No idea what to call this (anyone can join) (FINISHED)

(My trees don't talk, but they murder people so…)

(Cool! That's a neat concept!)

(Thanks! They occasionally become sort of sentient, and when that happens, they're just featureless and smooth white figures)

(My trees don't talk, but they murder people so…)

(Cool! That's a neat concept!)

(Thanks! They occasionally become sort of sentient, and when that happens, they're just featureless and smooth white figures)

(Why?)

(So they're not bound by their roots and can be useful in combat beyond swiping at people with their branches)

Ivchenko trailed after Beckett, if only because he’d rather get away from mind reading trees. Though they’d probably have some trouble trying to search his mind, if anything.
He paused a few feet away from the other, and in silence, just stood still.

"Oh, uh, hey," Beckett said, trying to compose himself. "You want a cigarette?"
He offered the pack to Ivchenko, and added "If you can, light me one, would you? I probably shouldn't be moving my wrist as much as I have been…"

Ivchenko nodded. “Sure, I’ll do that.” He brought a gloved hand forwards and had taken it. He was able to light the cigarettes without much trouble - a task he had some practice in, and obviously got better at it within the years of cigarette-lighting. One was for Beckett, the other for himself. He handed both the pack and a cigarette back to him.

“Unusual place, isn’t it?” Ivchenko said, drawing the cigarette towards himself.

"Yeah," Beckett said. He took a drag and exhaled smoke. "I'm not a big fan of it, to be honest. And I usually like trees." He gave a soft laugh. "I'm just not a fan of them knowing too much about me, you know? Some things…some things just need to stay buried." His voice shook, and he took another drag to steady it. "I'd rather just ignore some things."
Well, a lot of things was more accurate. Three in particular-
No. Don't think about it.

“That’s true.” Almost too true. “There are many things that should stay buried. I suppose that would make the two of us, then. On things we try to ignore.”
Ivchenko’s facial features were shrouded in darkness, meaning whatever horror - or maybe normal person - that lied beyond it was invisible. But he smoked the cigarette anyways. In a way, it was relaxing to him. It brought up memories. Good ones.

“I’ve lived and I’ve seen things - unusual things. But I’ve always held a grudge against those able to read minds. Never liked it then, never will now.”

"Neither do I," Beckett replied, taking yet another drag. It calmed him, oddly enough. "I'm new to all of this magic shit, and I still don't really believe it. I mean, when I first heard the trees talk, I thought…"
He tried off, averting his eyes.
"Nothing. It's nothing. Forget I said anything," he said to Ivchenko.

"Fuck off!" Beckett shouted at the tree. He had never expected to yell at a tree in his life, and yet here he was. "My health is none of your goddamn business and the earth is fucked anyways!" He'd smoke as much as he wanted to, trees or no trees. Not that he particularly wanted to, but it was a habit he'd picked up over the summer that never quite went away.

"Yeah, no shit I'll regret it," Beckett snapped. "For being a mind reader, you sure are a fucking moron, you know that? If you're so goddamn smart, then you'd know that I know it'll fucking kill me someday, and you'd know that that's why I fucking do it!"
He gasped, freezing up after he admitted it. He hadn't said that-at least not out loud–before. His shock quickly turned to anger at the fact that he'd been coerced into saying so by a tree of all things.