Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There is barely any scientific explanation, about the how’s and why’s of the flowers. Back in old times it was merely speculated that it was a gift from god. Myths and legends were created by all civilizations with the purpose of trying to explain their origin and their meaning.

Through the years as people slowly started to agree on certain things, they started to put names to flowers and started to give them a language. Perhaps the act itself of giving them such a thing was what drove them to become more notorious.

Records say that when the occurrence of the flowers was less noticeable, people tended to have one or two flowers bloom, and that's not even talking about the emotional ones. Nowadays, it’s normal for a person to have flowers ranging from five to ten. More feelings, more meaning, more flowers.

Of every kind.

With flower language becoming a thing, it appears that the flowers themselves adapted to and reflected the emotions that were given to them. Studies were made to compare emotional response to flower use and lo and behold, they all matched.

What everyone knows about the flowers is this:

1- The tattoos on your skin represent long standing emotions. Either yours or of someone you love. When it comes to others, your body will show their feelings on your skin. This is usually reserved for families, partners or long standing friends. Those feelings don't disappear unless the person stops feeling them, the flower tattoos are never erased but rather, they change to adapt. Relationships grow, change and can wither too. It all reflects on your skin. 

Notes: There has been a study that the common amount of flowers to reflect someone’s emotions towards you is three, this is called the core emotions. There has been recorded only five cases in modern times of a person having six emotional cores, the general consensus is that the more flowers you have the more complex the emotions and relationship you have with the other person is. It is speculated that as time goes on, perhaps the amount of emotional cores will grow, since it has been proven that in years past people used to have one. 

2- Flowers, actual ones, will bloom in your person, to showcase current emotions. Generally speaking, they pop up in your hair. Occasionally and really depending on the emotion they can grow around your body. Plucking them does not hurt and it doesn't harm your skin one bit. In fact it merely tickles at best. Petals and leaves are also other emotional responses. Children, to the eternal exhaustion of their parents who have to clean them up, tend to produce petals unless their emotions are very strong. 

3- Mental illness or any emotional regulation problem that a human can have, will reflect on the flowers. Depression, denial of feeling, any feeling really, numbness and whatnot, will cause what many have determined as Hanahaki. The illness is not deadly, not unless you are very stubborn. Sharing your feelings, going to therapy, doing anything that allows you to express yourself will make you cough up the roots and keep going with your life. Surgeries can be done for sure, but they are temporary fixes because the root, heh, of the issues lies on the person's mind. The plants will grow again inside them the longer they try to keep their feelings hidden.

Notes: Things like toxic or abusive relationships will reflect on your skin as thorns and vines, either hurting or crushing you. 

There are many more peculiarities that can be attributed to the flowers, no person is the same, and feelings are on a general basis complicated things. To this day there is research about strange responses to the flowers, so they can be catalogued and studied later.

Society has grown with it, and a special kind of language has been added to everyday lives, flower meaning and arrangements have deep connotations. Children are taught since infancy about how to easily identify and understand people’s feelings with the flowers. Therapy based on your tattoos or your flowers, songs about love and how it blooms, medicine, media- everything can be tied to it, because it's a big part of everyday life.

So much so, that even fears are shaped by it.

At his time, Robert Smirke did not take fully into account how society would  grow with the flowers being part of everyday life and how they would with time become a common thing for everyone to see and share. He created his list of fears based on his own ideas without taking much into account the fear of the people around him and how it could slowly mutate into the creatures he was studying.

A mistake really.

A pity.

Jonah, Simon and Maxwell would live to see it happen, would see how their patrons would slowly morph and adapt to humanity’s whims. 

There aren't many studies about the flowers and fear, in fact you could say that the only places where there is a steady influx of information regarding it, were the paranormal research institutes in America, China and England.

Jonah Magnus himself took a shine to seeing the way something so usually benign and celebrated could likewise become a curse or a punishment.

But, we are getting ahead of ourselves a bit, so, let's sit down and let us begin our story.

Jonah was a curious and precocious child, at the time he loved to ask his mother about every last single thing that crossed his mind. She was more than happy to answer to the best of her abilities as they sat together on the piano or as she took care of her garden. Jonah enjoyed spending time with her the most and it was due to that closeness that he found the flowers.

He would have petals on his hair, his mother would pluck them up and tease him with them, calling them little gifts. He thought he was special because he could make them grow, but she gently explained that everyone had flowers growing on them.

“If your feelings are very strong they won't be able to stop and you have a big heart firebug” Jonah at age seven, did not believe her, and asked for proof. She laughed softly and booped his nose.

His memory of this particular day is awfully clear, even if most of his younger years were blurry with time and age. His mother beamed at him and from her rust-colored hair, a crown of flowers seemingly grew around her. Later he would learn the meaning of each flower that sat upon his mother's head.

Lilies for affection to loved ones, pink carnations for a mother's love, and tulips for beautiful eyes. Jonah was fascinated by them and he tried to grab one, she leaned down and let him pick the carnation between his fingers.

Edith, his mother, would pick up the tulip and put it behind his ear. 

“We all grow flowers, they represent our feelings, and when they are strong enough and when we love someone and they love us back, we can have them on our skin. Look” She pulls back her gloves and in her wrist there were two flowers. In the opposite one however there was a lone tiny one compared to the others. 

“What are those mama?” She lets him touch them.

“Those are from your father to me, gifts, but this one, this cute little one is from you” He gasps and touches the yellow flower with reverence. 

“Me?”

“Yes you. A yellow Daisy. Do you want to know what it means?” He nodded vehemently at the time. Her voice carried a note of love and pride that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

“It means joy and happiness. It means that I make you happy” Jonah laughed and said that of course she made him happy. 

“You are the best mama” With that he hugged her, pressing his face to her bosom, feeling something softly land on his hair. Looking up he saw tiny purple petals sliding from her hair towards him.

“Oh dear and you are the best daughter a mother could ask for” That was way before he would come to realise that he didn't feel comfortable in his own skin or by being called daughter in specific.

Jonah would find days later his own tattoo, excitedly he showed it to his parents. It was yellow and he thought proudly that it matched the daisy he gave his mother, it was right below his heart, on his ribcage. His mother, when he asked him, told him that it was Cinquefoil, it meant beloved daughter.

“Because that's what you are” His father was less overly happy, but he seemed pleased about his mother and his own joy. 

Jonah gained a second Cinquefoil as the years went by. With time he would learn to abhor it. But that's besides the point.

At age twelve he had an accident. He was playing with his mother and she told him to wait so she could get something from inside. He had been stubborn and didn't listen so he went and stepped on the supposedly frozen lake near their home. He had seen other kids before skate on it, the ice was thick-! Or so he thought. In reality it wasn't cold enough and his weight made it crack. The last thing he saw before he went under was his mother looking terrified.

He fell into the water and the cold completely took his breath away, he couldn't swim upwards and in his panic he swallowed water as he clumsily tried to move his stiff limbs. A hand pulled him out and his mother half wet curled up around him pulling him out and crying out for his father to come now.

Jonah spent the entire winter feverish and on the brink of death due to a horrible pneumonia. He was already fragile of health, but this was a blow and his mother spent every waking moment next to him, keeping him company and crying when she thought he was asleep. He didn't want to die. He really didn't want to die-!

Then one day he got better, slowly, he started to get stronger and his mother looked so relieved and happy Jonah did not question why she covered her tattoo afterwards, did not question why she and his father seemed to have drawn a line between them. All he knew was that he was alright and that his mother nursed him back to health with the utmost care in the world. All he knew was that he was loved and…that he didn't want to ever go through something like that. Jonah didn't want to die.

He was told that the flowers are to be kept covered, that it's not proper to showcase every emotion he feels. His mother tells him that with time and as he grew into a proper lady he would learn to control them too. He recalls at age ten hearing her tell him that late at night as she set him up for sleep. That you can control your emotions, or if you are very good, showcase the ones you want others to see.

“It’s like a game, we have to keep ourselves in check, less suitors get rowdy or get the wrong idea. A flutter here, a petal there, it can make the sea of difference when you are dealing with others my dear firebug” From all the things she taught him, this, the piano and the flower meaning sessions were what he used the most as he grew into himself.

And it turns out that she was right about it. It was a matter of visualizing, a matter of carefully picking and showing the right emotion at the right time. Many would say he was a two faced liar, but he thinks of it as a strategic way of surviving.

As years go on, people would start to care less about hiding their feelings, showcasing them to the world without a care. Not him, not really, his mother’s words were etched on his mind, her lessons.

Her tattoo.

His father remained on his skin, till the day the old man died. It felt like a slight against his person, like a constant reminder of a past that he wanted to forget, a mockery. The one that belonged to his mother however….it morphed a few days after he left home with a new name and clothes. From a Cinquefoil, it shed its petals, slowly changing them into a pink Carnation.

A mother's love, I'll never forget you.

Right next to it, almost covering the one from his father as if trying to shield him from its view, an orange Tulip bloomed.

Understanding, Appreciation, Truest love.

Jonah had mixed feelings about it, after all she didn't defend him from his father, but…she didn't judge him or call him anything else than Jonah, the last time he spoke to her. He thought with time, and especially after her death that the tattoo would fade. 

It did not, and as years went on, as he changed bodies to survive, the orange Tulip and the Carnation remained etched on his ribs, closely nestled around his heart. It would be way down the line that he would learn about her not being quite as gone as he thought.

Jonah found the language of flowers fascinating, found the intricacies of it amusing. He loved seeing the way people would try to hide their reactions, their flowers. Couples who had to turn around to dispose of the Roses that fell from their hair as their lovers brushed their hands over their arms. People, who would be upset about their lack of markings, who hid away not because of society demanding it, but because they actually lacked the proof of love on their skin.

How much did they lament it.

Unreciprocated love was one of his favourite ones to study, people who would swallow down their feelings, who would cough petals and choke on them and if they were to take it further, who would die by having their feelings crawl out of their mouth, their chest with vengeance to let the whole world to see.

Mordechai Lukas did not love, at least that's what Jonah thought for a long while, it wasn't till he started to pay attention, till beholding gave him pointers that he noticed the dark handkerchief in his pocket, dark enough to hide blood and petals. 

Jonah would pick on the way Mordechai had to swallow down hard on days Barnabas was around. The way his eyes picked his friend apart whose feelings crowned his hair almost daily. Jonah had tattoos from Barnabas, purple lilacs and balsam.

First love and ardent love. Jonah thought it was a bit on the nose, albeit he found it comforting, sweet even. Jonah had a flower for each one of his close friends. Barnabas was the special case, with two, just like his mother.

He digresses. Mordechai never grew flowers in his hair, when naked, he had no flower adorning his skin, either from his own emotions or that of someone else. He was a complete blank canvas of a man and he revelled on it.

He revelled in his own lack of ties and feelings. Until, one day-

Jonah saw it by accident, he reckons even Mordechai didn't realize it, seeing as it was on his back, hiding away from him. 

That was also an interesting study, the location. Why did some flowers appear in certain parts of your body? 

This particular trail, and oh it was definitely a trail, came from his tailbone all across this spine, growing spectacularly into the back of his ribs, as if it expanded. Hydrangea, Coriander and a creeping Willow.

Frigidity, heartlessness; heartfelt gratitude for being understood, lust and love forsaken

Oh Barnabas, you poor man.

Death is a concept that has frightened Jonah since the moment he fell into a frozen lake at age 12 and spent the next few months fighting for his life due to the illness he got afterwards. Jonah feared death, was terrified of it.

He also thought morbidly enough that there was something beautiful about other people's bodies after death.

The flowers didn't stop existing when you died, no, they bloomed after death. You had a few days before the body simply became a garden, some people would say it was only fair to let a body return to nature. Others say that it was important to give a burial, a place to mourn. The flesh might be gone but the bones remained. 

Mummification was an act in which the old egyptians took the time to also desiccate the flowers that came out of the body, along with their organs. Everyone gets buried with their plants surrounding them in a last embrace before being consumed by the green. At least he remembers Barnabas telling him all about it after his trip to Egypt, Jonah had listened with rapt attention, finding the whole thing quite interesting to his morbid tastes.

Jonah was curious, and he was hungry for more, and a sacrifice, even of his childhood friend, of his first love, was what he needed to give the last step into becoming. Into accepting avatarhood.

Barnabas Bennet wasn't just a sacrifice, he was his stepping stone, he was the fire that kindled the path that he would go through. Him and…

Mordechai sat in front of him, they were in Moorland since Jonah had to go retrieve what was rightfully his. They would do an exchange. Information for the return of an old friend.

“I have found a widow, she would be a perfect wife and she would not care of the children’s fate, she mourns eternally for her lost love. A duty and money are merely a pleasant plus” Mordechai’s figure was sturdy, was steady.

He smelled like jasmine. Mordechai had the stench of unconditional love and wealth clinging to his clothes. Jonah’s tattoos faded, only leaving imprints behind, he reckons they won't go away for a long time.

“Then, here it is that you wanted, it picked him clean, all except…” Jonah opened the offered bag, gently picking up the skull of what used to be Barnabas Bennet. His hands still, Jonah was mesmerised by the sight in front of him, something he had in fact never seen before in his life.

In the skull itself there were markings carved into it. A crown of Spines and Forget me nots engraved into the bone. Feelings that ran deeper than the skin that had held them remained on the bone still. Yet there was one more surprise. Anemone flowers growing from his eye sockets. Indigo petals started to drip down to his lap like tears. Jonah gently placed the skull down next to him. The rib cage had vines and thorns growing on it, but it was also filled with black Roses and Gardenias.

Hatred and secret love. All nestled right over where his heart should have been. Jonah pauses. He knows which part belongs to each one of them. Jonah keeps all the bones except for the ribcage. That, he tells Mordechai, was not his to keep.

“After all, there was no secret love for me”

The face of utter disdain he got could have made a lesser man quiver. All it did was make Jonah smile tiredly. That night as he stays in Mordechai’s place, they sleep together, it is not kind, it is not nice and the handprints and bites they give each other could be considered vicious. The tattoos on Mordechai’s back were merely lines now, slowly fading, just like Jonah’s, the man who made them appear was long gone now.

They both loved him but Barnabas Bennet was a means to an end and that nothing could have stopped his end at their hands. Mordechai’s loneliness will be endless, purging Barnabas was his only way to finally succumb to the forsaken just as it was the stepping stone for Jonah to become a servant of the eye.

The two of them used the same sacrifice to elevate themselves.

Their fondness for the man was not enough to stop what was always going to happen.

Jonah would put Barnabas’ bones back in the institute and when the mood struck he would hold the skull and see the petals fall from its eyes. They never withered, and they always grew back.

“Apologies my dear friend, let it be known, if it brings you any consolation, that you were loved, even to the bitter end. Even if I never came to heed your call” Jonah picks up a petal and toys with it in his hand. It was quite beautiful.

“Rest Barnabas”

After this, Jonah found the people who studied what happened to bodies after death far, far more appealing.

Jonathan Fanshware was a clever man, he was also, of course, overly curious himself. His friend, like Jonah, shared a very specific secret, one that allowed him to seek the good doctor out for any medical need he had without fear of discovery. It helped that Jonah knew also of some of his more…illegal activities, mostly because he liked to go and see.

“You could pick up the shovel and help Jonah” Smiling like the cat that got the canary he said he won't.

“I like to see you work and you are far more used to this sort of thing than I am” He hears him mumble something about working in an office and being delicate.“Not so delicate that I can't be manhandled Jonathan” His friend throws him a nasty look from over his shoulder. 

“No of course not, you love that part, because you aren't doing the work. Mordechai and Albrecht have more than enough pleasure in marking you like a peach” Jonah flushes and usually he has better wits about himself, but today as it was just them, he had no trouble letting red poppies pop from his hair. “I believe even dear Carla puts in more effort than you-” The sound of a shovel hitting something stops them.

“I believe you are a very good digger when you are mad” His friend scowls. Buttercups pop in Jonathan’s hair and neck, Jonah gets closer and plucks one from him, rolling it around his fingers. 

“How dare you think I'm childish” Jonah says with a completely deadpan tone. Jonathan instead picks up the ones in his hair and says it also means ingratitude.

“In case you forget”

Smirking, he says he is very grateful. “After all it's not everyday we get to do some light grave robbing” Jonathan stiffens and says they aren't stealing.

“I get to see plenty of dead bodies in all stages of the bloom, but those who are already long gone…” Jonah knows. Barnabas’ bones half in his office and half on Mooreland are a very large part on why he is doing this. Curiosity, the need to know if it was just his friend, or if perhaps more people are like this, if they can feel something so much it lasts even after death. The temptation to cross the sea and go to France to check the catacombs is big, the collection of bones there would perhaps shed some light and help satiate his need to know.

However, this is also just as interesting. 

Jonah has gone to see live dissections performed by the good doctor, he has seen bodies being opened and from their insides have nature pour out of them. In extreme cases, the body becomes its own ecosystem after death, to the point it can consume most of the flesh leaving nothing behind but the bones in months if not preserved correctly.

Some people consider the act of incineration a rather cruel mockery of the green. Jonah thinks…well he thinks it’s a waste to not see what can happen.

Jonathan digs for a bit longer, and loath as he is to participate he wants this to end quicker, so he picks up the shovel and does in fact help with the task. Soon they can see the casket, and soon they can open it up to see what became of it.

When they open it, the smell of flowers and rot greet them. Fungus and moss were growing near the man. Jonathan has to carefully clean up the moss to see the bone underneath. Around his throat the man had vines growing.

Jonah comes closer and uses the torch to illuminate. At first they can't quite see it, but the more Jonathan tries to clean, the more he can see slight indentations on the bone. His friend frowns but slowly traces them, trying to make sense of them.

“It has the shape of a plant but I can't tell which one it is” Jonah tells him to hold the light and let him instead. He was always better at picking different types of plants.

Between his hands and scratching over the moss to clean up a bit more he finally deduces that there is a series of vines and primrose etched on his skin.

“Hm, perhaps he lost someone and that never quite left him. Primrose is a sign of…not letting go” Jonah scoffs.

“I can't live without you more like it. Does it say in the gravestone how he died?” Jonathan checks as Jonah twists the body around trying to look for more. The plants growing on him should be a sign, that Barnabas wasn't that special, but-

But, but, but- His friend seemed to actively cry with his petals. As if he had some leftover sentience. This man however, had nothing of that. Could it be…that perhaps the reason why the flowers kept reacting the way they did was because of the effect of forsaken on his friend's death?

If that is the case, how else can the entities use the flowers? How can they weaponize them, how-

“Jonah I think I got all I wanted, let's put this all back” He nods absentmindedly this opens up many questions and very little answers. More thought will have to be put into it.

Years later he will receive a letter from Jonathan blaming him for Albrech passing. In it, he mentioned something rather peculiar, more unexpected than that of the fate of his old friend, and the eyes growing inside him.

Jonathan takes notice of how the entire state, the garden, every last piece of fertile land had violets growing in it. How when he asked the housekeeper she merely said something about not being able to stop growing.

Albrech himself, when he had to open him and see the horrible truth, was filled to the brim with violets and all of them had awful growths, ones that when his friend tried to open one…seemingly produced a half made eye.

Jonah smiles, there is a relation isn't it? Hm… how would the flowers adapt as the years go on? As people’s fears and perceptions change, he wonders? In what other ways can they make something considered a gift, into a curse.

Life goes on.

The institute receives more statements, Mordechai keeps his side of the bargain and pays for it, along with other kind souls who are into the supernatural. Jonah thrives, slowly studying and learning more and more about beholding, about the rituals, designing his own behind Robert’s back. Jonathan’s refusal to participate was a pity, but one he got over very quickly. Years went by, Jonah started to lose tattoos, the more people who died, the more people who left and hated him, the less marks there were on his skin. Barnabas own were practically faded. Jonathan’s hate was etched brightly on his back, Robert's fear and confusion too. Mordechai-

Mordechai let him know he was forsaken, cruel man that he was.

Jonah was going to do it, was going to finish his ritual and put beholding in charge, he would not have to worry about any other fear completing its own, wouldn't have to worry about his life.

It was going to be-

It failed. It failed and he can't tell why, if there weren't enough inmates, if there was something wrong with his calculations, he cannot tell what happened. All he knows is that his eyes burn, that there is pain, rumbling and the feeling of vines pulling at his arms, as his vision gets covered with so many flowers and petals he thinks for a brief moment he has gone blind.

He hasn't.

Knowledge, or better yet, voices and thoughts all latch onto his mind, every prisoner’s dying thought being broadcasted into the panopticon into him. The flowers were everywhere, choking him, killing him, his head was splitting in two, Jonah knew far too much, heard too much, the visions of pain, the feelings of it all cracked across his mind.

It felt as if he was glass and he was slowly splintering into different pieces of himself, as if his thoughts were all disjointed. His ears were ringing.

Jonah swears he could hear yelling, but then again everyone was dying, all their thoughts were being pushed into his head and maybe-

Ah yes, the taste of copper on his mouth, does tell him that perhaps he might be screaming too. It feels like it lasts forever, like the pain will never stop and that he will lose his mind as everything rushes inside him, but alas, eventually it starts to dwindle, the ocean that flooded his brain starts to slowly calm down, till it trickles down to something more manageable.

Jonah was stiff as a board, every last muscle of his body was coiled, the Panopticon was darker than he remembers. His mouth tasted like blood and as his ears stopped ringing he realizes the utter silence. The deadly quiet.

On his lap, at his feet, on his neck, hair, and even on his face, he could feel flowers cling to him. He had to push them all away to properly see, even if his vision was likewise blurry still. Vines had grown around his wrists, tying him to the chair in the panopticon, same with his ankles. Jonah had to presume the only reason why he didn't convulse into the floor and he remained in place was because they were holding him.

Shakily he gets up, looks for a mirror.

He saw a crown of flowers and branches on his hair, his cheeks had dry blood on them, from his eyes. He started to slowly and methodically remove the flowers from him, plucking them out one by one, when he touched the crown he slowly removed it and stared at it.

White Baneberries, Marigolds, Violets, Hyssops and purple Tulips. 

Eyes, pain, watchfulness, cleanliness and sacrifice…. and finally-

Nobility/Royalty… Rebirth

Yes, Jonah thought, he certainly felt like he was born anew. He was certainly bloody enough for it. A crown of his own making. He shakily sets it down on the panopticon chair. Finally he sees that there was something under his clothes in his upper left arm, taking off his coat and shirt, he sees a Marigold was attached to the arm, annoyed by it, he pulls. Oh that was a mistake, it also made him notice that there were twigs also coming out around the plant.

Unlike every other single time he has taken off a new growth, the actual pull hurt him. Jonah pauses and fears, it's not supposed to hurt. The act of removing the flowers was a simple and easy fact, why can’t he-

He pulls and tugs and the pain is searing, it feels like he is trying to rip something from inside him. With morbidity he realises that the flower and the twigs were slowly coming loose, but that it had…black roots coming out of his skin. Jonah panics.

That's not normal, that has never happened before he has never heard of anything like- In his haste he pulls till there are tears in his eyes, and finally, with the last bout of energy he had before bumping into the wall in utter exhaustion he pulls the blasted thing out of him.

The marigold withers instantly and when Jonah looks, right where it was, a tattoo remains. Etched on his skin forever to be seen. A Marigold and an Aspen tree.

Pain and fear.

Jonah slides onto the ground, holding his arm and laughing out of pure desperation. What now?

It takes time to move the institute to London, to cover up the tunnels. It takes enough time that he gets an idea about how to survive, his body was getting older and Jonah needed to do something quick.

It was no hard loss to slowly turn dear William into the perfect replacement. And when time came and he knocked him out, dragging him to the panopticon, Jonah knew what had to be done. The eye itself dropped him the knowledge to perform the surgery, Jonah studied enough medicine from Jonathan to know too.

One eye in, one eye out.

The pain was excruciating, Jonah couldn't stop the pain, not if he wanted to remain awake to do this. He didn't want to die, god he did not, this had to work, it had to!

Blood, blood, seeps, blood oozes, blood splatters from his face- over to-

To-!

Jonah blinks, disorientated, pained and with the horrible feeling of his head being split in tow. Something heavy lays on top of him. A body, whose body? Oh.

His body.

He did it, he actually pulled it off he- should not have hit him so hard, drugs, next time he is drugging them. For sure.

Afterwards it’s a matter of putting his body in the chair, of…setting the crown on his head. It’s been a few years but it has not withered one bit in all that time. Jonah was a new man and he has a mission to continue.

From here on out, it was quite similar lifestyle wise, the tattoos from his mother, Jonathan, Mordechai along with the ones born on the day of his crowning all transfer immediately into his body. That he thinks, is a concerning thing, his old body loses them thankfully and because of the location it’s easy to hide them from view, making it so he cannot be identified.

It would be too strange and ask for questions as to why he has the exact same tattoos as Jonah did. 

His funeral is held with an empty coffin, Mordechai did not come, Jonathan came but simply to spit on his grave and call it a day. Jonah cannot even be offended by it, but a part of him, a very…human part of him, mourns and is soured by the loss of one of his last friends.

Jonathan’s tattoo on his skin was a black rose now, hatred. On days where things were slow Jonah liked to take off his gloves and trace his fingers over it. It was located on his right hand. He wonders about it so he spies on Jonathan, seeing him shiver in his office and absent mindedly scratch the matching tattoo on his hand.

A Violet. Fitting.

The Panopticon started to slowly change, it was so subtle that even he didn’t notice till one day during world war 2 as he stayed inside worried about the bombings destroying the place, he realized that vegetation have started to take over the place.

The prison cells had moss and vines growing out of them, plants would start to slowly appear in the watchtower too. They weren't big per se, just there. Still it was incredibly strange, mostly because there was no way for any of them to grow. The place lived in darkness and there weren't any sources of water.

There was also the fact that the coloration of the plants was…wrong. Not all of them mind you, but half were reddish, even when he knew that was not normal. The vines that grew and hung from the prison cells were a deep dark red, they almost felt alive somewhat. Touching one made him feel strange so he elected to not get close to it anymore. As long as it did not represent any trouble then the plants could stay, besides it’s not even like he could get rid of all of them in any quick manner.

Still as time went on he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of dread involving the place. His body remained untouched and that is what mattered the most. Still, he wondered about it whenever he had time or he had to go down to perform a bit of eye surgery. 

With time, as he kept jumping from body to body, Jonah lost more tattoos and his emotions were harder and harder to read, he barely made any flowers bloom on his person. He was cold and calculating and he only ever used his charm to get more funding, to manipulate and get people to do what he wanted.

It was a useful skill and a lesson well learned.

Richard would trace his ribcage, seeing the still very lively flowers his mother left him, he would think that yes, he was very thankful for her lessons, but perhaps this was the sentiment in him. He was glad to know that his mother’s love, like Barnabas, persisted through death and that she had seemingly loved him so much it permeated his skin forever.

She had loved him endlessly and he could still see it to this day. Her’s and the ones born on the day of the ritual were the only marks he had left. People around him were puzzle pieces, or pawns, they were not equals, let alone worth his time to feel anything stronger than amusement. Richard had no reason to let them be etched into his body, their feelings were after all fleeting and he was going to be eternal.

He didn't know, albeit it would lead to a life of symbiosis for the next fifty years or so, that Gertrude Robinson would be the first person to make enough of an impression on his person to mark him for the first time in a century and a half.

For better or for worse of course, because the nature of their relationship was anything but caring, a transaction at best.

Gertrude to her credit for the first years in the institute wasn't the behemoth of a person she would grow to be, she was relatively calm and collected and did her job to the best of her abilities, albeit that also implied she took time to read statements and investigate from her own account. Which Richard did find compelling.

A natural kind of curiosity and morbidity.

When his archivist finally dies due to a little encounter with the stranger the only person he thought would fit in the role was no other than her. Despite her age, Fiona’s little faint spells did not serve him well to stop rituals. Gertrude's no nonsense and pragmatic way of doing things however was far more appealing so despite Fiona Law working for so long she did not get the promotion.

He would have thought she would quit, now that Angus was gone she was actually free to leave, no contract to bind her. But it would be a disservice to her to even consider that, because despite the terror she feels, Fiona was nothing short but curious and so, she pledged herself to Gertrude as her assistant.

Good.

The change from  Richard to James was swift, no one batted an eye at it. Well, almost… no one.

Gertrude had a puzzled expression when he asked to talk to her, so as to “get to know the archivist” and whatnot. Like him, no flower popped and showed her true feelings during their talk. He has to commend her for having such a tight grip on herself, when most people would start sprouting them out of nerves.

“Well, if that would be all….James” Her eyes were sharp and it gave him a chill down his spine, but more than anything-

It made him smirk.

“That would be all Miss. Robinson, I shall send you new archival assistants to help you and Miss. Law down there, from what I understand Angus left the place in quite a state” She nodded silently and with a light frown. With all that being said, soon she was gone and James could feel a sense of relief.

Funnily enough in the week to come a new tattoo would appear on his forearm, an Oleander. 

Caution.

Hm, she is sharper than he gave her credit for, or perhaps she merely doesn't trust him as the new head, it’s hard to tell. For now he will simply keep the mark covered, it was in an inconvenient place after all.

The archives are a fairly interesting soap opera to tune in when he feels like it. There is Eric who has Ivy leaves perpetually hanging from his hair. James considers his marriage to Mary Keay, trying and failing to understand this man’s head to produce such a plant in response to his wife. Fiona was always up to investigating but also far too prone to dropping unconscious with flowers covering as to trying to shield her. 

Then there is Emma, Gertrude’s confidant, it takes him a while to catch what he had in the archives the little spider playing pretend. He could say something to Gertrude but that is not interesting. He wants to see her figure this one out herself, wants to see if she can avoid the fate that little Emma seems to keep toeing. Like Gertrude and James her feelings barely show and with some surprise he reckons that she has also learned to show off the right emotion at the right time like him. Producing flowers only in the appropriate moments.

Nowadays, people who do that are considered untrustworthy and manipulators, while a few decades ago, a century even, it was more than alright to learn how to manipulate your feelings. People get so tetchy nowadays for the smallest of things honestly.

So what if you hide your true intentions? So what if you learn to showcase the feelings others want to see? It’s strategic, famous people certainly like to use it, to hide from the camera’s and keep just a modicum of privacy.

The eye however is not that kind. He learned through the years that Beholding has an interesting effect on people, that the fear of being perceived makes it so people become paranoid about everyone noticing their feelings, not only that no, but it can also cause an over abundance of them to purposely make someone feel exposed.

A statement giver told them once that he had a complete breakdown when he realized he couldn't make the flowers go away, that every time he tried they would reappear and that everyone seemingly kept staring at him and mumbling while laughing as his feelings kept being displayed for the world to see.

He became unable to hide and even in the interview the flowers on his body could not be removed, they would instantly grow back again. He was a walking and talking display, calling out to everyone’s eyes as the plants themselves seemed to have some supernatural influence.

He finds fascinating how a symbol of emotional clarity could be weaponized and used to terrorize. Not even counting the use of the rest of the fears found for it as well.

Truly James loved taking a statement or two to read home and see of a new way in which it all fell apart for someone.

Emma Harvey was a cunning woman, she was also very curious and used her manipulations to get Fiona into every situation imaginable to see how she would survive next. It was because of this particular experiment that the idea, or at the very least the beginning of it, started to take form.

The idea of choosing a person to be marked by the fears, all of them. At the time that was merely speculation on his part. A fledgling idea but one that nonetheless stuck by him in the years to come the more dear Emma experimented on her fellow assistants. Fiona died and she was soon replaced by Micheal, far too young to be working there in all honesty but he had contact with a creature and he was curious.

Pity, that Emma used her silk to bind him and make him unable to see the truth of what was going on. Micheal's emotions were easy to display and he showcased them to the world in a nervous flutter of petals and flowers, one that both Emma and Gertrude used to their advantage. Truly, James has never seen Gertrude use so many flowers to convince dear Micheal of what a sweet old lady she was, even if that was anything but.

Finally Eric was gone, and that one particularly stung, seeing the man figure out the only way to quit besides killing Gertrude herself. Sometimes he idly wondered if Eric found out about that clause if he would have killed her instead. Maybe told Mary to get her help and her cursed books to get rid of the body. Whatever it is, Eric was gone and soon he went missing as well.

James was very sure his wife had killed him, and it did not matter how much love he carried on his person, how the Ivy clung to him. It still could not hide away the marks of the awful thorny tattoos that Mary left on his arms, because her love, after all, was nothing but painful and oppressing.

This of course left the final three.

The funding party was a necessity, he could not subsist only on the Lukas and the Fairchild’s money, or well, he could but that would draw suspicions and also would give them more opinions on how to keep the place and he was in no mood to deal with them and their demands.

Nathaniel called informing him that his nephew would be coming, he was going to be the new link between the Lukas and the institute.

“Don't eat him James, he is promising” He says the word as if it was both a reverence and poison. Hm, his powers must be good but there has to be something wrong with him if Nathaniel speaks of him in such a way.

Interesting.

“I can't promise anything, not if he makes it easy” The call goes dead and he grins at the receiver before hanging up as well. 

James dresses up sharply, black dress shirt along with a forest green ensemble of pants, vest and jacket. As the night moves along and he talks to people, trying to subtly get them to add a bit more funding, he ends up losing the jacket and rolling up his sleeves a bit. He is mindful of course not to show Gertrude’s tattoo, which has become a bit of an inconvenience.

Having a mark of caution is not exactly a good look, no matter the reason. 

As it is, he eventually sees through the crowd and in a rather…empty corner, Simon Fairchild talking to a man. He was very tall, albeit compared to Simon most people are. He wore a navy suit and was giving James his back as he seemingly was hearing Fairchild talk.

Through the party he kept looking for the mysterious Lukas that was supposed to replace Nathaniel, perhaps that was him? Simon would certainly know, and there is a certain air around the man…

After excusing himself to the couple he was talking to, James turns and goes straight towards them.

Simon sees him first and his grin becomes wild. Hm, interesting.

When he finally arrives, he says hello to Simon who replies back in a cheerful tone. The man turns towards him and James is stuck for a moment with surprise and a sense of déjà-vu so bad he can't help but let a few Zinnias appear in his hair.

The man looked remarkably like Mordechai in his youth, but while his friend was all sharp angles and seemed to give a cutting aura, this man was…soft looking.

Everything in him screamed he was a Lukas, but it also had this gentle shape that made him look amicable, even when most Lukas were not.

James quickly eats him up with his eyes, black hair, light blue eyes typical of the family, freckles…and just a hint of a five o’clock beard. He was handsome.

“Ah, you must be the one Nathaniel talked about, I'm sorry but he didn't offer me a name. What should I call you?” The man tilted his head a bit to the side, looking quite bird-like in its manner.

“Hm I would rather you didn't call me anything, but I was told if I didn't do this, I would not step foot on my ship again. So…Peter Lukas at your service, you must be James Wright, uncle was quite lacking in his description of you I believe” It floors him for a moment, but not enough to lose control of his emotions again.

“How so? What did Nathaniel have to say about me?” Peter's smile is cheerful, it…is puzzling. Most Lukas are rather dull, except some cases in which they lean into charming, and that James knows, can be used as a weapon as well.

“He made me think of some old boring bureaucrat, but turns out you are quite eye-catching” James blinks and for the second time that day two flowers pop in his hair as he chuckles at an inadvertent joke. Peonies. Simon makes a noise and James quickly plucks them out and crushes them in his hand. It seems Peter also wasn't really thinking of his words, because a bunch of red Daisies started to grow on his hair to the other’s consternation. James was quick to calm down, but for whatever reason he couldn't control the appearance of another peony on his neck at the sight of the daisies.

He thought he was handsome? Most people did, Jonah selected his bodies accordingly but it was just so surprising for a Lukas to be so…accidentally charming that it baffled him. It also didn't help his first opinion of him looking like Mordechai which made something inside him weaken. For all that they resented each other…Jonah had to a degree loved the man. Bitterness at knowing that was never going to be reciprocated should not have been there, but oh well.

“Well…I'm glad to defy your expectations and those of your uncle, Mr. Lukas” Peter makes a face and then says he would rather have him call him Peter. Another little surprise huh? 

“Otherwise it makes me think of dear old Nathaniel” And the mocking tone is not lost on him and yes, he thinks he likes this man quite a lot. James wants to figure him out, crack him open and then drop the contents at Nathaniel’s feet.

“He is quite the special case isn't he? Now, now, I should take my leave. Simon as usual, drinks and cards afterwards” He steps back a bit turning to leave, he counts to five before turning back towards Peter. “Oh, Peter , if you want to join us you are more than welcome, we may even gamble a bit. Anyways it was a pleasure to make acquaintance with you, I hope we have a very good work relationship from now on” James drops his tone a bit and it is oh so very fascinating to see him swallow hard and turn those pale cheeks pink. 

He expected him to leave with the lonely, to run off into the safe embrace of forsaken, but Peter, oh Peter…to James' surprise and utter delight, he came with Simon after the party to drink and play. If he purposely let his knees touch and if he leaned against him a bit after taking a drink then it was just anyone’s imagination.

Simon gave James exasperated but amused looks, but then again he gave them to Peter as well. He wanted to scoff at him, it was just fun, James was going to play with him for a while, maybe seduce him and get more money and then he would leave him. He is sure the other will appreciate the game, and the solitude of a broken heart. James did say to Nathaniel he didn't promise anything. He might actually want to eat this one out, in many, many ways.

As it is, this day was the beginning of a lot of headaches and…of a relationship that defied all his expectations.