Jade Fern Grove she said, "you ain't no son of mine for what you've done"

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he's thinking about gregory. he hasn't seen absynthe in some time, but that doesn't matter; he needs to find gregory, he needs to finish what they'd started. the male is nowhere to be found. there's a rising agitation in his chest, bubbling until he thinks his skin will burst and spill his rancid guts across the forest floor. he wishes it would.
the flowers appear like a blessing, but there's no time to contemplate it. he can't get the seeds down his throat fast enough, launching into a fit of coughing and choking in the process— dry, his mouth is dry. he's forced to turn his head to glance around the area, suddenly aware of how close everything is to him; the trees, the plants, there's leaves touching him and he can't stand it— but he needs water.
he sees the creek a distance off and doesn't hesitate to snatch a poppy to take with him on the short trip, inexplicably possessive of the plentiful herb. when he gets there, he drops the flower carelessly and dips his head to drink, shivering in anticipation of the high to come.