007 }{ field mice, head lice, spiders in the kitchen
[ video post ]
[ As the video resolves from blurriness, Oz's red-haired head appears in the camera, and then moves away. It's clear from the scenery that he's somewhere at the base of that new mountain, and he seats himself on a piece of exposed rock, slipping off a pair of iPod earphones, tucking them into his pocket which muffles the quiet strains of 'Maps' by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs coming from them. To anyone who doesn't know him well, he might just appear to be his neutral self, but a more trained pair of eyes might catch the furrow between his eyebrows which means that he is not at all in a good mood today, as far as Ozes go. On the ground are various baggies full of bits of plant life, most probably ending in -wort, which Oz stares at blankly, glancing between the samples and a dusty-looking hardback that was a few seconds ago tucked under his arm. Shrugging, he turns the book upside-down, then right-side-up again, before packing it into the rucksack on his back. He stands again, gives a small shake of his head, and then also begins to pack the baggies into the rucksack. ]
Mugwort I know. Got some Crab-apple. Maybe Cockspur Grass. Lamb's Cress?
Giles, I think you might have sent the wrong guy for the job. No offense.
Everything looks like a tomato plant to me.
[ooc: voice, text or ~action! Oz is spending his day doing a little solo hiking in prep for going up again with Willow and others. Solo hiking far, far away from other people. ]