Squiggleweed Scrub

Today I made closer observations of the Squiggleweed, a wiry, abrasive shrublet found exclusively near loci of Myst influence. While unassuming at first glance—its bark pale grey-green and tendrils twisted like knotted rope—it quickly reveals an uncanny trait: autonomous movement.

It squiggles.

And squirms.

And curls unnaturally around rocks, trees, and in one disquieting case, the casing of my lamp.

But unbelievably - only when unobserved.

Each time I turned my gaze, or even pretended to look away, it shifted. Minute changes at first—subtle, almost shy—but growing bolder with each unguarded moment. Yet the instant my eyes return, it halts. Rigid. Innocent. As though it were never alive. This behavior suggests a preternatural awareness of perception itself. It knows when it is being watched.

My preliminary theory is that the Squiggleweed is intrinsically linked to the Myst—perhaps more deeply than surface flora. The Myst may serve as a conduit of sensory awareness for the plant, allowing it to detect intention or observation. Such abilities are not unprecedented in Myst-touched lifeforms, but this degree of perceptive response is rare.

Lichen & Lumina have, wisely, turned its hostile texture to use: artisans collect the weed by dousing it in a soapy solution, halting its movement and rendering it inert. Once frozen, the mixture is used as an exfoliant, remarkably effective against calluses and dull skin. The process is efficient—but it does not explain the source of Squiggleweed’s awareness.

I remain intrigued. What organ grants this plant its vigilance? There are no eyes. No stalks. Not even a Mystal node detectable by trained eyes. Perhaps it feels intention, not sight. Or perhaps it sees in ways we do not comprehend.

A curious plant, more study may start to reveal its secrets... 

- Artisan Lanval