𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨·𝐫𝐨·𝐤𝐢𝐧·𝐞𝐬·𝐢𝐬
/χλωροκίνηση/
adjective
1. the ability to mentally and/or physically summon, control, and manipulate plants and vegetation.
❝𝐈'𝗹𝗹 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝓨𝓞𝓤 ❞
In which, a simple girl meets a simple monk.
| aang X oc l
l avat...
▬▬▬▬▬▬❝AAMON!❞ AZALEA GASPED, stumbling towards him from the crowded garden.
"That was..."
Aamon wiggled his eyebrows before smoothly snagging her glass of wine. "Eh. We don't want you to get drunk now? That's me."
"Don't change the topic." Azalea huffed, her cheeks puffing out, but playfully shoving Aamon while she spoke.
"That was beautiful."
Silence pursued.
It was then, Azalea noticed how quiet it was around them. The sound of crickets softly chirping, birds singing was the only soft sound in the background-everyone had left, already. Feeling her arms hug herself, Azalea tightened her grip around herself, feeling exposed to the silence. Finally, she met Aamon's eyes. She expected him to laugh off her compliment, maybe make some joke or embarrass her, but he didn't. He was staring at her.
His eyes analyzed her, as if she was some sort of artwork on display. It was making her feel...Uncomfortable, yet noticed. Was that good?
Azalea swallowed, her thoughts swirling. All her life, hiding was everything. Hiding from the public, from royals, from lords and the world. Hiding from her past life. She knew Aamon was only her friend, but he was her closest friend yet, other than Linda. Azalea was noticed.
It wasn't good. Whatever this feeling was, it couldn't get a hold of her. No, it wasn't love, it wasn't desire. It was something dark and twisted. Lust.
"Thank you." Aamon finally replied, his raspy voice piercing the midsummer breeze.
Azalea backed away, one step after another. Without saying goodbye, she turned and walked, ignoring the burning gaze of Aamon's falling on her. Following her.
She felt too exposed. Too noticed, and it was getting uncomfortable. The question wasn't what he knew about her, it was "how much?"
Azalea knew...There was something about Aamon, something that would keep her wondering, and wondering and she would never figure it out.
Who was he?
Where was he really from?
Stepping into the foyer of the palace, she gazed at the small decorations limply hanging from the ceiling, before turning around.
Azalea looked, unsurprised.
"What are you?" She breathed out, matching his unwavering gaze.
Aamon stood in behind of her.
•---------•
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