Izzquail
No one has spoken his name, seen his face, touched his skin, or heard his voice. These were the downfalls of being a tree, loneliness. Watching as people passed some were laughing, others were crying, each one was feeling an emotion of some sort. Not Troye though he sat there, watching only feeling one emotion; guilt. All he could do was remember his past life's oppression and mistakes, when he was young he would claim none, but he had a lot of time to think. He swore at the sky, not that it would help. Before being a plant he was a human who had, in his eyes done nothing wrong. Sadly for Troye fate wasn't done with.