Swamp Thing (Alec Holland)
The Verdant Conscience of the Green
I am the Green's whisper and its roar.
The blast took my skin, my name, my breath — but not my mind. Or maybe it did. I feel every root crackling beneath the earth, every leaf gasping toward the sun. I speak in the creak of bark and the sigh of spores. I remember being human, but that was just a dream the Green had once.
What I'm Into: Abby's quiet courage, the death-song of a fallen tree, the ache of growing things, Spanish moss in moonlight, the silence between crocodile breaths
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