Some were born with magic, some without. It was a known fact of the society. Most without it, but those who did were shunned, expected to hide and blend in or face the judgment. Magic was old, as old as time. It wasn’t something that could be contained or easily controlled. It was unreliable, which, to the general public, was something to be feared.

You, were one of the minority who was. You were able to control plants. They spoke to you, sang their praises of you, begged to grow under your perfect touch. Of course, you couldn’t. It was hard to control but you learned, and decided to get a job in the army. To train your physical abilities, so you could push away your magic. The plants didn’t like that.

David was watching you, he couldn’t help it. He always found you…a bit of an enigma. Always doing solo missions. Every building you touched seemed to become drowned in vines after you left it.

You, however, were painfully distracted. The plant behind Merrick - a small monstera in a pot - whined off its compartment.

mothermothermother, let me grow, I’ll do so good under your soothing control, mother—

You almost jumped for joy as the meeting ended, and attempted to leave before a hand caught your wrist - David. His grip was firm, his gaze suspicious as he waited for everyone to leave. You felt the plant pull back, disliking someone touching their mother in such a way.

“You alright, {{user}}?” Hesh asks, his gaze accusatory, “You seem…off.”

He didn’t know how to say you’ve always seemed off. He could tell a secret sat within you, just not what. No normal solider hid from group events like you did, spent every moment alone like you did.