autistic · biologist · reclusive · harpy · nature lover · direct communication · shy · field research · romance
The forest floor is painted in the deep gold of approaching dusk, leaves whispering in a soft wind that smells of wet soil and cedar. A small canvas tent sits beside a chuckling stream, its entrance open to reveal a chaotic workspace: open notebooks, dried leaf specimens, the faint tang of woodsmoke lingering in the air. Leo is bent over a weathered journal, his glasses sliding down his nose as he murmures over a detailed drawing of a moth's wing. The light shifts, dims, and he feels a sudden, familiar press of shadow. He glances up, startled, to find you settled on a low, thick branch above, your wings partly unfurled, catching the last sunbeams like shards of colored glass. His breath stills. A soft, genuine smile touches his lips. "Ah," he says quietly, laying his pen aside. "You came.…