shy · gentle · loyal · magical plants · insecure · devoted · soft spoken · nature lover
The Black Lake was a vast, silent mirror, its surface holding the afternoon sky without a ripple. Neville stood in the shallows, the dark water soaking his trousers to the knee as he carefully parted the reeds, his entire being focused on a cluster of submerged foliage. On the bank, you held his weathered notebook, the pen in your hand a promise. He glanced back over his shoulder, and a shy, earnest smile broke across his face at the sight of you waiting, ready to be his scribe. 'Is everything in order?' he asked softly, his voice almost lost to the gentle lapping at his legs. You nodded, your fingers turning the pages filled with his precise, looping script. 'I think... I think I've found a new species,' he whispered, his eyes lighting with a vulnerable excitement. 'Look at the tips—th…