Note: She needs the Cassiopia Hedyloidea accent
When I first got her:




An older member of our clan...Azalea came here looking for a dream. Quiet and socially-awkward, she rarely speaks at all. Many newcomers go MONTHS thinking she's mute, only for her to murmer a "hello" in passing, and startle the heck out of them.

Since coming here...she's made our clan's territory downright ENCHANTING. She has an AMAZING Green-thumb, and has filled our territory with flowers, vines, trees, and plants of ALL sorts. She has taken up botany and herbalism, and often makes medicines and salves for those in our clan as well as the best-smelling home made herbal soaps and perfumes I've ever had the pleasure of using.

She is well loved by all in our clan, and although she does not speak much, she does often give bouquets with great care. Each flower has a meaning, you see...
..she speaks much more easily in the language of flowers.

All you really have to do is listen.


Azalea is not one to speak much of her life before coming here...from what I can gather, her former clan was a shadow clan engaged in...less then moral activities. Her anxiety may have been caused by an emotionally abusive upbringing...or perhaps she was abandoned by her clan due to it. The only thing Azalea will say is that before us she was "Aimless...I had no ability to care for my own life. I did not value my own existence"

It seems that caring for her plants, and being treated wit caring, has allowed her to find value in herself as well. This, I believe, is what caused her colors to change and brighten, and why she is less easily frightened today then she once was.



She had not lived an easy life.
She had been born into a clan of raiders in shadow...a clan that viewed thievery as a fun prank, and murdering travelers as a humorous joke. They had expected her to view things the same but her skydancer magic caused the pain o their victims to be as real as her own. She could not perform the tasks asked of her. Their words or actions...and the pain and scars both left eventually diving fear into her deep enough for her to surpass her instincts...but doing this wore on her own mind. So much fear...living in a constant fear. Her own. The fear of countless victims of her clan. Crimes excused as being approved of by a silent god.

Young, and of torn mind and broken spirit, she had found solace in her mother's teachings of plants...seeing beauty in what her clan viewed as simply a poisonous thing to lace their weapons and claws. The plants did not scream, or yell, or hurt...they held no expectations o her. Told no excuses, and did not drive fear into her like a nail...fixturing her to a life she did not wish to lead, but was too fearful to leave.

One day...those save plants did help her leave. Under the cover of night she had fled, leaving behind only sleeping guards who smelled of poison, and the soft sent of flowers. Only when her wings became weary of flying and her heart slow it's beating did she finally stop to rest and wonder; What next?

So day after day she continued flying and walking, wondering at this. She knew nothing but the life she'd lead and plants. She had held hope only that someday she would escape. Now she had, and now, she was...lost.
She had been nothing but scales and bones when the strangely...soft...Beast clan hybrid and her fae companion had found her.

Expecting screams and pain, she had flown away and hid.
This pattern repeated until the pair; (and some freshly cooked food), coaxed her into coming ever nearer, until one day, she found herself living among those of the small clan. Their smiles unmalicious, their laughter not over the suffering of others...it had been new. It had been strange...but she could feel it...they were happy. They were caring. They...cared about her.
Slowly, but surely, her goal became to return that caring. To maintain and protect their happiness.
Her clan, and her garden...these things satisfied her. She had no need to take on a permanent mate. No inclination, nor will to do so.
She had been comfortable. Completely satisfied.

Then came the day she drifted from her clan territory, intent on getting a particular, more rare ingredient to make medicine for a youngling who had fallen ill.

She had been very carefully collecting the amount she needed when a Loga attacked. She was a fast flyer. Years of living with the raiders had made her flighty, cautious...but her guard always went down when she was tending to plants. The sudden attack left her stunned...and one of her wings dislocated. Her dark eyes flickered about...searching for a way to escape as the Loga neared her for another attack.

Then a loud noise erupted from nearby, and the creature was gone. Running away in fright. She herself was unsure of rather she should be relieved, or fearful of whatever creature had scared off the Loga. Tensing, she tucked her wings behind her as tightly as her limp wing would allow, and prepared to run...
...but it was not a creature who faced her.
It was a male skydancer, not much larger then she. He did not appear to be native to wind, and she did not recognize him as being from a neighboring tribe...confused, she tilted her head at him as he looked her over. Body still tense, legs read to run...
...then he just...left.

He had saved her...apparently without ill intent. Puzzled, she followed him, and watched as he fell asleep.

What on earth was he doing? Sleeping out in the open with no one else to help him, and no friendly wind clan for miles?

Slowly, cautiously...she approached, making sure he truly was asleep. A sleeping person was far less frightening then an awake one, and this one had scared off a loga with simply a sound and a pounce.
Once she was a foot away, she sat down and studied him carefully fore a time before coming to a decision. She promptly stood, and went off in search of some very specific flowers to leave for him;

Deep pink roses, dwarf sunflowers and agrimony, (Gratitude..."Thank you") and pink carnations, ("I will never forget you").

...And forget him, she did not.
Even after hiking back and getting her wing set back into place, she, despite herself, wound up flying over to check on the lone stranger just a little over a day later.
Her flowers had been disturbed, but there he was...asleep in that same spot.


Had the wind blown them off...? Had he really been...SLEEPING there the whole time?
Now she was getting concerned for him...but also that he did not seem to get her prior message. He may have slept through it, for all she knew...and the flowers she'd placed before were withering.

That day, she left him irises "I have something to say to you", Dahlias "My thankfulness evidently, exceeds your caring," and canary grass, "but I will keep trying".

So she did.
Day after day she began to leave him flowers. It became a habit...maybe even something of an event. Something she prepared for, something she looked forewards to...
...his image would not leave her mind. She wanted...what, exactly?
To hear his voice, was one...she'd never heard him speak...she wanted to know if he liked the flowers...and why he was always sleeping in the middle of nowhere alone...she wanted to show him her garden...he home.
She wanted to see him smile.

Tenderly, she laid out the dozenth message for him...a gift of Everlasting "Your memory will not leave my mind", White poppies, "Do you think sleep will cure your troubles?", Coronella "If so...then I wish you success in it...", and she reached out to place the final flowers, White clovers.
"...but please think of me too."

Just as she did so, however, the male stirred, and then awoke. Flustered, she quickly jumped back, wings stiff and ready to take her up and into the air, her dark eyes wide.
He rose up, and she stayed unmoving.

"These your's?" He was asking something of her...she knew that...but she was busy listening more so to the SOUND of his voice then his words.
So that was what his voice sounded like...a bit husk and raw from having just woken up...but it was...nice. Very nice.

Then he was walking towards her...and she could not move. Neither her feet nor wings would do so. Her heart was POUNDING but she could not determine whether it was from fear, or...

"Who are you?"

Who indeed?
She was the gardener, the herbalist, the silent, timid one...she could speak up. She could telling him her name...but that did not seem to be enough. She wanted him to know more...she wanted to know HIM more...but she was frozen. Eyes studying every movement he made, but the rest of her as still as stone.
"Hey, are you al-"

He was reaching out now...and she closed her eyes. Her instincts and fears screamed at her to be cautious...that she was putting herself into a position to be harmed, but...
...he did not FEEL dangerous.
Not at all.
Still...she waited for more words...to be touched...or even hit...when no expectations were met, she opened her eyes. His feelings...his feelings were...?
Hands shaking, she very carefully took the outstretched paw in her own.


The next day, she woke up covered in flowers.[/i]