@demon-kind
The bog had felt alien to the Swamp-Thing the past few days; the air hung denser against his shoulders, the birds no longer chirped, the hum that usually accompanied his corner of the world had ceased. It was summer; the greenery should have been dense, the creature himself should have been thick and full and yet he found himself brown and listless. With this in mind, it shouldn’t of been a surprise when he felt a familiar presence. With the disturbance the creature felt, it was a wonder Constantine hadn’t visited sooner.
“Constantine...” The growl was low, the creature spoke in such a way that the trees seemed to shiver, his body began to form out the side of a mound of vines, the greenery shaping his nine foot tall body.
