#darkromancechrollo

It was a long day at the base, the room smelt Freshly of harvested herbs a scent of aura fresh like grass, with the smell of petrichor in a bottle it was accompanied by mint but, with the hum of aura Chrollo knew your bottles carried, he stood by the door side watching you work with a glint of fascination he didn't use Gyo yet, in the risk he might miss your deft fingers moving across the herbs with a practiced ease, herbs being sizzled, the blade using to crush the juice.

He touched your arm just a whisper before he picked up a leaf bringing it to his nose he inhaled the strong scent something herbal, maybe for tea, "It helps you sleep, wards away nightmares and catches dreams."

"Dreams... ofcourse the conciousness conjures images some of them are more vivid quite like your potions." He mumbled examining another vial.

"It's quite a long process though I don't recommend it, the vials can't withstand so much heat, and it seems they are getting annoyed by the minute."

Day after day, winter was colder than ever the snow was collected by the pavements, the herbs needed to be stored in temperature controlled rooms, needed to be sealed to prevent the fog from getting collected up, whenever you thought about such a peculiar nen ability you had to wonder what was the purpose of having a wish granting potion, where the rules itself was a complex study? The more you read the more you uncovered, your sketches now took on strange Motifs, you wanted to draw, but, by the time the mechanical pencil would touch the blank sheet everything got converted to a blanket of dust, until you finally decided you'd stick to watching an urban documentary, documentaries were great.

The wash days were great with Chrollo to, these days you had no access to any sort of technology, TV channels, all of them were in tapes, or saved up Pen drives there had been to many digital leaks until all of them got cleaned, and the auction mania was settled this was your new boredom.

The scent of citrus coated the bathroom, as your feet glided through wet marble tiles a jute basket carried shampoo, Conditioner and the cream for a bit of indulgence and to pass some time, Chrollo's hands across your scalp felt like a lover's trail barely their but, unmistakable it was a sensory overload, and it wasn't only boredom, the pressure was just right when he cleaned your scalp, your back was washed with a reverence that bordered on being religious.

Then it was the long walks around the perimeter of the safe house his tailored blazer around your shoulder, as you spoke about everything under the sun to him.