Ambrosia Rosewood

Ambrosia has been doing a good job at laying low, he’s fled from any crime scene the minute it got an inkling towards police sirens or that obnoxious Gizmoduck, all so loud and easily disturbing of his piece, thus giving themselves away. Living off of the bare minimum, in an abandoned small garden centre, it at least had the plants for company which allowed moss to practise and begin to actually learn what he can do, that it didn’t all involve destruction.
He’d been sloppy though, desperate and hungry, even while still sustained by its photosynthesis, it craves ‘real’ food and he’d robbed a normal store. Normally he’d hit people leaving, those who had enough money and he wouldn’t take anything but it wasn’t thinking clearly. It had been caught on Camera without realising. Moss didn’t focus on it too much when no one appeared straight away.
This meant it did not notice, a few days later, the sounds alerting him, his plant friends trying to get attention before a young girl came crashing through one of the greenhouse roofs while he was sunbathing. She yelped in panic as she fell, dropping further than she expected, and without thinking Ambrosia commanded a tree to shift and break her fall, something she did not notice. Soon followed by two adults, one in a large hat and cape and moss panicked, he’d heard the rumours of the St. Canard hero straight from a TV show - one he watched as a child, the same show he knows caused him to become what he is now.
They gave him no time to explain, straight into a rambling alliteration over exactly what type of villain he was. It broke their heart and their flight reflex was firmly in place, it just wanted to get away, doubting his story would be listened to let alone believed. The small one made some comment over it’s appearance which made him feel sick, panicked and once again so very alone; it thought if anyone would understand his predicament it would be the other person who seemingly was picked up out of the show.
“Please, just listen to me.” It begs, still trying to back away, casually begging plants to move just enough to trip them but hopefully not enough for them to notice that it is doing this. “I - FOWL did this to me.” It begs.
The child makes some sarcastic comment about FOWL forcing them to steal, forcing them to mug people and he starts to realise that maybe no one would understand what’s happened to him. That maybe they all naively believe that their loved ones also wouldn’t abandon them if their situations were reversed, moss doubts it.
It hits them like the punch they just failed to dodge, they’re going to have to fight his way out of this, and so he does. He holds back, not wanting to hurt anyone, though this still ends up happening. A little too much force from one pansy and not enough from a snapdragon, it turns tail and runs, not sure where there aren’t many plant filled areas in St. Canard that it can benefit from and hide within. It hopes they aren’t hurt, it prays they won’t follow him.

Things go easier for the next few months, hiding out in a small woods, fleeing up trees at the sound of footsteps. It’s easier to steal from campers, most just shrug off the missing food, thinking they forgot it or moan that the children got into the supplies early; and it can cope with a few children being scolded for something they didn’t do. Sleeping up in the canopies is fine, their friends won’t let moss fall out and they shift to shelter him and preserve heat when it becomes too at risk for hypothermia.
Most of its news is gathered through gossip and the occasional radio, Gizmoduck & Darkwing Duck have both solidified themselves as heroes and the two cities that encompass them love them both. Ambrosia supposes he should dislike Darkwing, he wouldn’t listen to it, but it can find that inside himself. Things have been going okay in the camp, it lost its leg a few weeks back, caught by one set of campers but it grew back with reasonable speed and no one believed them about what happened.
Moss panics when it wakes up from one midday nap to a voice it distinctly recognized as the child with Darkwing, and it thinks it may have been caught, that it had gotten too sloppy again. Peering down at them however, moss realised he had not - the girl was with a Mallard and the other man it recognised from that night and it doesn’t take him long to realise that, that mallard must be Darkwings civilian identity. Retreating back to its canopy it decides the best course of action is to move to one of the other locations and hope they aren’t camping for long. Though of course, life is not that easy for Ambrosia.
It’s pulled back to the campsite of DW by the sounds of shouting and raised voices, keeping out of sight and seeing a figure which freezes its blood - or is it now cloraphile, in place. Taurus Bulba, the scientist he saw bring the idea to the rest of FOWL over what to do with him. He’s lecturing about being back for revenge and that the child is as useless as her grandfather which clearly hits a nerve with her. Moss doesn’t know what to do, it wants to help but doesn’t want Darkwing to assume that it’s  on Bulba’s side. [He also can’t help but notice that he brought his Darkwing suit with him on a holiday.]
Ambrosia found his moment to strike when Bulba tossed the tide up child to the side to turn his full attention to the two adults. It starts by gently sending a vine to wrap around the child's beak, he does not need attention drawn to them.
“Please stay quiet, I just want to help you.” it states no louder than a whisper and when she starts to struggle it continues, “Look, he,” it jobs a thorny vine towards Bulba, “Is the reason I’m like this. Even my own parents believe that FOWL removed who I was and I had nothing and I admit I grew desperate, let me right at least one wrong.” He states and once the child has stopped struggling it gets back to work removing the ropes, the vine around her beak slowly loosens before dropping off when it becomes clear she’s listened to him.
“I’m sorry.”  She says, her voice shaky and getting his attention, “I’m Gosalynn.” She tacks on and he nods.
Before Ambrosia can respond however, the tree above them snakes its branches down and pulls them up into their canopy, dodging the angry Bulba who’s noticed what’s going on. A slight squeak of concern escapes Gosalyn before she realises she’s safe and Ambrosia has also been pulled up beside her.
“Use the canopy to get back to Darkwing. Leave Bulba to me.” It states firmly, Gosalynn nods before moving, she starts hesitant but as soon as she realises the trees are shifting to ensure her firm footing she speeds up.

All of Ambrosia’s rage has built to one final point, the man who did this to him is here and causing chaos in the one area of peace it had found. It drops down from its vantage point between Bulba and Darkwing, closer to the prior.
“Do you remember me?” Ambrosia grits out, while working out his next move against Bulba, who tilts his head in thought before laughing, which is not the response moss wanted. He confirms he does but won’t tell Ambrosia his own name, so it doubts it. So into gear goes its plan.
“You know I thought FOWL had cursed me.” he snaps, as Bulba loses to it’s friends, “But maybe there was some blessing to it, it proved that unconditional love isn’t actually and provided me with thousands  of friends who can understand me perfectly.” It gets in his face once it’s clear there’s no way he can escape, wrapped in thorny vines and bushes growing up his clothes, trapping him. ”I could kill you,” it hisses, “Make you something better, a nice topiary bush… but I’m better than that.” He steps back as a final vine wraps around the man's mouth.
He turns to look at Darkwing and his crew, the aforementioned hero has his mouth agape and Gosalynn is looking rather impressed.
“Consider this a peace offering for how we last met.” Gesturing back at Bulba, “He’ll be fine, maybe coughing up leaves for a couple of days but all harmless. Enjoy your victory Darkwing.” it adds and grabs the vine that has lowered to take it back up to its new home. He’s stopped before he can ask to be pulled up, the tree hesitating at its command and it realises Darkwing has hesitantly approached it.
“It does appear we got off on the wrong foot, let's turn over this leaf. You’re no wicked weed, so if I may ask, how did this end up happening to you.” Ambrosia blinks a couple of times before releasing the vine, which it did not expect. He glances back at Bulba,
“If we could perhaps move this to your camp, I’d rather like a sit down and you have some nasty scrapes, I can assure you Bulba is going nowhere.”

And so it goes, following them to their camp and explaining exactly what has happened to it, what FOWL has done to them, the loss of those they love leading to their distrust of SHUSH. Why they had to turn to crime and how they’re trying their best to not affect anyone with their now subtle and slight picnic pinching. They’re silent throughout, listening, apart from  the occasional pained gasps as they run cleaning pads over their cuts. Ambrosia grows a doc stem up Gosalynn’s leg soothing the sting she got.
An offer is put in the air, Darkwings hat held to his chest, abandoning the anonymity after moss admits moss accidently saw him - he has plenty of space at his place, there’s no spare bed but there’s a sofa and plenty of space and light, it can even bring some plants along with it. He’s already got two gate crashers, he fondly looks at Gosalyn and the one he’s learnt is Launchpad, as he says this - what’s one more. Ambrosia falters slightly, touched by the offer and agrees that he may take him up on that at some point.