“Why did you drag me out here? Stop being so cryptic. You know I hate surprises,” Oxid groused, watching as Icaria skipped ahead of him. The rescuer’s gaze kept dancing along the deep, dark tunnel for any sign of danger. Only blackness, rough-hewn stone walls, and the click, click, click of Icaria’s paws across the floor. It was unusual for Icaria to want to venture outside of the city, and so the fact that the other kelph had dragged him to this remote, barren cave was beyond baffling.

Icaria’s voice echoed back from the darkness, a sparkling laugh completely at odds with their dour surroundings. The laughter became more and more distant as the moments passed, and Oxid heard his companion’s hurried footfalls as he dashed ahead. The rescuer felt his heart leap into his mouth. “Icaria, wait! This isn’t…!”

Oxid dashed ahead, trying to catch up with Icaria. His companion should know how much he hated blundering ahead in unfamiliar caverns; as the more practiced of the two in traveling and adventure, Oxid always insisted upon going ahead and making sure the path was clear and safe before letting Icaria tag along. This flagrant dismissal of their usual dynamic made Oxid more than concerned, but terrified.

It didn’t take long for Oxid to catch up to the brillant yellow Icaria, his fur bright and capricious even in the dim light. Hear still hammering in his breast, the rescuer skidded to a halt next to his companion. Icaria did not turn to face him, but instead was staring intently at the cavern ceiling. “Icaria! Didn’t you hear me?! What were you thinking?! Anything could have attacked y-”

Icaria reached over and put a paw over Oxid’s mouth, forcing his gaze upward with his other paw. “And they call me the dramatic one! Look, this is what I brought you out here for. You’ve never been outside the cave, so I thought you might like to see the real sky! Not a fake magic one in a cavern,” Icaria said.

Oxid’s eyes widened as his gaze was forced upward, spotting the smallest of holes in the cavern ceiling. It was too far to reach, and much too small for anyone to ever wriggle through, but it was there. The navy-black of the sky blended in with the rough blackness of the ceiling. The only thing that gave away the true nature of the small fragment of sky was a spattering of stars glimmering above.

Based on UnseenRangerGal‘s flower!

“What color is this?” Móinn asked.

The jotun sighed and rolled over, peeling back the tanned fur that he had curled up underneath. His bed of dried grass and rushes rustled underneath him as he shifted. Prying open one of his six, glowing eyes, the frost giant glanced at the feather that the lindworm was holding out towards him. The dim, white light from his pupil revealed yet another pale-gray feather.

“Blue,” he muttered, already preparing to sink back into his bed. Maybe the lindworm would stop bugging him about the color of feathers if he found something that wasn’t gray. This had to be the fourth or fifth time Móinn roused him tonight just to identify a color.

The frost giant saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he knew what was going on Hrímnir heard a low growl in his ear, felt familiar claws digging into the exposed skin of his chest. Ever-so-slowly, Móinn tilted his head to the side and looked into the lindworm’s snarling face. His lips were pulled back to reveal sharp and jagged teeth. His nostrils flared with anger. There was only a line of jagged scales where eyes would be on any other creature, but the frost giant was no fool. He knew that the lindworm could track him through sound and his unique, heat-sensing organs as well as any sighted creature could. Better even. Móinn was built to be a predator. The frost giant froze in place, even his breath stilling.

“You’re lying,” hissed Móinn. “You know how I feel when you lie.”

Hrímnir bit down on his tongue, fighting back a snappish retort. That would only encourage the lindworm, and this was a battle that the frost giant knew he couldn’t win. The lengthening silence between them, though, clearly revealed that Móinn expected some sort of response. “I regret the day I explained the concept of colors to you,” Hrímnir finally forced out.

There were more questions on the tip of the frost giant’s tongue. Why did Móinn care if he couldn’t even see them? The outfits the lindworm managed to craft in this dreary wilderness were already impressive enough without having to color match. Besides, it was nearly impossible to find anything vibrant and colorful in a swamp to use as decoration. Why waste hours combing the wilderness to find one vibrant feather among the hoards of pale grey, brown, and black? They had chores to do, territories to defend, things to steal. It was all quite annoying.

The lindworm answered with a slight chuckle, his grip on Hrímnir loosening. The tension broken, the frost giant felt more confident in shifting his gaze, glancing down where the lindworm’s claws had grazed them. He was surprised to see that they had not even shattered his ice-like skin.

“You’ll understand someday, my treasure,” the lindworm teased.

The frost giant gave an exasperated sigh,  finally allowing himself one daring reply that he hoped wouldn’t test the lindworm’s mood. “How did you even know I was lying? Not even my family could tell when I was spinning the truth.”

Inspired by Gabriel‘s flower ♥

She was a look. A glance over an empty wine bottle.
Their fingers, both stumbling over the stem of the same glass.
The lipstick on the rim was hers.
“I was going to clean up.”
Words spoken, fingers now lacing.
She seemed lost in thought, but only for a moment.
Her fingertips graced her wrist, soft.
Her words were silent but clear to her - that it could wait until tomorrow.
The bottle, the glasses, the lipstick, all of it.
Her bracelets made a small clink as they fell over each other.
“Well… It can wait.”
It was no big deal after all.
She smiled.
She kissed her hand, her wrist.
That lipstick again, now settled upon her skin.
She spoke out loud this time, gentle and slow.
“Good.”
Within her eyes, love.

Based on Oxtons flower

Based on this flower

For my second flower.  A sequel piece to my first arrangement.

Ten days had passed in Peacha’s garden cave, where she and her assistant kept a wide array of botanical specimens under observation.  The mystery sprout had been given its own little shelf, wrapped cozily in a transparent tarp to create a mini-greenhouse.  For ten days it had received ample warmth and light from the ever-burning brazier at the top of the cavern.  And now it was gone.

In its place were a multitude of tiny new blooms, identical in color but in shapes that resembled each species of sprout that could be birthed by the sacred tree.  The little shelf was full of them.  “How?” Altamira gestured dramatically to Peacha and then to the shelf.

A shrug.  “The same way every flower multiplies, I guess.”  Peacha could only maintain an incredulous smile.  “It dropped seeds and the seeds sprouted up.”

“Okay, but how?”  The little mini-greenhouse was five shelves high, and each was occupied with pots of the new purple flower.  “Did you just put a bunch of empty pots in there?  For no reason?”

“It’s a nice greenhouse, I’m not going to waste it on ONE plant.  Thank you for getting me this, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”  The two stepped away from the overgrown shelf as the magical experts of the academy approached to investigate.  It was determined a week ago that the progenitor plant had no trace of the sacred tree’s aura.  Dizzy did a full scan of it’s planty chakras and found nothing unusual.  Templissa sensed no ghosts or spirits in the vicinity, for whatever that information was worth.  Altamira suspected that the magicians were simply going through the motions of a magickal investigation.  None of them were experts in magical plants.  Vambelle licked a petal, just to be weird, then walked away without a word.

Every curious Mycenian in the academy got their turn to poke and prod at the flowers, and day turned to night.  Peacha and Altamira shooed away the last stragglers and prepared to lock the garden for the night.  As they approached the door it opened from the other side, and Chihiro popped her head in.  “One more,” she grinned and pushed the door open to reveal Bellflower close behind her.

Bellflower had been out of the academy for a few weeks.  An entomologist, she often took trips out to the wilder caves of Mycena, to maintain a system of feeders she has set up to attract the local insect population.  She must have just returned, sooner than expected.  Often she would be gone for months at a time, only to turn up with volumes of notes about some new bug she found.  She had clearly been informed about the new flower.  She walked directly to the new greenhouse shelf, Chihiro close behind.

“Welcome back, Belf.”  Altamira smiled, “You like the new flowers?  I found ‘em.  In a cave, obviously.”

Bellflower nodded and made a musical little tone of acknowledgement.  With a gesture, she had Chihiro hand her one of the academy’s books of botanical lore.  She flipped through, quickly found a page, and turned to shove the whole book in Altamira’s face.  “It’s great!  Look at this.”

The page depicted a purple orchid with a thick lowest petal, shaped and colored like an abstract bee.  It looked nothing like the mystery flowers.  Altamira looked over the information and then back up into Bellflower’s excited eyes.  “Neat, but what’s it mean?”

“They look like SPROUTS!”  Bellflower grinned, “They tricked us!”  Altamira gave her a look of confusion, but Peacha’s face lit up.

“It tricked us!”  Peacha gripped Altamira by the shoulders and laughed.  “A bee orchid pretends it’s a bee to attract pollenators.  The sprout flower attracted US by pretending to be a baby!  And we took it home and gave it a whole greenhouse to propogate in!”

“What!”  Altamira laughed.  The four ineki laughed together for the rest of the night.

In between flowers I discovered a bit of old nail polish and decided to use it (now my room spells strongly of fumes)

My own flower!

“A sigh of wind, a whisper of air,
A home, empty - no one there.
A burst of light, they said,
The child to holy light was fed.

For under light grows shadows long,
And none can deny the goddess’s song.
The child’s mother, wise in years,
Lovingly, sadly, set aside her fears.

And cast her daughter to the light,
Where for eternity her soul shines bright.
May her path be ever lit,
And forever empty will her grave sit.”

So says the legend of the house on the shore,
A tale of darkness cast beneath the light,
And a warning of hearth and home empty forevermore -
For in the face of the divine it matters not your might.
Seek instead the strength of the mother,
That you might sacrifice yourself for another.

For Hoax‘s entry!

Slowly, the sun crept higher above the cave until it found a crack in the rocky canopy to break through the darkness and touch The Sacred Tree. A lone sprout on the tallest branch was the first to greet the sunlight. Once one petal unfurled to welcome the warmth of the morning, the rest burst from the kernels in the center, turning it’s vibrant yellow and gold face towards the light.

The day smiled back with a steady stream of glistening light, and for it’s eagerness to share its beauty with the day, the sprout was rewarded generously with the greenest stem and goldest petals. There was something to being the early bird, or maybe it was that seizing the day truly had it’s benefits.

Whatever it was, the little sprout thrived.