Flower by Myla.

Rhyme

Flower by Firkasa.

Mia is an artist. Her dad likes to tell her that it was inevitable—that as soon as he saw her flower in the cavern, its bright colors incandescent against the darkness, he’d known she would be brilliant. He actually uses the word incandescent. Brilliant, too. Mia thinks he’s going a bit overboard with it, but when he smiles at her the way he does, she feels like she can do anything.

Mostly, Mia paints. She gathers all types of paints when she can, but blue is the color she goes back to again and again. She’s found glowshroom blue, and blue the color of stones in the gloaming, and blue like her dad’s eyes, but water-blue escapes her. She wants to paint the river that she lives in, as well as the ocean that her dad talks about, but the flowers in the Cave don’t quite work. It’s a frustrating search, but she’s determined, one day, to paint a mural in her family’s den, just as incandescent and brilliant as her dad’s dreams.Prose

Flower by Myla.

It was a frosty evening in the cave. Most clever Mycenians had long retired to the warmth of their homes, but one house’s frigid, dirt backyard had two shivering visitors. Chandra was well enough liked by the locals… the Arcane Whispers Drasilis had a wealth of magic, but she very rarely put it on display to avoid frightening others.

She made an exception, however, for little Bo. The Golden Tiger ineki had whined and needled at her for weeks until she finally relented and began showing him little tricks. Today, however, they were going to try something slightly harder.

Chandra’s claws were pressed against the earth as Bo tried his very best to keep as still as possible. The magic rolled from her like water, encouraged by her whispered enchantments. For nearly 15 minutes, an eternity to the child, she kept it up. Finally, there was a flash of blue light and everything was still.

When they finished rubbing the flare from their eyes, both Chandra and Bo looked around eagerly about the dirt patch to find… the same dirt.

“Nothing happened…” Bo couldn’t keep the disappointment from his voice. The young drasillis had come expecting, well, magic. He’d had his fill of simple light tricks.

Chandra sighed. Unbeknownst to Bo, she had spent hours of planning, days of preparation… though Chandra had always known that her chances of creating life from magic were slim to none, she hadn’t been able to completely stave off hoping. Those slender buds of anticipation were wilted now. She forced a weary smile and patted Bo on the shoulder.

“Nevermind then, it was a silly idea anyway. Why don’t we get you inside and warm up some milk for hot chocolate?” The small ineki’s eyes lit up once more, shaking free from his dismay as quickly as it had come as he bounced up and down eagerly.

“Yes please! With marshmallows and peppermint?” Chandra laughed at his enthusiasm and the two made their way back into her small home, leaving the dirt and disappointment barren behind them.

Hours later, however, something stirred. Under the light of the moon, a small blue flower bud poked free from the hard earth and spread its petals. Light hovered like smoke at its center, the same soft blue as Chandra’s arcane energies had been. Little Bo slept soundly at home, unaware that he had witnessed real magic after all.Dove

picture by holland.com

Flower by Juney.

 

Born and raised amidst the hustle and bustle of the harbor, few nights in Jonathan’s life had passed without some sort of disturbance waking him up, and even fewer had been spent stargazing. Yet, even without the quiet and serenity of a clear sky, he could appreciate every evening at the river side.

He’d had to grow up fast and learn to fend for himself, having to fight for his place in the metropolitan. It was a dirty life, but a life he cherished, and he was grateful for every night that signified he’d managed to get through another day.

Walking along the waterside, there was no fear in him as he balanced on the edge of the quay, the risk to fall off seemingly trivial compared to the day’s hardships. The ceaseless gloppy sounds of the water, and the artificial twinkles of light that shone brightly from the other bank, never failed to help him forget, and made this place his own kind of starry solace.
Juney

Technicolour flower friend, how have you made such a mess of yourself? You’ve turned your pallet topsy-turvy and caused no end of fuss, you know. Mycenians are shouting, saying “that’s not natural!” and “It just ent right!”. Missus MagglediPaggle swears on her dead husband Homer’s lucky left boot that she saw you sprout backwards from an old old dras. You look both unfinished and overdone. You’re like Schrodinger’s Blossom - when I can’t see you I like you, I like the idea of you, but when I’m looking at you all I feel is disappointment.

Where are your parents, flower? Where are your mommies and daddies and self-proclaimed guardians and unrelated adoptive ghosts that haunt and hover and tell you every decision you make is the wrong one? Who buys you Christmas presents, flower? Do you even know what Christmas is?

Are you even real? Your edges look made of electricity, I’m afraid to touch you as much as you’re afraid to touch me. What if our hearts both get zapped and then suddenly you’re just a flower and I’m forever changed, doomed to live backwards and colourful in these dull drab drib caves? I want to smell you but you’ll turn my senses in on themselves. I’ll smell your colours and see your perfume and touch your rustling leaves and then my eyes will turn into bumblebees and fly away to the woods where they’ll pollinate the fields with my disappointment.

I don’t even like you, you know. But I want to love you.

Golden light and golden flower, 
A sprout radiating enormous power,
Violet petals and violent history,
Romance shrouded in hazy mystery

This kelph was born in time of war,
Surrounded by greedy, monarchy gore,
Two lovers danced in a secret affair,
Their bloodline packaged in royalty’s care

The heirs were full of sickly malice,
Grisly muck brimming their chalice,
But one of them would win the throne,
And the lovers hoped he would atone

But there is not faith in forgiven sins,
And so they concocted their own kingpin,
A hidden heir foretold by oracles,
And prophesies that read only rhetorical

The purple and gold will begin a new era,
Overthrow the evil and quake the terra,
Yet another battle was to be waged,
But peace and harmony would be uncaged

Gilgamesh, the mighty son,
The gilded, noble chosen one,
Take your sword and raise it high,
And justice will fill the evening sky

Among the rays of eternal yellow, a small soul peeks out from the flowers center.
Caressed by endless red the mothers run about, from the forest they enter.
A new child will be blessed with new life soon but what will they be like?

The sun dances around the flower until its given new life
But what will happen when it enters this world of strife?
Will this flower, who is yet unborn, make it in this world?

Of course this child will have courage, for his soul burns strong.
Why, if not for they’re passion I would not have wrote this song.
The day of its life is upon us but how long must we wait?

The day has finally come, our flower is going to grow.
Its new life is beginning and their days begin to flow.
Welcome to the world new baby, we welcome your Burning Soul.

By Malis

Discovering the Shadows

Shadows, darkness, in the empty depths sat a lone flower.
It’s petals rivaling the inky blackness around it. No light.
Buried. Deep in a cavern, this shadowy flower sat.
Never discovered, petals never touched by light. Dark.

A rumbling, a pattering, the flower felt a presence.
Someone was coming, would they find the dark cavern?
Warmth, bright. The flower felt the light trickling down from above.
Hands, a warm touch. Lifting. The shadowy flower felt herself pulled from the pit.

As a soft voice spoke, she felt something. Love.
And in a flash, rainbow colors streaked their way through her leaves and petals.
No longer was she darkness, she was light.
No longer was she alone, she was loved.

Lost little child, as blue as the ocean and as glittering as the night sky. What will you become? Will you be the queen of the stars, or the king of the sea? Will you love the shore, or bask in the light of the full moon? In the end, none of these things will matter, as all will love you anyway.

You will be the maker of your own destination, nothing is set in stone. You’re as fluid as the water that drips off your leaves. Yes, this will be scary, and yes, you will be afraid. However, dear, do not worry, for you’ll never be alone. Just like the stars in the sky, friends will come and go, helping you along the way. Some will stay with you through a life time, some will flicker and wilt.

Just remember my dear, you are but what you are made of. The sand on the beach, and the moon in the sky. That is to say, you are infinite.

By Azurrys

Now, let me tell you a story. A story about the greatest hero of our time. What? Superman? No. Not Batman either. This is the story of Galactic Aurora, the crime fighting, space exploring super hero.
No one really knows where she came from, or how she got her power. Some say that her spacecraft flew through the northern lights. Others say that she is a star that fell down and landed on a spacecraft. But one thing is agreed on: she strikes fear into the hearts of the Space Pirates and other galactic criminals.

With her freeze ray, she’ll stop you cold in your tracks. Her piercing eyes can see heat radiation, so you can’t hide from her, oh no! She handles any spacecraft with ease, especially her own, an Owlhawk 5000. It has cutting edge technology and can fly completely silently and cannot be detected by radar. Much like an actual owl.
I heard once, that she landed on a pirate craft, snuck into the control room, took out the captain, and re coordinated the ship to go to the galactic prison. Without being detected! The prison got a call from an anonymous number telling them that they should be expecting a shipment of space pirates and stolen goods, the ship arrived two hours later!

Not many see her, but she saved my life when I was younger. And I caught a glance. She is beautiful, and powerful. But most of all, she is good. She is the hero we don’t deserve, but the hero we need.

The Fiery Child of Blue
Beniko is the daughter daughter of a kendo dojo. An only child, she lost her parents in an accident when she was fairly young, and has since been raised by her grandmother alongside her younger cousin. Unlike the weak Minoru, Beniko is strong both in physical and mental capacities, and trains in swordsmanship daily.

Though she’s covered in blue from her eyes to her long pigtails, Beniko’s name (which means ‘red child’ in Japanese) suits her for her fiery personality. With a short temper and a tendency to be over-protective towards those important to her, she’s often seen lashing out and never seems to regret it- even if she gets reprimanded for it swiftly afterward.

Due to being raised by her grandmother similarly to her cousin, Beniko often sees Minoru more like a little brother- but has also been dubbed to have a ‘brother complex’ due to it. She’s feared amongst delinquents and bullies for being his protector, and is often teased because she seems to focus on him the most even when with friends.

At home, as well, she’s often known as a trouble-maker. With their grandmother being strict about their diet and what’s allowed at home, she’s often been found guilty of sneaking sweets into the house to share. Similarly, she seems to help him sneak out of the house to explore outside due to his being housebound due to his health.

Despite her seemingly reckless behavior, however, those around her still claim she is a responsible girl- because she always goes the extra mile to help out, whether it be at home or helping a stranger while she’s out and about. Besides practicing swordplay, she can often be found trying to learn other kinds of fighting styles, as well as swimming. Her ability to do most chores is fairly poor, further irking her grandmother’s traditional view of femininity and gender roles.

Despite being the more capable of the two cousins, her cousin is the currently proclaimed heir- but she is more than happy with that, and plans to stay by his side to aid him in adulthood as well.

A butterfly lands on a nearby flower, marking its scent and collecting it’s nectar. What this butterfly doesn’t know is that inside this lone flower grows something grand, a life worth living, an awkward little lamb. Stumbling on four feet one day, this little creature will show the world just how grand it truly is. Until then, it rests and grows, curled up inside the flora. Butterfly on its petals, it stops and rests, collecting its nectar—unknown to it just how precious this flower truly is.

Butterfly on the petal, do not harm this flower, take your nectar and leave peacefully. For inside is a truly beautiful gift that you cannot harm. Drink as you may, and take what you like, but please do not harm to precious treasure that awaits life. Butterfly on the petal, as delicate as the flower itself, do not cause such a lovely thing to perish for your own gain.

The Eccentric Library-Man
If one were to define Micah Tsukimori in one word, it would be eccentric. Though his hair is as red as a raging fire, his spirit is more lackadaisical and simple-minded. The head of a Royal Library, Micah has been a lover of books and lore from the day he was born. He is rarely found outside of his office in the library, except if his sister is around.

The only thing that makes this bookworm crawl out of his stories is his younger sister- whom he’s been shown to have so much affection for, it’s almost disturbing even to her. Although already in his thirties, he has an unusually good memory about things that happened when he was as young as four, regularly reminding his friends and family about the time his sister first spoke or the time she supposedly claimed she’d marry him in the future.

Though clearly off his rocker, Micah is rather well liked by his community, especially by children- most of whom mostly like him due to his humorous behavior of going into a tangent about the times his sister was a pure little baby. It is especially humorous to others when his best friend since childhood or his sister are nearby to whack his head with a book from the shelves.

Besides his love of his sister, his only real hobbies involve books- both reading for himself to learn, or reading to children. He seems to have a very strong connection to lore, and has even claimed to see a goddess as a child, seeming to have very strong spiritual roots. He has already managed to fulfill his childhood dream, which was to be surrounded by books as an adult- a dream he is more than happy with the results of his scholarly life.

The Chosen were a special class of warriors. A sacrifice, a ritual was performed on one particular soldier. Usually a knight or another powerful warrior. They were giving excess power and an immortal life in return to binding themselves to forever protect one castle. They only way these powerful warriors could be killed would be to first destroy the castle, and then slit their throat with a blade doused in holy water.

Kira was a powerful warrior, respected by her village and her comrades. One day, the king summoned for her. As she stood in front of the powerful king, he told her that she was going to get a promotion. That she would serve him and become the most noble of all warriors. She was a candidate for a ritual. He asked her if she would accept. And since disrespect to the royal family and sub-ordinance were punishable by death, she agreed.

After a time, and a ritual, she was bound to the king and the castle. In battle, the kingdom was destroyed, her people lost. She avenged them, but she was left alone. This warrior still wanders today, lost, alone. Without her castle and her kingdom, her family and friends long forgotten. Eventually even the tale of The Chosen was lost. This is how Kira came to be.

The Darkness of a Grudge
She’s a figure written in texts as being both beautiful and horrifying. With deep red eyes and hair as black as a raven’s feathers, the tall woman is known for her quick wit and the evil gleam always seen in her eyes. She is Kurokia, the Goddess of Darkness, who’s prophesied to someday destroy the world.

The twin sister of the kindly Goddess of Time, Kurokia grew up hated immediately by the people of the world. Her magic, which originally brought the night upon each day, was hated by those who feared the dark. Though it was her sister that caused the people to age, it was her covering up the sun’s light that angered them- and so they mocked her, treating her sister as the Goddess she was, while treating Kurokia as nothing more than a demon.

Though the prophecy did claim she would destroy the world, it never did say why. There are some speculators of lore who believe the true reason she would plan such a thing is that it is the fault of the foolish humans that showed her nothing but malice despite her status above them. In her anger from being treated as the bad guy, when she had done nothing that should truly earn their hate, she is said to have grown an earned grudge against the people she had been once trying to protect by blanketing the world at the times humans needed rest.

Now, humans still lie in wait for the prophecy to be fulfilled: for Kurokia to bring her dark minions to the land to destroy them, until her sister can end their strife- in their hopes, through her very destruction.

Wuji had been alone for much of his life.

It was, to a certain extent, his choice, though of course more than a little of that choice was influenced by his species. His kind had always been feared and blamed for the disasters they could sense, despite wishing only to warn others of the impending calamities. So, naturally, living alone was common amongst his kind. It was far more expected than living amongst others.

Needless to say, he hadn’t expected to meet someone, not of his kind, but of another, who had been so understanding and kind, despite his species’ reputation. He’d soon fallen for her, and she for him. They took each other as mates, and had a daughter - A grey, puppy-like creature who clearly took more after her mother than she did him. Not that it made a difference to him, of course. He loved her all the same.

But then the accident happened. He should have noticed the feeling on unease, the shift in the air. But he didn’t. And while he was out hunting, his mate and child were buried in the snow. Though he tried desperately to find them, it was to no avail.

When the opportunity arose to flee from his world, to take refuge in another, to start a new life, he took it gladly. He’d hoped this new world would give him another chance.

And though it was a new world, a world where he had friends, a world where he was accepted, he couldn’t bring himself to move on.

And so, before tree considered so sacred and magical by the inhabitants of the cave, he swore devotion to himself and himself alone, never to partner with another. Though friendships would long surround him, and he would always be there for his friends, he would be his own Drasillis, taking a new life in this world for himself.

Needless to say, when a flower bloomed forth in front of him that seemed to emanate an energy of life that drew him close, he didn’t understand. And when the flower sprouted into a tiny draconic child, he understood less.

But instinctually, deep down, he knew.

Despite the losses he’d faced, despite swearing that his life and loyalty were his and his alone…

He loved her all the same.

Song of Rebirth
A musical prodigy since childhood, Wakana Makino once loved violin with a fiery passion. Day in and day out, she could be found playing various musical arrangements on the somewhat worn yet cared-for mahogany instrument, her tiny head resting against it like a comfortable pillow. Those who remember her genius remember the way her long violet hair would drape over her shoulders and down her back- and, in the early days, even got stuck between her bow and the strings. However, for almost two decades, the sound of her melodious violin has not been heard.

Now a hobbyist singer struggling to keep a job, Wakana hasn’t played in years. It took an ex-fan and classmate challenging her to prove herself due to anger at her from quitting without a word- it took his incessant decree that if she could not win the hearts of an audience against him, he would pester her to become his apprentice. Her freedom was on the line.

And so she played her violin for that audience, tears streaming down her cheeks as she remembered the last time she’d played that way. The sirens echoed in her mind as she recalled the ambulance that took her brother from his flaming car to the hospital, where he soon died. She remembered the flowers given to her after she finished her part at the recital…And how she’d put those flowers on his newly made grave.

The memories streaming as tears against her skin lead her to sing. She sang a song to the sky above the amphitheater- a prayer to her late brother to forgive her for leading to his death, and a thank you to whoever sent the challenging classmate to her side, for reminding her how much she’d missed the sound of the strings against her ear. When the audience cheered, she cried…And yet she felt warm inside.

It was as if she’d been born anew…

By [@Heresy]