#just flowers

[littlefeatherr]

Helleborus x hybridus ‘Odile’, 2013

From the series ‘Rembrandt Still Life’ Ron Van Dongen

[ernestosankuri]

[king-of-the-oranges]

What if when they died flowers bloomed where they rested? Nothing else can grow there, and the flower almost always is the colour associated most with the person.

(E.g. Pearl gets red roses, Grian would get poppies, Jimmy would get dandelions and Tango would get orange tulips. I have no idea what to give people like Joel who’s main colour is green.)

[izayoichan]

Milo: That's my personal hidden garden, have a look perhaps you can use some of it. I mainly keep it because it's pretty. -he chuckles.-

Meadow stops looking down at the meadow filled with flowers, trees and some water. She smiles brightly at all the flowers and walks away from him towards his small garden.

Meadow: It is beautiful! Did you do all this? 

She looks around, kneeling down to inspect and orchid with a smile.

Meadow: Beautiful! -then she gets up, grinning- What? No large waterfalls or fairies? Expected more pizzazz from a god! -she winks playfully- I'm in college studying geology and biology. I want to understand both the stones and the plants I use for my alchemy and my trinkets. Milo: Well, I had some help from the people I work with, but most of it yes. 

He chuckles, grinning at her comment about the lack of faeries and waterfalls. 

Milo: I am horrible at this whole god thing.. I may need to do better. 

He seems to ponder for a while, as if he could make what she just mentioned happen by magic. He does hold up a finger, walking over to one of the sides, getting one of the stones from there, holding it out to her, the rock having been split and inside there was a blue crystal. 

Milo: I always wondered what this one is, I mean I know several, like amethyst, but this one I don't know it. - he chuckles. - I'm a horrible god aint I? Can't even tell crystals apart, and has no magical waterfall in his garden..

Meadow gives him a kind smile. She doubted he didn’t know about the stone, but decided to indulge him, taking it gently.

Meadow: That’s a celestite crystal cluster. You should know about them, they’re associated with divine power and the heavens. -she inspects the rock- it would make some beautiful jewelry. They’re a good stone for focus and inspiration. Could make some good trinkets for meditation too... -she holds out the stone for Milo- I love it here though. It’s a beautiful place. What do you usually do here? Milo: I guess that explains why someone left them here.

He smiles, much as it would surprise many, he didn't know much about rocks, plants on the other hand was where his strength was, he knew them all, and could easily tell you everything about them into the smallest detail. As she holds the rock out, he shakes his head. 

Milo: Keep it, make something with it, perhaps something to remember your vacation by? 

He almost said to remember him by, but he corrected himself just in time. 

Beginning - Previous - Next

[hiraethwyl]

Sleep came more readily now it seemed than it had in years. Perhaps he had Death to thank for that. After all, it wouldn’t do for his vessel to be bone tired all the time and the enigmatic spirit seemed to enjoy his sleep and comforts. The Keeper found he dreamed but often they were hard to interpret. Perhaps they weren’t his dreams at all.

Thoughts of dragons and fae and stars long since lost occupied his mind for some time. His companion soul was quiet, choosing not to engage with Lyrin’a’s curious questions. It was odd but not entirely surprising and Lyrin’a eventually lapsed back into thoughtful silence. He found some strange comfort in the fact that though he shared his flesh with the embodiment of death, the dragon was not omnipotent. He couldn’t read the Keeper’s thoughts, nor did he know his memories. Not unless Lyrin’a deigned to share them.

Small miracles.

Shifting a bit where he lay Lyrin’a reached to slide a book off the table by his bed and into his arms. It was a leather bound volume in a muted soft green, thick with gilded lettering. The kind of thing one might find in a well established library perhaps, though this one at least hadn’t come from Marius’s collection. Curling onto his side he cradled the book like a delicate well loved thing, gently turning pages to peer at the beautifully rendered drawings of flowers and plants once native to a place forever changed. Fingertips trailed gently along a picture of a deep red rose shot through with a burst of white. It was terribly bittersweet, to be so close but so far from something you longed to see.

[sourdoughfairy]

There’s a house in my neighborhood that said embrace tulips, fuck grass 🌷 And I love it

[likewarmtea]

treat yourself like you'd treat your best friend