#faeriesong

A Portrait of Spring and her Light (circa ○●○)

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Two Guardians never looked more graceful together. A flower, and a ray of sun? Might as well be photosynthesis~

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Seasonal Records: Pure Vanilla Cookie

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The Sunlit Orchid Kingdom heralds itself as a nation of great prestige, built around an orchid-like beacon of light from where the purest essence of Solar Magic is drawn. Naturally, such respect is earned and not gained, and in its existence, the humble gold leaf-lined domain tends to the institutions it had established and promises only the finest excerpts of knowledge on Celestial magic and its synonymous disciplines their scholarship could provide. The faeries of its palace make it a point to choose someone worthy of keeping this image, and so, when a cookie like Pure Vanilla was chosen to take the throne, all eyes were locked not on his distinguished presentation, but the warmth emanating within.

Indeed, his benevolence stood out more than anything the court had seen. To the common denizen it was a welcoming sight, but to the scholars and the dignified, a leader this crude and plainspoken could be met with immediate contention. Nevertheless, the ever-unassuming Mediary saw no matter in it. He can only hold close the little speck of light on his palms: seedling-shaped and warm to the touch, imbued with the promises and whispers of a prosperous daybreak. Pure Vanilla knows very well the tomorrow this can entail so long as he vows to live his inscribed truth. Though, the question still lingers, and one not even he himself can discern. When the time comes, will he ever well up the courage and insight to face it?

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Seasonal Records: White Lily Cookie

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Some say it is in their kismet, while others believe it otherwise. What was never written on paper are gossip to those under the guise of the forest's providence. Whatever it is, there exists entries of knowledge in this realm locked behind secrets never to be spoken of. Secrets relayed not on paper, but through a steady stream of magic: Silverlight, an element untouched by all, but gazed upon by those defined by their curiosity.

Born under a moonlit night from a fragrant lily, White Lily had sought towards these mysteries for as long as she can remember. Once a small, fragile bud, she dreamed nothing more but to seek out these answers herself. As the Moonflower Shrine's venerable Priestess and a High Sage of the Silver Kingdom, she devotes her position to unraveling what fragments of knowledge she's granted through various means, whether it be from the writings in the palace archives or readings on Silverlight magic itself. And yet, such questions cannot be left with even a sliver of mystique. Deep inside, Spring's free-spirited visage is ever reflective of hers. A longing for the unknown so profound, but far beyond her reach.

When fate weighed on her ordainment as the Spring Court's Guardian, shall the time come for it all to collapse under her? Had she never taken that path, could the petals plucked away from her soul ever relish in their efflorescence? Or shall they carried by the gust forevermore, whispering echoes of a shattered past?

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Prelude to Creation

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A song does not have to be sung for it to be heard. It can relish in its existence, so long as the notes that it was built upon have been strung together and written into material and immaterial concepts. Everything in this world, including the seasons and life itself, were created out of the flow of a musical score. The end of a song marks the beginning of another, and from the death of a plant is a new one in its place.

All songs will be created and rewritten, and as they do, they begin as they always did: with a single chime. Such is the unlikely unison of a sugar butterfly and a lone silver flower, and from there, the silverlit seeds from which the stories of the fae and the forest shall arise.

“Inscribed with precious ink on scrolls from times of yore, from here shall truths and secrets intertwine: a symphony penned by time, fate, and fae.”

— Faeriesong: Ballads of a Forgotten Forest (?th Edition). Page and stanza undetermined

↓↓ Table of Contents ↓↓

Gather around me

A ring of broken lovers

Who yearned for love

And were never enough?

 The broken hearted

Whose blood runs warm

Gather around me

And let us sing a love song

 Of a boy and a girl

The eternal tale

Of secret meetings in lover’s spots

Of covert glances at an evening ball

 A secret waltz in the observatory

A scandalous kiss in the library

Of breathless words spoken in a rush

And the duties weighing heavily on us

 Of forgotten lovers in the attic of your mind

Spin around me oh broken folk

And someday we’ll regain our souls

Spin around me oh lovers of yore