#flourence

hey gng I'm making a Roblox game wow

Looking at her now-- flourence might need a bit more tweaking.. not by a lot but just a little!! I still love her though

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One of my favorite places on earth 

Florence, Italy, Daniel Ibanez

27. Trees with Ties (chapter 4 - Crown of Quartz Roses 5/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

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           Mid mourning, after watering and gathering in the forest, Castor compiled the last three days of developed photos. Next to his now heavily adorned shelter, Castor had built a workshop. He made potions, new spells, and a myriad of wonderous objects; Which all turned light into anything. One camera was not magic however; It was a remastered camera. It was the old kind, that rolls out the picture you just took, on a glazed card stock, and developed before your eyes. Castor had given it special ink and film, to make the photos indestructible and professionally printed. These photos were how he journaled.

All mages journal; To share their adventures and knowledge with the next generation. Half of Castor’s journals were textbooks: spells, material magic frequencies, enchanted tool details, elixir recipes, and so on. The other half of his journals were personal. Unlike many mages, who paint in their journals with a wall of text, his was like a scrap book. Each photo taped, pined, or glued into a big leather album. Enchanted to never wear with time. Each picture had one sentence describing it; Maybe three. Every three days, he added to it. Florence found herself obsessed, as she looked through the album when Castor was busy. His photos made even the mundane look ethereal.

           Fey cannot read or write. Fairies can learn to, but in general magic itself will not comprehend the meaning of ink symbols, neatly organized on a surface. This form of human communication was odd; Why do they document life, instead of living it? Castor lived alone; who would be reading his personal journals? In fact, the Tree Kingdom had a particular gripe with the literary arts. Not only did it require wood to make paper, but as a sedentary sentient entity, the tree children were content staying quiet and watching the world. They lacked imagination. If they wanted to communicate, they would whisper to their siblings, of the forest, or talk to a passing human. The idea of sending text miles away, to someone so distant, seemed like a waste of time. Florence, was of this mindset.

“Castor, what’s the point of writing?” Florence asked, watching Castor write new spells in a textbook.

“I was told mages are supposed too. Maybe some day, a kid will find this scrapbook, and think it’s neat; I don’t know. The manuals are for helping wizards, though. But I need to get them to wizards,” Castor groaned. “The locals I approach to distribute these books, look at me funny.”

“Why do they look at you like that?”

“Because I’m three-quarter cream; That was my name in school. It’s a play on how Fancian’s are known for their extreme pallor,” Castor laughed. Florence’s crown swayed in the winds of silence. “I don’t look like I was born here, but my last name say’s otherwise; No one knows my family history, and it makes them think too hard. Like I’m a puzzle to be solved.”

“Oh. Well, maybe tell them so they understand? If they like reading your books, they may like your other tales,” Florence said. “Wait, if reading and writing is a way humans communicate, and you want to communicate with your family without leaving, why don’t you write for them? The village could send them to your parents. You could attach pictures as well!” she chimed. Castor stared at the gluey moist scrapbook on his lap in surprise: Why didn’t he think about writing letters to my parents? What kind of son am I? Castor cringed.

           The next week, Castor went around taking pictures, writing letters, and making new gear for Pollux. He made new silver guards with chains; To make noise and enhance her Wolf Kingdom enchantments. If Pollux absorbed enough sound, she could summon blue lightening with or without the thunder musket he made her. Then Castor thought of something better to make her; a rainstick. He saw this musical instrument in the compound. They made a lot of noise, but the soothing kind. Unlike Pollux’s thunder rod, which she snaped to make a metallic booming warble. That thing was children’s crafts to Castor, who was now a grown and effective Warlock. He made the new tool for his sister out of winter silver, for better elemental alchemy; Then engraved it with sound spells. Before capping it off, he made pills of singing crystal, for the best possible resonance.

“Florence, what do you think!” Castor said, holding the stick to her trunk. The well glugged as it emptied. “It’s for my sister Pollux, remember? She’s on a paladin apprenticeship up in North Moon! On the other side of the world…” he waned

“Well, it is quite a noise maker.” Florence giggled. “Why would she need such a magic instrument?”

“You know how I absorb light to make illusions with my staff, or objects with my cameras? Pollux does the same, but with sound. Though she is destructive instead of creative. I prefer to use my talents to give, like you. But Pollux can turn an accumulation of silenced footsteps, into a finger snap that can disintegrate distant walls, or shoot lightening that can shatter a whole building.”

“You want her doing that? Paladins are guardians of magic, not abusers of it; What in the two veils, would need to be struck by lightening?” Florence gasped. The thought of violence, nearly stopped her fragile heart. Like her mother, the thought of brutality, nearly made her weep.

“Wizards; And not the nice ones we have here. In some places, they like to kill and abuse fey or mages. Some become corrupt by fear and power; Right after spending years studying it out of genuine adoration. It’s stupid. However, it’s not my problem anymore, as this place is calm, and no one has a desire to commit such crimes.” Castor explained. He began wrapping the rain stick in linen, then realized he forgot to attach a picture with his letter.

“Shoot, I wanted to attach a photo. My family knows I’m obsessed with photography. Pollux would steal my pictures, and show them off at school to embarrass me; But it was n arts school!”

“How about a kiss? Give me a kiss for a photo, and show it off so your family knows you’ve seen a Terralith Tree! Pollux would love to see you happy!” Florence chimed. She was mostly joking. Then Castor snorted, and began to set up his tripod, and his timed old-fashioned camera.

“I don’t know what I would ever do without you, Florence. You give me so much, and yet keep giving.”

Lovingly wrapped and stamped, Castor hauled his mail to the village. Florence turned into her human form, and went with him. This time, more people looked at her then him. Castor was so happy to send his letters, that he didn’t notice how quiet everyone was. They were always helping each other’s children, crafting, and cooking together. Laughing, and among friends in lively conversation. Not today. Today everything was silent. Castor handed his parcels to the runner, so they could be sent on the noon train to their varying destinations. The security woman, looked at the stamps, and custom statements; Then noticed their destinations.

“That’s a good long way for a package to travel. This here rainstick is going to go across the continent; You have family that far away, son?” She asked. Castor smiled. As did Florence.

“Um, Master Radcyning, mage sir. um, you got a fey following you…”

“I’m aware.” Castor shrugged. “Can you send the packages?”

“Yeah. But what is that? She looks like the painting we have of the Tree King, back in the city.”

“Yes; Florence is a Terralith tree. Royal fey can take human form like their parents.” Castor said casually. He was getting frustrated; He just wanted to send some packages.

“No, I mean, she’s way taller, and glittery, then one of those regular royal birches; I saw one when I was a girl ya’ know.”

“But the packages?” Castor growled. After a groan, Castor went to look at what was distracting the village. Folk from magic forests tend to be very comfortable with fey. Fey sneak into their dwellings often; Drinking from wells, and stealing bread. It would take a truly unique and radiant sight, to cause such people to take a second glance.

Florence was now defiantly worth the second glance. She was now as tall as Castor, and looked more grown. Her crown of flowers was fuller, and shone in more hues. Even her robes had more layers of patterned pastel silks, and her crop coat and belt bore more pleats and beads. She looked like the most magical thing in the world. Castor saw her everyday, and thus failed to notice she had changed. There is a point when familiar people, stop having appearances and are only their personalities.

“I’ll get these packages off in an hour; Thanks for the tip.” The security woman said. Castor followed Florence slowly, as they held hands and walked back to the thicket. Once he noticed her new beauty, he couldn’t look away; Castor couldn’t believe a Terralith Tree could be even more enchanting.

“I understand that feeling of being watched you talk about.” Florence said.

“I think everyone was staring for a different reason. You look more ethereal, extra, or dazzling, some how.” Castor said, failing to find the right words to describe her. His heart was beating hard in his chest, while gently holding her hand and seeing her smile. Florence was greatly amused.

“How about some water? I would love to take root after an adventure; it gets hot at noon.”

“Right, right.” Castor said, going to the well. Then the earth rocked, the bon fire shattered, and the trees moved back from the camp. Castor stopped singing water into the well, and turned around to see Florence was twice the tree. That must be some sort of love I make the water with. Castor thought. He nearly fell into the well. Actually, I may need to make more of that water with more love if she’s grown so big. He pondered. After the surprise wore off, the camp was fixed, Florence was complimented by her little siblings that made up the forest. Castor was so overwhelmed, he needed a drink himself. Florence dropped coconuts from her tall branches for him. All of which Castor managed to catch.

Florence had become a massive opalescent dendron; About eight stories high, taller than the surrounding woods. Before, Florence was a pleasant ten-foot-tall birch and not a mighty white oak. Her flowered crown of pinks, now refracted many colours; As if each leaf and petal was made of pink diamond. The shadow beneath her bower, was rosey and eerily lit in an array of hues. The light he absorbed from it was radient, and filled him with calm and warmth.

Castor had no clue why he was so happy, or what caused Florence to grow beyond his wildest dreams. It only occurred to him, as he was falling asleep, holding her in human form. Even tree fey fall asleep when there is no more sun to soak. Sometimes, given the choice, royal fey will sleep in their human forms. With golden blood, heart beats, and warmth; more human then fey. It was in this moment, Castor looked at Florence, and thought: I love you. Castor had requited the love of tree child. Ther is no better mage then one of light, to be the next Tree Queen. And nothing was like being next to his his crowned princess. Mythical tales of love are common here, but having it happen so slowly it catches one off guard, is equally normal. No politics were in his drifting consciousness, nor trauma or fear; Only the joy of being happy he had said yes to adventure.

Two weeks later, there was growling in the trees. They were yelling and trying to wake Castor. Florence was woken first, and tried to nudge him up. She now slept next to him as a lady, and not as a tree near the well. She had trouble finding clearings to take root, and discovered human beds, warmed by human men, are cozier than the beds of earth. Florence gave one last push, and Castor finally awoke. There was shuffling about Castor’s workshop. He grabbed his sun staff, and tumbled out of his shelter, nearly snared in his bead doorway; Before staggering haphazardly to his workshop.

“Who’s there? Why couldn’t you wait till I went into town yesterday? I’m the mage of this forest, state your business!” Castor slurred in his groggy state. He was not yet fully alert. He pulled the shed curtain aside, and fell into the workshop, face first. To his surprise, the invader went to lay face down next to him.

“Cassie, you didn’t invite me to the wedding. I’m mad Cassie.” A familiar voice chuckled. Castor reached over and pushed Pollux’s cackling grin into the workshop floor; It smelled like paint and charcoal. Pollux’s familiar Iliad, a silver fox, then sat on casters head.

“Who needs a wedding, when a camera can witness a true love’s spell,” Castor joked. “How did you even get here?” Castor said pushing Pollux away. They began a friendly battle of sibling scuffling, when Florence poked her head into the dim shop to say hello. She grabbed Pollux and hugged her with an iron grip.

“North Moon is the magic forest of the Wolf Gate. Queen Flowen had opened it because the previous Wolf King died; Don’t worry his eldest son found true love. Wizards did it, and learned the value of magic. I mostly just run around, stopping ice pixies from freezing generators.” Pollux said. She was hugging and patting Florence’s back.

“Mom and dad, are going to be so proud of us; Reuniting after they struggled to rip us apart. Now we’ve also started shooting lightening, and wedding trees.” Castor laughed. Pollux took a deep breath, while absorbing the warmth of her brothers familiar and comforting embrace, one Flourence had let her free. They were laughing. That boy Castor thought had died, and was smothered by years of torment, was finally revived. Pollux, wither her bite put to good use, seemed nearly tamed.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m happy I left home. I will be back some day, and I’m sad I let my dreams die.” Castor said, holding his sister and Florence close.

TABLE OF CONTENTS--->

Florence in human form; Nothing more endearing, then the glittering dew of a wild rose.

27. Trees with Ties (chapter 4 - Missing Moon Light 4/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

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           Castor had never been so enchanted; The tree of his childhood dream, had caught more then just his eye.

“Hi I’m Castor Radcyning! Can I take a picture of you?” He blurted. Florence smiled and walked into the clearing, and went into a bent pose. She swirled into a small tree of pearl bark and glittering blush foliage. Florence was as adorable of a tree, as she was a young lady. Castor flushed in excitement. Over come with awe, he impulsively pulled out his alchemy camera. However, unlike a normal camera, the alchemy camera was not for pictures. Without a magic frequency pre-set, and being unable to recreate animate things, the camera broke. Castor looked down in despair at his favourite invention, as it sparked, fizzled, then smoked.

“No…My Cam- wait this isn’t my poloid…” Castor gasped. “It’s going to take a forever to fix this enchanted camera.” Castor groaned. He slumped down to the ground in anger, and saw the basket of masks. Then he looked at all the tree children, who parted to a small camp. It was old, but maintained by fairies. Then Castor returned his gaze to Florence.

“I can fix the camera tomorrow, I guess. Can you help me adorn your little siblings before I make camp?” Castor asked. Florence swirled back into human form, and ran over to him nodding enthusiastically; She even got close enough to smell him. Florence had no clue why that felt so important. Castor didn’t notice; He was enchanted by her glimmering crown. There is no fey more radiant to me, he thought. Why she smells of every rose that ever bloomed.

           The next day, Florence was there to wake Castor; She had planted herself in the camp clearing, over a well. Castor got out of the wooden shelter slowly, and went to hug her.

“Good mourning.” He said half asleep. Florence just giggled. Castor looked into the well, and noticed it was dry. Without thinking he sang clean water into it, and then stared into an empty pan over a firepit. He lit it with warmth fire, as to be considerate of the dry foliage. A starlit jackal had brought him kindle from the village at night; It was now sleeping under the shack. The fey were happy to have a mage, and found it no hassle to help him. Not that they needed someone to balance their forest with mankind, just that it was nice to have human company for once. Castor asked for fruit from Florence, who gladly dropped some into the empty mask basket by her trunk. While eating, Castor began to work on his magic camera. Florence had been sweetly swaying and humming to him; Only fueling his dreamlike state. Her leaves softly blew, and curiously chimed as they clinked in the wind. Castor looked at her every ten minutes; The sight never got old. He didn’t want a picture anymore; He wanted to see her every dawn.

As Castor got up for a stroll, he heard a large glug from the well, and peered in; The well full of enchanted water, was now empty.

“I could have sworn I just refilled that.” Castor murmured.

“You did. It just irrigates the whole forest, and it needs to be refilled three times a day. I must admit I’ve been really thirsty since I met you; I must have drunk the lions share… Your magic water contains a type of love that is different from fathers.” Florence said. That sounded a little creepy to Castor. He used his light staph to turn sunshine into more water, and filled the well before going about his day. Castor started gathering crafting materials and food, while arranging the camp into a home and workshop. With fey by his side, Castor found he had everything he needed.

Weeks had gone by, before Castor remembered a world outside The Tree Gate existed. Being a grumpy magic crafter alone in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, was a lot better than he thought. Yet, Castor regretted discounting his father, and missed him. Castor missed his whole family. He missed Pollux.

“Castor, you’re wilting like a daisy. Do you need water? That’s what my father used to give us to make us stand tall again.” Florence said. Castor was slouched at her roots. She had failed to notice that humans need more then water to survive.

“I miss my family. Being here is better than I thought, but now I want to go back and visit them; But I also don’t want to leave you. The Gate is right there. I can use it to travel through the ether, and go through the Rat Gate by Fort de Lapin. I bet they’d be happy to hear all about this place.”

“If you use the Shadow Veil, you’ll go into my mother’s kingdom; And maybe see her and my father. It’s the most colourful place in the shadow veil; because it’s entirely covered in my siblings, and fey are magic, and only that can touch human senses there. According to father, anyway. What’s your home like?”

“Not colourful. Actually, it’s a dusty trailer park sandwiched between a magic forest, and a run down town. Has all the old timey Francian architecture. I don’t miss it, just the people I loved there. That place is stained now; All I think about, is how much pain I felt after my sister died. How I feel inadequate to protect things. Like this magic forest, and you, and my remaining sister,” Castor sighed. “But Pollux is a strong grown paladin, and I should just trust she’s ok. I just can’t trust the world after my family lost everything.”

“That’s sad.” Florence said. She turned into her human form, much shorter than Castor, and hugged him from behind. Her rosy crown, glittering in Castor’s periphery; as the waft of the sent of every existing flower came off her.

“I think your adequate here; I feel I don’t want you to go either. It’s like I need you, and I don’t want you to be sad. I’m so confused; I’m a tree, and fey. I’m not supposed to feel like that. Having want, and hoarding a human’s company.” Florence continued. She had began crying and shaking. She really didn’t want to let Castor go; Figuratively and literally. She was infatuated.

Tree children never fall for the charms of humans, who have trouble requiting a plant’s affections. Never mind Terralith Trees, who as royal fey; They can only become infatuated with mages. Because Florence’s siblings can’t return a true love’s kiss, or comprehend human needs, she assumed she was the same. Even if she was half human, and thus had a perfectly human form like her father.

“Alright. I won’t go,” Castor said, holding Florence closer. “I’ll find another way to connect to my family. I doubt I can think of anything other then my sisters till then. You help though, Florence. You make my heart continue to beat.” Castor said. Florence nuzzled into his chest, wetting him with her tears. It pained him to see her so wilted, and Castor wanted to hold and comfort her further. It reminded him of when Pollux gave him that feeling. How many times he must have done the same for his sister, and how pleasant it is to do it for another.

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27. Trees with Ties (chapter 3 - Please Give Us Faces 3/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

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The Trains in the Southlands are unlike anything else. Each nation has its own style of trolly, but they share the same international tracks. It is the primary way to travel in every land. One takes their national line to a boarder station, then can switch to another international line from there. Perceived as a luxurious, yet also a reliable and ubiquitous. Everyone takes the trains. Trucks are for post services and trades folk; But the trains, they are for the people. Even the uniforms of the conductors, attendants, concession carts, security, tills, and tickets persons have a uniform unique to each nation. The trains in The North Central of Francia, were carpeted and pastel paneled; each with open booths, that sat four people like a picnic bench. Each car was always in perfect condition, and well maintained. But once at a massive boarder hub, chaos ensues. The largest hub was in the Grand West, but the strictest were at the boarders of the Southlands of Bantia.

           To get into the Southlands, one must first pass it’s strict security. Frisk to magnetic scans; No foreign substances, diseases, or animals were allowed. This meant everyone inside was safe at night, people didn’t enter often, and personal space was not recognized. Luckily, Castor passed security with ease.

The trains had long benches forcing everyone to face each other. Every inch was vandalized and vibrant. Metal racks above each seat, precariously held bags, baskets, and children. Everyone wrapped in vibrant cornflower painted fabrics, calmly minding their own business. Some of them had braids in interesting colours, with coins and ribbons; just like Castor’s dad. He couldn’t help but take it all in. Out the windows, he could see the landscape changed from rocky foothills, to open savannah and dry bushland. Overall, Castor found himself experiencing some semblance of joy and comfort. Until he arrived at his destination.

           The train passed normal towns, savannah littered with large unique flora and fauna, and everything seemed normal; But the aptly name Forest of Masks, was an archaic village. Magic forests had that effect on people. The magic weeded out people who were scared of fey, and wanted urban technology. Castor’s destination was thus a round compound, painted with layers of white, red, and black handprints. Every round arched door, facing south east in a strategic and unsettling tradition. The people even gathered, farmed, clothed, danced, and cooked, in the ways of old. They loved their lives; Living several yards away from a stand of trees that stood out against the flat empty landscape.

It was like home, but without grass. Endless hot dry nothing; And then suddenly, a very conspicuous whispering bluff. The leaf litter seeming to ruffle, and laughter came from the canopy. Without hesitation, Castor walked the narrow trail from the compound, to the edge of the magic forest.

“A real mage at last!” The fey quietly cheered, in a language of old. Unsettled, Castor calmly looked back at the village. The people were gathered by it’s walls, shaking their heads.

“Don’t go in!” some of them said in his fathers first tonged. But there was no way, Castor was not entering the creepy pocket of trees, after coming all this way.

“It’s fine I’m the mage!” Castor yelled back, showing off his fairy robes, and magic staph. The village folk whispered among themselves, leering at him.  Agreeing Castor was telling the truth, and would be safe, they all returned to their relaxing day, leaving Castor completely alone before the hoard of tall sentient dendrons.

           Inside the forest, there were narrow trails that warped as Castor tread upon them; the forest was bigger within. The small stand secretly contained a vast inner garden of fey, stuck in eternal autumn.

“Hello; Do any of you know if there is an abandoned shelter here? Where is the gate so I can open it?” Castor spoke into the brush.

“Give me my face, and I’ll tell, you tall and handsome mage.” A pink barked howler said. It was really close to his ear. at her roots, was an old wooden mask, painted with an eerie face. Castor alchemized ribbon, and tied the mask to the tree. The hallow expressionless mask, staring into his soul. He thought there was no way this forest could become more cursed, and had never been so upset to be proven wrong.

“Follow me!” the tree chimed. Castor started laughing compulsively; He was too tiered to seriously comprehend a tree getting up like a lady, lifting a skirt, and leading him off yonder.

“Tomorrow you can put faces on all of my siblings in the forest! The Tree Gate is right over there in the clearing. If you open it, we can see mother, father, and maybe one of our big brothers and sisters!” The tree continued. Castor looked over his shoulder again, and suddenly saw a clearing with the smooth sandstone platform of the gate; With nine small obliques with runes, and steps on its south-east edge.

“Is this forest mostly tree children? Are you all warping the paths and terrain around, like a living maze?” Castor asked. No answer. Castor walked up to the Tree Gate, and went dark by absorbing the sunlight of the clearing, and allowing magic to flow through him from the Shadow Veil. Thus, thinning the veils, and opening the gate. Then he proceeded to feint into the leaf litter. When he came to, he proceeded to go back to sleeping in the shady brush, avoiding the Southland heat.

           When castor awoke, there was a basket of masks next too him, as well as a fair girl in traditional Bantian dress. She looked like an albino local, but adorned with a crown of pink crystalline flowers; That matched her eyes and robes. Castor had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Hello, I’m princess Flaurencon. I was wandering my mother’s kingdom in the shadow veil, when I saw the gate was glowing. Father says that’s how you know a gate is open. Mother said there are mages returning to the Day Veil, so I couldn’t resist the chance to see one! I’m the youngest princess too; So this is my first time to the Day Veil.” Flaurencon said, unable to stop looking at Castors glow. He returned the same enchanted gaze. A real Terralith Tree, in human form, was before Castor; And she was grander than his wildest dreams.

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