Welcome to the Floret Home! This is a collection of stories I've written on the members of my home, the self-proclaimed Flock. Please feel free to read through!
NOTE -- I am only writing these stories for fun and experimentation. They are not serious literary pieces by me, so I would appreciate any criticism be kept contained. I am perfectly able to evaluate my writing for myself.
Aloft on the boughs of a great maple is where you would find the ever proud Vervain, busy preening his glossy feathers, but still ever watchful of the expanse of the home. As the eldest of the Flock, he views himself as the guardian of the home despite his smaller stature. Sharp eyes the color of pale cider have never faltered in his observations of the perimeter, and he has done well to keep ill company away from the safe embrace of the home's gardens. The younger members regard Vervain with gazes of admiration, although they are wary of his shining talons that grip the maple's wood with subtle strength.
Cluttered near the base of his great home you notice a collection of objects: pumpkins in various shades of green, seed packets of colorful design, and what appears to be a small -- yet growing -- collection of furniture neatly placed in a faux study. Vervain, whom remains primly perched overhead, seems to watch you with an inscrutable expression. It's difficult to distinguish the look between warning, or cautious invitation...
But you cannot deny this -- he has excellent taste in decor.
Vɪᴅᴀʟɪ ➤ Velibolt. adventurer. author. energetic fan of Asteria.
Fleet-footed Vidali. A kind soul with an abundance of energy only a young child can match. She watches the sky with a sense of wonderment, and the nearby forests with a sense of longing only a scout like herself could possess. A leather-bound journal always rests at her side, along with an ink-stained quill.
Is she brave, or simply foolhardy? No matter the opinion, she alone is the most beloved of the Flock; the shining jewel, sparkling with an unending joy and zest for life. Notorious as the bearer of a variety of colorful stories detailing her journeys, her mind runs wild with vivid lines of poetry, and dreams of the impossible made real. It's easy to see the distinct spark of the fantastic captured in her green eyes.
Around a fire she nests, claws spread wide to mimic the ferocity of an angered monster, her beak quirked in a smile as she recounts her tale: "And there I was... face-to-face with the snarling beast, with nothing more than three bladed feathers tucked away. He wanted my hoard, I could tell that by the way his beady eyes latched upon the satchel I wore; but what I had was too important to abandon! I needed to fight. I needed to win. Unfortunately for him, he was now faced with the best marksmen on this side of the Divide. Flit! went my blades, piercing the beast's heels... and down he came, crashing against aged logs and snapping them into two like bones between an Iguroar's teeth..."
Hᴇᴍʟᴏᴄᴋ ➤ Ursufuzz. tea connoisseur. music lover. artist.
The aromas of flora and fruit cling to Hemlock’s fur wherever he wanders. While he does have a generous selection of interests, he is notably passionate about tea and tea culture. Hemlock can always been seen with a cup in his paws, sipping at a freshly steeped tea with caution -- else he might accidentally scald his nose from steam -- while leafing through a music magazine. The Flock lovingly refer to his collection as “The Tea Corner” where Hemlock enjoys brewing a selection of teas for his siblings.
When not consumed with his tea hobby, Hemlock spends his time working as a DJ, a career he quietly loves and tends to keep silent on. Underneath the stage name “Penn”, Hemlock has begun to attend festivals where he plays his music and compilation of mixes to a relatively decent-sized crowd; but with his long-sought after breakthrough into the music world came a rise of fans clamoring over his work. Always nervous and shy, Hemlock has made great strides to keep his identity a secret, even to his new contacts.
The only personal detail he has ever revealed to his fans is that he dreams of one day opening up a teahouse to share his joy with the world, but he doubts it would ever come to fruition unless he retired from music, something he finds he could never do.
Dappled in sunlight, resting upon their side in the greenery of the garden, lays the Finngriff known as Calli. Her wings lay spread, lazily stretched to warm each individual pinion in speckled light. Self-proclaimed the Gardenmaster of the Florets, Calli is well-known for spending much of her time tending to each and every one of the plants that dot the backyard. Every pumpkin grown, every potted plant brought in, and each new flower bed created usually has something to do with the prim and proper gryphon.
Her personality is something to be admired, as some of the Floret members would say. The gryphon prides itself on being quite the well-spoken individual; boisterous, even, in a well-to-do and refined sort of way. Calli enjoys when her presence is felt among her proclaimed siblings. However, unlike much of her siblings, she admittedly loathes to go on trips and finds herself to be quite the homebody. Despite many teasings on even the simplest tasks being “troublesome” and “unworthy of her precious time”, no Floret has ever held that against her. Seeds of all varieties are her favorite gifts, but the occasional gift of new sprouts to raise are her most prized favors.
Calli’s spare time is spent collecting freshly cut flowers from her garden and arranging the stems in ornate floral arrangements. She enjoys selling her art for a bit of spare coin during farmer market days, where she maintains quite the charming, rustic storefront.
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