Buttermilk 1000 Tryout

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Buttermilk 1000 Tryout
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ＵＳＥＲＮＡＭＥ： ｓｐｒｉｇ
ＧＥＮＤＥＲ：ｄｆａｂ
ＮＡＭＥ：ｐｈｒｙｄａ (pre-duh)

ＨＥＸ ＣＯＤＥＳ：

４５５０２Ｂ
７９８２５０
５２１Ｃ１Ａ
９Ｅ５２３７
Ｂ９７１５２
ＤＥＡＣ６４
Ｄ９８８５６
Ｅ０Ｅ０Ｅ０

ＰＲＯＭＰＴ：
The cycle of life and death


Since her creation, Phryda has had a connection to nature and the earth that no one could seem to explain. When she was just an infant, others in her village remarked how there was always a wild creature of some variation following her. Birds, rabbits, mice and even squirrels and badgers were not uncommonly seen trotting in the footsteps of whomever had her strapped to their chest or back. As she grew older, it was often noted how she would babble to the animals, and they would seem to understand in some way. From the day she could walk, Phryda toddled after her tiny friends laughing and smiling while they chittered back as if to play a game with her.

In her culture, children didn't receive a name until they reached a year old. On their first birthday, a ceremony was held and the parents announced the name they had chosen. The purpose was to determine what kind of person their baby had started to become in that first year, and give them a name that would essentially create their destiny and future self. The language spoken in the village was an ancient one, and has since died out. The rough translation of Phryda's name was "she who makes peace".

To Phryda, life and death should both be treated as sacred gifts, in their own way. The gift of life is a precious one, to be brought into a world so innocent and small and to be given the opportunity to learn and make choices on your own. And the gift of death is also in many ways a kindness, as we are given peace and rest.
Unfortunately, life and death are not always gifts such as this. Sometimes, you are born into circumstances that, though beyond your control, are unkind and unfairly difficult. And in the same way, sometimes you die before your time. Wether at the hand of others or perhaps illness, it can be such a hardship for a life to be cut so short.
It seems that Phryda's parents saw something in her in that first year of her life, that caused them to believe she was meant to be maker of peace. And as her life has progressed on, more and more she feels that her place in this world was intended as a vessel to provide a peaceful birth and death to anyone and anything she laid her hands upon.

CREDITS
Potted sprout icon - fabulousgod (da)
Bottled sprout icon - gardenbox (da)
"Phryda" bust - Queen KITTY (cs)

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Phryda has lived alone most of her life. When she was very young, her village was burned to the ground by a neighboring one over something so minuscule it can't be recalled now. Her parents whisked her onto the family's work horse and sent her into the woods - and from that moment on, she was on her own.

Though, we are never truly alone, are we?

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Over the years Phryda has made many friends, but perhaps not the kind you would think of at first. Hetja, a particularly large black crow, found his way to her door with a broken wing. The injury had gone too long without care, thus causing him to be unable to fly. Instead, he was always perched either on Phryda's shoulder, or on the large wooden staff she carried. Feiminn was a caribou abandoned by her herd due to her peculiar markings. Found on the brink of death in a dense portion of the woods surrounding her cottage, Phryda took her in and Feiminn has never left her side since.

Along with her two companions, there is never a lack of animals and creatures following Phryda wherever she goes. It would make for an almost eerie sight - a radiant young woman draped in a dark cloak, a crow perched on her staff and both atop a cervidae with antlers that tower over it's rider. At it's feet toads, rabbits, squirrels and foxes tumble about and perched on it's horns are birds of all types chirping at one another.
And the woman seems to be able to understand all of these creatures.

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Deep in the forest, a cottage lies quiet and still. To the naked eye one might consider it to look vacant and unkempt, perhaps even uninhabitable. Vines grow unruly on the walls, parts of the chimney have crumbled to the ground and into a pile. The front door is draped in shadow, moss and other flora have grown to cover it nearly completely. The knocker seems to have been untouched for years.

Do you dare give it a try?

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Phryda was busy dusting bottles, rearranging herbs and humming softly to herself when a feeble knock came from the door. She set down her rag and opened the door to find a child, who was no more than 7, standing on her front step. In her hands a white rabbit laid limp in a piece of scrap fabric. "Please ma'am," the little boy's voice was shaking. "His foot was caught in a trap. I tried to mend it on my own but..." He trailed off, tears welling in his eyes. Phryda's face softened, and she stepped aside gesturing for him to come in. She cleared a space on the table, and laid down an old towel. The little boy placed the rabbit gingerly onto it, the poor creature barely moved a muscle.
The wound was a gruesome one - The incident must have happened well over a week ago, and infection had set in. Phryda turned and placed her hands on both of the boy's shoulders. She knelt down in front of him, a grave look in her eyes. "I'm afraid there's nothing to be done. Ending his suffering is the kindest thing you could do for him" The boy's lip quivered, and tears began streaming down his cheeks. He tried to hold them back, but they came down regardless. Phryda stood, and moved towards her shelf of various bottles and concoctions. She mixed a few into a bowl, before returning and gently spooning the liquid into the rabbit's mouth. He took a deep breath, sighed, and fell into an eternal sleep. "He was such a kind rabbit..." The boy whispered softly. "He was my only friend."
Hetja, who had been sitting on his perch, hopped onto the table and using his beak gently folded the towel over the rabbit. "Good friend," he squawked. The boy was taken startled, and stumbled a few steps backward. "That-that bird just spoke!" He wailed. Phryda held out her arm to the bird, and he jumped onto it, and side-stepped his way onto her shoulder. "Come along," she said, scooping up the towel carefully, and heading out the door. "Let's give him a proper burial."

She led the boy to a tiny clearing in the trees, at the bottom of some large boulders that made up a part of the mountain's base. There, the sun shone through the trees, and cast dancing shadows on the ground. Flowers grew in the cracks of the rocks that littered the ground, and moss and vines were creeping their way up the nearby trees. Phryda knelt down, pulling a small spade from her satchel, and started digging a hole. The little boy looked on, still unsettled but curious. "What's your name?" She asked, as she neared the end of her digging. "Hugo," the boy said. The woman sat back on her ankles, and gestured for the boy to come closer. "Did this kind rabbit have a name?" "Kani," he said softly, kneeling down beside her.
Phryda gently placed the wrapped towel into the hole, and started to push the displaced dirt over it. "Thank you, Kani, for being a good and gentle friend to Hugo. You brought him much joy and happiness, and I hope you find peace here." Hugo's eyes filled with tears again as he aided in pushing the dirt. "Good bye Kani,"

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In the midst of a particularly bleak winter, it is not uncommon for animals and creatures to find themselves without food or shelter. Often they may meet their demise under such difficult circumstances. But in the forest surrounding the mountain, it seems these animals have found solace in a young soul who strives to create a warm, dry place for any who finds themselves in need of respite.

Including, perhaps, a little human boy.

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The days were lengthening, and the wind brought the familiar chill of winter. Phryda pulled her shawl closer around her neck as she gazed at the horizon. The fiery red sky of evening cast long shadows on the forest floor. "Come now, lets go inside," she called. 3 rabbits, 2 mice, and a sparrow with a broken wind quickly skittered their way around her feet and into the warm cottage, where they dispersed to their own beds in various nooks and crannies about the room. Phryda kicked off her boots, and had just settled into her rocking chair to mend her winter coat when the door burst open. Hugo tumbled in, and closed the door as quickly as he had opened it. "Good evening, Phryda!" his voice was full of excitement. "I was out walking and I found the prettiest little stone, I just had to bring it to Hetja." Out of his pocket he pulled a shiny stone. A pebble really, but Hetja was ecstatic. He hopped down from his perch and up onto Hugo's shoulder. "Pretty rock, pretty rock!" he sang, taking it into his mouth and bobbing up and down. Though the bird towered over the little boy, Hugo had grown quite used to Hetja perching on his shoulder. They had become fast friends in the months since he first showed up on the doorstep. Phryda smiled. "Well done, Hugo. Will you stay for supper?" She stood and walked to the large kettle simmering on the fire. It smelled rich and hearty, the vapors filled the room and danced into Hugo's nostrils. His face melted. "Are you certain theres enough?" He asked sheepishly. It was not uncommon for Phryda to go hungry herself for the sake of other's full bellies, but she smiled softly at him. "I made it with you in mind, I had a feeling you would be popping in," She had become accustomed now to Hugo's presence. More days than not, he was in and out of the cottage, and she grew more fond of him the more time passed. He was helpful, too, and a quick learner. She could ask for a specific herb or plant and send him out, and he would return with exactly her request.

As Hugo spent more and more time in the cottage and the surrounding woods, something began to feel off about his presence in the recent days. He would leave when it was nearly dark, carrying his tiny lantern before himself and return just as the sun was breaking over the mountains.
There he knelt before her, sifting through bundles of various plants and flowers, testing his knowledge on their names and purposes. "Hugo," Phryda said abruptly, surprising even herself. He turned, and she searched his eyes for a sign that something might be wrong. "I know that you aren't gone from here long enough to go home, only to come back again so early in the morning." Hugo's face filled with fear, and his cheeks flushed. "I'm-yes I am. Its not a far walk," he mumbled. She sat in the dirt in front of him and pulled his hands into hers. "Did something happen?" He blinked back tears. "I went home one day, and my family was gone. Nothing was left. They thought you possessed me and they were certain something terrible would happen so they... They left." Hugo burst into tears and fell forward into Phryda's lap. She stroked his hair and shushed him gently. "Its lucky you have a home here, then." He bolted upright. "You mean... I can stay?" At that moment, Hetja hobbled over to the pair and Hugo scooped him up. "I get to stay forever, Hejta!" He squealed, spinning in circles with the bird held tightly in his arms. "Stay forever, Hejta!"

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No good thing can last forever. Life runs its course, and so must death. They are one, and you cannot find them without the other. The river finds its waterfall, the connection between above and below.

As a thread spun from the sheep's wool, it too must have a beginning and end.

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Over the many years that followed, Hugo and Phryda lived peacefully and happily together. Many creatures came and went through their home, arriving often battered and broken but leaving healed and prepared for a better life. Few humans found their way there, but any who did received such grace and kindness from the pair.
Hugo seemed to share in Phryda's gift for healing and peace, and as a team they were able to cure most any ailment. Though there was one illness that neither of them had the power or ability to prevent or reverse. The years were kind to Phryda's mind, but her body was only mortal and there came a time she found she was unable to complete some of the tasks she was once able. Age was not cruel, but she felt it's presence drawing nearer with each passing day.

"Phryda," Hugo's voice which was now one of a man, broke through the darkness. Phyrda's eyes fluttered open. She felt a pain in her entire body that seemed to have crept in overnight. "Its time for your medicine." He spoke softly to her. It had been nearly 45 years since the day he appeared on her doorstep, and she had cared for him as a mother for all this time. He didn't know how old Phryda was when he came to her, but the frailty of her body lead to the conclusion that she had not been as young as he had thought all those years ago. "I think... It's time." Phryda placed her hand on Hugo's. "I'm tired, Hugo," she whispered gently. Tears welled in his eyes. "I know but I- I don't know how to be without you." She smiled. "I have so much faith in you. You have done so well, have been so kind. You have learned and loved, and given peace to even the smallest of church mice." As the tears spilled down his face, Hugo squeezed her hand tightly. "I'm not ready." Phryda smiled again, and her eyes closed. "I know that you'll be alright," her breathing grew shallow, before she sighed deeply and was still.

Hugo buried her near Feiminn and Hetja, her most beloved animals who had passed on many years before. He marked her place with a headstone which read "She who made peace".