[cocogerber13]

username: cocogerber13
envoy name: Achilles
flowers: (400 words max or 1 drawing) Achilles uses his flowers for aroma-therapy, to bring healing to those with both illness and heavy hearts. He will use them for strange, one-of-a-kind perfumes, candles, bookmarks, and even just the flowers he gives as gifts to those he feels needs them the most in that moment. They are said to actually cure some, and even to have an extent of magic effects, however none of these rumours actually reach ears.

Originally he had cast away the beauty of flowers and their nature, turning more towards the roaring of waterfalls and storms for the lively water and fish they brought along. Achilles worked hard to become strong, resistant, and one that others could always count on to hold them up. This changed one day, however, as he was training his reflexes in the forest and landed on some jagged rocks as he fell. He had deep wounds and scrapes on the left side of his chest and fear for himself flooded his thoughts, only to be calmed by the strong scent of the flowers he hadn’t noticed he had fallen in front of. It stilled his worries and gave him strength to clean and dress the injuries. It was at that time he swore a new, silently promised passion to help others in a way that may have not been as obvious as the way he had thought originally.

(229 words, I hope to add more if my WiFi allows me TvT)

[geto]

username: BlurryRoses
envoy name: Hugo
flowers: res as wanderer,,

[dilly.]

username: dilly.
envoy name: Tamren
flowers:

the undergrowth crackles, twigs snapping and leaves rustling. the envoy leans over a bush, the long stemmed roses tilting faces up towards them as if in the presence of the sun. a smile tugs at their lips as they carefully brush a finger over the petal of the closest rose. the colour leeches out instantly, drawing together to form a brilliant red orb hovering in the palm of their hands. they hum to themself, eyes drifting close. this will do, yes.

tamren places as many roses as the bush would give into their bag, the stems splitting away with the barest tug. they murmur a thanks as they leave, and the forest sighs its goodbye behind them.

later, tam burns the stems. it makes a merry fire, eagerly burning until all that is left is ashes and dust. the leaves will be grounded into pulp, shaped with gentle hands until flat and smooth. the colour is drained from the petals and left in separate bowls, the red glimmering darkly in the light of the fire.

they watch and listen. in the smoke of the fire, the roses find their voice at last. stories bubble up, the flowers eager to tell what they have seen and what they have heard. it was a chance to speak, and speak they did. tamren tugs a feather loose from their headwings, and carefully starts penning the stories on paper made of leaves and ink made of petals.

the forest has many stories to tell, and tamren listens to them all. they are written down and kept, a chronicle of history.

[kanadensis]

username: kanadensis
envoy name: Senna
flowers: [400 words]
Senna carefully pinched the stem of the crimson rose, plucking it deftly before twirling it between his green-stained fingers.
“My my, you’ve really outdone yourself today Lady Belamere.”
The flower was tucked into the wicker basket at the envoy’s hip, joining those from earlier in the day. A small smile crossed his lips as he lifted his finger to inspect the blood that beaded at its tip before wiping it away. “But vengeful as always.”
Senna’s basket continued to swell as he trudged through the overgrown thicket that blanketed the graveyard. It was a sight to behold - rows on rows of graves, some crumbling but most well-kept, surrounded by groves of flowers. Each grave produced its own variety, chosen not by the gardener’s seeds but rather by some otherworldly magic, presumably to reflect its patron’s personality - or so Senna believed. He had been the keeper of this graveyard for centuries; it had begun a small patch behind the stone chapel that still stood at its center, but with each new addition it grew. The grave sites now spiraled around the chapel, paths zigzagging their way through the levels and around ancient trees that loomed over wary visitors. Only Senna knew his way well enough around this place, and most visitors would become lost to the overgrowth if it were not for him. Not that there were many visitors in the first place - he would often go months without seeing a living soul, and those times were usually filled with sorrow. Thick forests had long separated the graveyard from the closest town, and Senna never ventured far from his post. The chapel - which had also long been abandoned - was his home. He was responsible for its upkeep as well as the maintenance of the graves and gardens. If you were to ask him what he liked most about his vocation, he would tell you that the flowers took up most of his focus - and that his more affluent patrons were the neediest. If allowed he could go on for hours about each and every one of them...
“I’d say Lord Lawrence produces the heartiest stems so he takes the longest to prune, though from what I’ve heard he was quite stubborn in his previous life as well. Miss Adella Adler however, oh she makes the prettiest lilies! But she’ll only bloom if the weather is just right, and she loves sunshine…”

[.Foxtrot.]

username: .Foxtrot.
envoy name: Khloris
flowers: Khloris is the local florist, though he is renowned for creating more than just bouquets, one of his favourites is the rose collars for the local farmer’s herd of deer.

[persona]

username: persona
envoy name: Eve
flowers: The creatures of the forest are something akin to friends with Eve, and he treats them with gifts. They're monetary-less to the animals but he shows his gratitude to them through homegrown flowers. He puts his love, respect, and patience into growing them for his buddies and expects nothing in return. Having woodland animals in your home means you're never alone; might as well as befriend them.

[rabbit...]

username: rabbit448
envoy name: Cyril
flowers:
Before Calamity, ethereal creatures sprung up from the hearts of mortals. Wings that fluttered alive when young admirers exchanged bashful glances; The roar of love at first sight when a mother looks to her child; The encroaching snare of passion between rekindled fires. These creatures roamed wild and free, with boughs of blooms displayed on their pelts for all envoys to see. Then Calamity attacked.

Love metamorphosed into fear, and where the power to love was only privy to the strong. His love for mortals sprung for a place of weakness. Cyril's dying human heart gave rise to a stag with antlers that seem to encompass the world. When he came to consciousness as an envoy, a rain of rose petals welcomed him home. He knew that the powerless deserve love too.

This was the Hunt for Love. Cyril's naive desire to Hunt for love before they are devoured by strife. He bundles up these rare treasures and showers them with attention so they may grow as they once did.

[father]

this comp is now over!! ill have it judged in a day or two

[father]

username: dilly.
envoy name: Tamren
flowers:

the undergrowth crackles, twigs snapping and leaves rustling. the envoy leans over a bush, the long stemmed roses tilting faces up towards them as if in the presence of the sun. a smile tugs at their lips as they carefully brush a finger over the petal of the closest rose. the colour leeches out instantly, drawing together to form a brilliant red orb hovering in the palm of their hands. they hum to themself, eyes drifting close. this will do, yes.

tamren places as many roses as the bush would give into their bag, the stems splitting away with the barest tug. they murmur a thanks as they leave, and the forest sighs its goodbye behind them.

later, tam burns the stems. it makes a merry fire, eagerly burning until all that is left is ashes and dust. the leaves will be grounded into pulp, shaped with gentle hands until flat and smooth. the colour is drained from the petals and left in separate bowls, the red glimmering darkly in the light of the fire.

they watch and listen. in the smoke of the fire, the roses find their voice at last. stories bubble up, the flowers eager to tell what they have seen and what they have heard. it was a chance to speak, and speak they did. tamren tugs a feather loose from their headwings, and carefully starts penning the stories on paper made of leaves and ink made of petals.

the forest has many stories to tell, and tamren listens to them all. they are written down and kept, a chronicle of history.

congrats! i really liked this idea :>

good luck to everyone in future comps!

[dilly.]

!!! aaa thank you so much!! i love this kid <33