- Username: Rainichi
Name: Oliver
Gender: Male
Favorite Flower: Lily of the Valley (May Lily)
Why?:
- Once upon a time . . .
There was a man who sung a beautiful tune on his daily walk through the woods. A fairy who lived in this forest had began to follow this man about each time he passed through, as she had found herself in love with him.
And then, one day, he didn’t return, and the fairy was heartbroken. She hoped so dearly that tomorrow, surely tomorrow, she would hear that wonderful voice and finally again see him. She waited, and she waited, and she waited, her sorrow slowly engulfing her.
It’d been months, and when her hope was only a flickering light in the darkness, a familiar note struck the air. Then another, and another, forming a song that she’d heard before. The fairy looked up, catching sight of the man, and all she could do was smile and cry.
And when one of her tears, the tear of a fairy, hit the ground and sunk into the soil, a flower sprouted, and when it had grown, it displayed small white bells, and from that day on, whenever it was dark, whenever it rained, the flower provided a faint glow, to always keep that hope alive.
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Oliver’s mother once told him a fairytale, and consequently he’d endlessly beg her to tell it again and again. She may no longer be around, but the story sticks with him. Till this day, he still isn’t entirely sure if it was her own personal original, or if she heard it elsewhere- but it doesn’t matter, because the story’s special to him either way.
A story of hope and happiness. The flower symbolizes these things, as well as tears, he’s been told. Besides this, of course, the flower has a gentle beauty, as well as a sweet scent. The white color is pure and simple and the flowers are small, delicate- a bit like him. When he was young, he would swing the plant around, watching each flower sway left and right.
The flower also happens to be very poisonous, which brings about one of Oliver’s often spoken sayings- “A book shouldn’t ever be judged by it’s cover.” Despite this, it can be used as as herbal remedy.
Oliver has spent lots of time invested in this flower, studying it and watching it grow. He has a soft spot for the plant, and for clear reasons.
It reminds him of his childhood.
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- Extra:
- An earthy smell, rain and soil and nature. The concoction of a scent lingered in Oliver’s nose as his cerulean gaze focused on the tiny sprouts that’d recently erupted from the soil. He recalled when his tiny paws had dug through the dirt, the ground’s brown particles staining his normally caramel fur. The seeds had been dropped one by one, then buried and hidden in the land.
Now they’d finally managed to break free of the dirt and breathe the air with their newly attained leaves. The winged python dog had his body close to the ground, his face mere centimeters from the baby plants. He couldn’t wait to see the things in full bloom.
“Oliver? Out this early, are you?”
Oliver’s legs straightened as his attention snapped to the side. His eyes wandered up a wall of graying fur, until he caught sight of the friendly face of an elderly python. Oliver returned the woman’s smile and gave a modest nod.
“Ah, hello Gran. It rained last night, so I figured I would make sure the plants are doing well. What about you, Gran? What are you doing up so early?”
The elder python’s head turned to the horizon; Oliver followed her gaze. The two watched as the reddened sky made a subtle transition to a light, calming blue.
“I wanted to watch the sunrise. Though, it looks like there isn’t much left to watch...” The lady chuckled as she looked back to Oliver, satisfied in seeing even just the last bit of the sun’s morning display. “I’ll let you go about your day, my boy. Come over sometime, I’ll make you something good to eat.” She paused, inspected the smaller python dog, and then gave an inquisitive look. “Are you sure you aren’t related to the prince? You look awfully like him...”
The fairy grinned and shook his head, brushing off her question. “I’ll come over this weekend, Gran. Take care of yourself.” He watched as the neighborhood Grandma lit up, then begin to head home.
The nearby trees rustled as a warm breeze ran over Oliver’s fur. His mouth opened, releasing a yawn as he stared at the base of a tree, hidden in shadows from the above branches. His duties could wait, he told himself as his tired legs carried him to the looming tree. He laid against the trunk, closed his heavy eyes,
and slept.
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