[elf_of_the_hollow]

---( 🍑 )---

[s] hair, shine, teeth
[c] tail, fur
[uc] ears, pupil [none]


this kit is based on peaches, which often symbolize longevity & immortality -
in order to win this kalon you have to tell me about something they've loved
their entire life! feel free to interpret the however you wish <3

you have a word limit of 500 words! no extras, but prettying up is allowed

Code: Select all

[b]username & ID number:[/b]
[b]name:[/b]
[b]prompt:[/b] [500 word limit]

this ends february 25th

[strawberryy]

mark!

[₊˚ʚ꒷ ₊˚Mallow₊˚ ‧₊]

username & ID number: ₊˚ʚ꒷ ₊˚Mallow₊˚ ‧₊ // 954866
name: Yuki
prompt: wip

[strawberrymwilk]

username & ID number:
name:
prompt: [500 word limit] mark!!

[Lavender Town]

username & ID number: Lavender Town | 878073
name: Blush | She/They
prompt: mark!

[hayzel]

╭xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╮
hayzel // 747307
╰xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╯

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ f a i t h ! ! ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

❝ if friends were flowers, i'd pick you ! ❞

in which faith has always maintained a garden in attempt to immortalise meaningful connections, but soon learns that it's living in the moment which truly matters.

⎯ ( 496 / 500 ) ⎯

a flower garden thrives under the gentle care of a gentle and persistent soul; much like faith herself.
quite early on they realised that like flowers, relationships and connections take a particular amount of tenderness and effort in order to flourish.

that's why faith started their flower garden. for each friend she plants a single flower that reminds her of them. often it's the hue of the delicate petals, other times it's the meaning associated with it. after picking out a flower, faith tends to it with an amiable devotion. the garden itself isn't much older than her, weathered by the seasons and the sorrows that pursue along the course of life. in their care, flowers have prospered, others have died. each flower is symbolic for a person in her life, somebody that she cherishes. with help from her grandmother, they enchanted the flora in the garden to mimic the relationships the flowers symbolised.

faith would start their day with a glass of peach tea, the peaches from her grandmother's orchard a short stroll away. flower by flower, she would tend to each of them personally. at times she'd compliment them for their unique beauty, and other times telling it her favourite memory from the friend that it's symbolic for. sometimes she'd sing some of her favourite songs, and sometimes recite poetry they read just the night before. after checking thoroughly for pests, she finally waters them with a gentle sprinkling from lightly rusted can. with a reluctant goodbye, she moves on to the next with the promise she'll return tomorrow.

the first time a flower declined under her care, she cried. soon after, she recieved news that deliah was ill. though only a common cold, it simply wouldn't do. faith swiftly decided to put together a care package for her. a cannister of hot soup, chamomile and peppermint tea and one of the many blankets which faith had crocheted in their down time. she wasted no time, taking a rather abrupt walk up to deliah's home. the two shared a peaceful afternoon together though soon enough faith bid deliah good health, and returned home.

from the kitchen window, conviniently placed to look over the vivid hues of the garden, faith noticed that the roses were looking much better than this morning. the petals had started to cascade towards the soil, the leaves wilting. but now the roses were starting to return to their former glory. the only evidence that the flower had ever struggled to begin with was the pair of petals laying gently on the earth beneath it.

to faith, flowers and friendships co-exist within a delicate equilibrium. if their garden is sustained with meticulous care, then perhaps their friendships would bloom and prosper too.

faith's attempt to immortalise these friendships through their garden proved to be a failure. but with the failure, she now carries the knowledge that it's the moment which matters most, and vowed to live in it from then on.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ❀ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

[SilentMelody]

username & ID number: SilentMelody & 707008
name:
prompt: [500 word limit]

[typewriter;]

{typewriter; | 62593}

name: Fernweh ~ “Fernweh” is a German word for “farsickness,” the opposite of homesickness




prompt: One of Fernweh's earliest memories of joy was on a trip as a child. She can no longer remember where her and her siblings were going, or even where they were coming from. But she remembers the feeling.

She stared, longingly out the window, the trees on the outskirts of the small town rushing past. She felt the beginnings of a dull aching in her chest. Not pain. Simply a feeling. She watched the small, ivy covered houses drift by, and her aching grew. She saw the small shops, the other kals walking down the streets, and she couldn't contain her aching anymore. She let out a sigh. She felt as if no one would understand her, the deep, overwhelming feeling of familiarity and nostalgia. But she had never been here. She had never set foot on these sidewalks, climbed these trees, smelled these flowers. And yet, she found herself feeling at home, the way a grown up remembers their childhood home with a sense of longing and desire.

Her heart called out to the town, feeling drawn to it, at peace and content. She pressed her nose up against the window and her breath fogged the glass. This felt right. The fog, covering the town in a blurry haze, as if looking at a memory, or a dream. She wished so dearly someone could understand how she felt, the longing of a home that has never existed. Perhaps it was the ideas she created, the life she dreamt up as the buildings faded into the distance. No matter what it was, she felt the feeling slowly subside the further away they got. She turned her head back, catching the last few seconds of the tallest steeple of the town on the top of the hill as they drove past the point of sight.

To this day, one of the things Fenweh loves the most is that feeling. The feeling of belonging in a place you have never been, of experiencing a waking dream, the sense of hominess in a foreign area in the way you can sense a bond in a stranger. She travels often in search of that feeling, hoping, maybe one day, she will find a place of her own that she aches and pines for every day. To one day live in a place she feels a longing for, whose very essence pulls at her heart, her soul cries out for the sense of belonging, the sense of safety.

It is a beautiful feeling, one may say, to feel at home in places you cannot stay.
{434/500}

[SilhouetteStation]

username & ID number: SilhouetteStation + 676516
name: Georgia

prompt: (413w)

The technical definition of the word frolicking means to move about in a 'cheerful, lively' way. That in itself may be somewhat of an understatement when it comes to the way Georgia frolics.

Since she could toddle around on her two chubby toddler legs, she's hardly sat down. Running, skipping, leaping, bounding; hardly ever walking, always moving about with a rhythm in her legs. Dancing down streets and hallways, giggling and laughing, exuberantly expressing a bizarrely infectious positive energy. But she doesn't like being confined. She doesn't like being pressed in by walls and cityscapes. It's out in the hills, out in the world, where she can really stretch her legs. Where she can live the definition of her favorite word for hours on end; frolicking.

There is something...freeing about the experience. To feel the ground beneath your bare feet, long grass caressing your bare legs, stroking plants with your fingertips, breathing in the scent of petals and pollen. Feeling the sun on your shoulders, running with wild abandon across hills and brooks and outcrops. Standing at the very top, arms outstretched with the wind in your hair. The air is crisp, fresh, and untouched by humans. It's the smell of the world. And then you're running, tumbling, leaping down the slope, twirling and dancing between juniper and birch, splashing through clear streams and digging your toes into pebbles and mud. Plucking dandelions and blowing your wishes into them, watching their seeds catch in the breeze and travel to far, unknown lands. Birds song, frogs croak, cicadas chirp in the treetops. And then when your legs finally begin to ache from all the miles you have run, you collapse onto the hillside. The grass is your bed. Twigs and flowers intertwine themselves in your hair. Bumblebees hum by, butterflies flitter past, dragonflies zip along above you. The sky is huge; the sky is everything. Pink in the morning. Blue during the day. Orange at sunset. Purple and blue when night sets in. Sometimes clouds, sometimes an empty, impossibly big space. You breath the spirit of the world into your lungs, and exhale your gratitude, your awe, your love.

It is, in her opinion, a vital thing. Simple, yes, but incredibly vital. She often wonders how many people would benefit from the experience, to feel both exhilarated and free. It's never 'childish', goodness no. You can't put an age limit on something like this.

If she ever offers to take you frolicking, you go.

[elyx]

username & ID number:
name:
prompt: [500 word limit]

mark!