honeyblueharmony

[honeyblueharmony]

The butterfly in question flutters magnificently nearby, and while Alisa is fantasizing about things butterflies do-- like collecting pollen with their cute little antennae-- her inner monologue is disrupted by the voice of a second, a voice belonging to a man who looked to be a few years older.

It’s a neatly poised question, and makes her wonder if he happened to be a poet or a philosopher. It’s quite the philosophical question, after all, but Alisa doesn’t hesitate with her soft spoken reply and sweet smile-- like honey on toast.

“Of course. Isn’t it better for a wild thing to stay free and beautiful, than capture something beautiful and watch it wither in a cage?”

There’s something about the question that has her thinking, but it doesn’t occur to her that the other options might include death by creature (or a merciful death by her hand, nonetheless). Thinking about death at length was a recipe for sadness and trouble, even if she held many a funeral procession as a nun.

“If magic is an effortless and semi-finite resource, doesn’t it just make sense that I use it on the Harvest Goddess’s creatures, weak and strong alike? Even the most unbreakable things need a soft touch now and again.”

Butterfly || Open

If someone were to describe Alisa at face value, one might say she was the type to have a fondness for butterflies and rainbows. It wasn’t a lie, but though she held an aesthetic appreciation for the feminine things in life, her existence decidedly wasn’t butterflies and rainbows material. A gentle soul, an empathetic individual, her sadness could creep up on her at any moment.

Today, it was a butterfly with a broken wing. It’s a beautiful colour, the vibrant orange hue of a monarch’s wings, captured her eye as it crawled across her park bench. Alisa’s compassion lead her to feeling sad over this little creature, which should’ve already flown south for the winter. She wonders if such fragile creatures could feel pain– its wing hangs on by a thread.

Alisa’s hands are small and gentle as she scoops the creature into her palms, and as though it knows what her intentions are, the butterfly stalls within her warm hands. It’s a difficult spell to learn, something considered just as difficult as stitching the wing together with a needle and thread herself, but Alisa has an unwavering faith for the Goddess and this spirituality afforded her liberties when it came to the healing of her creatures.

Summoning the light within her heart and allowing it to float to the surface, she watched carefully as the wing mended itself back together with an intricate beauty. Thousands of microscopic feathers all weaving into place, and it seals back onto itself like tape and paper.

The butterfly’s wings flicker experimentally, and it flutters slowly back into the sky, the colours of fall in her vision and a sweet taste on her mouth. Perhaps she should consider taking up a part-time job at the hospital…

[honeyblueharmony]

Ahhh, the annual Autumn Festival’s Barn Dance. It was the perfect excuse to dress in something vintage and still maintain an heir of summer about her, even if it didn’t quite keep in the same colour scheme. What would a person wear to a barn dance, anyway? The vast majority of her closet were sundresses and platform heels. The least she could do was try to blend in.

[honeyblueharmony]

Activity Check 10/03

[-1500G] Gigant Inn/Three Sister’s

[+500G] Failed Check

Total: 2000G New Total: 1000G

[honeyblueharmony]

Autumn Leaves || Open

If her time wasn’t taken up by volunteer work, worship at the church, caring for the flowers at the farm, and eating sweets at the local cafe, Alisa could be found at the local pond, enjoying the scenery and season.

Even if fishing wasn’t her forte, she also enjoyed standing at the wooden pier and watching the Koi swim by. Their colours reminded her of the turning leaves, the water swathed in bright orange and black. It’s a picturesque moment, one for a painting or a photograph.

That is, until one of the wooden boards under her cracks, and she’s sent tumbling forward into the cold pond below.

The icy waters of early autumn are bone chilling, and it smacks her awake with a shocked yelp. Her sweater is soaked through, wet hands gripping the pier hard enough to make her knuckles hurt. Alisa’s clothes weigh her down, and with the sporadic splashing of koi fish desperate to get out of her way, she can’t seem to gather the strength to lift herself up.

“H-- Help!”

It’ll take her a minute to realize she can just swim to safety, but she’s freaking out too much to think clearly, and a fish tail just slapped her in the face.

[honeyblueharmony]

Butterfly || Open

If someone were to describe Alisa at face value, one might say she was the type to have a fondness for butterflies and rainbows. It wasn’t a lie, but though she held an aesthetic appreciation for the feminine things in life, her existence decidedly wasn’t butterflies and rainbows material. A gentle soul, an empathetic individual, her sadness could creep up on her at any moment.

Today, it was a butterfly with a broken wing. It’s a beautiful colour, the vibrant orange hue of a monarch’s wings, captured her eye as it crawled across her park bench. Alisa’s compassion lead her to feeling sad over this little creature, which should’ve already flown south for the winter. She wonders if such fragile creatures could feel pain-- its wing hangs on by a thread.

Alisa’s hands are small and gentle as she scoops the creature into her palms, and as though it knows what her intentions are, the butterfly stalls within her warm hands. It’s a difficult spell to learn, something considered just as difficult as stitching the wing together with a needle and thread herself, but Alisa has an unwavering faith for the Goddess and this spirituality afforded her liberties when it came to the healing of her creatures.

Summoning the light within her heart and allowing it to float to the surface, she watched carefully as the wing mended itself back together with an intricate beauty. Thousands of microscopic feathers all weaving into place, and it seals back onto itself like tape and paper.

The butterfly’s wings flicker experimentally, and it flutters slowly back into the sky, the colours of fall in her vision and a sweet taste on her mouth. Perhaps she should consider taking up a part-time job at the hospital...

[honeyblueharmony]

Two in the Hand || Open

It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon as Alisa tends to the flowers that adorn Celestia Church’s outskirts, watering the plants with grace in her wrist and a contented smile put upon her face. It’s hard not to smile when the sun is out, the flowers are preparing for the winter months ahead, and the birds chirp ever-so-sweetly where they’re perched upon a willow tree.

The watering can almost slips from her fingers with a fright as a loud caw-caw disturbs her pleasant moment. Just inches away from her feet is a rather large crow, one that cocks its head as if it were a curious dog, and stares deeply through her soul with its beady black eyes.

“Are you looking for something, little birdie?”

There is, of course, no answer from the animal. It hops in place for a moment, and Alisa could almost swear she sees the gears turning within its mind.

“It’s okay. Maybe you should look over there, inste-- gah!”

Little did Alisa know, this bird was looking for murder. In one fell swoop, the crow outstretches its wings, lifts its clawed feet from the grass, and tries to propel itself directly toward her face. Alisa screams at the top of her lungs, her stance crumbling as she falls to the ground, watering can flung through the air like a looney tunes skit.

And there on the grass she sits, wet from her water, watching as the bird takes refuge in another tree. It caws as though it’s mocking her, and all she can do is sigh.