#wisp alsentia

[wispofwillow]

On to Dawntrail!

(Finished the last of the patches today!)

@khalacrumbles

[rasenkaikyo]

Sandsea

@crimson-bull / @wispofwillow / @bad-moen-rising

[furys-mercy]

Case A005: Investigation of the Murder of Gregorovitch Rastly – Acquisition of the White Cat

The following fieldwork report is penned on yellowed parchment spotted and smudged with soot and grease. The pages look as if they have been torn from a journal just prior to their submission. The handwriting is legible, though slanted, and rather small. It looks as if the writer was attempting to be more precise with their lettering to make it easier to read.

Case: Case A005: Investigation of the Murder of Gregorovitch Rastly – Acquisition of the White Cat Date: 15th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon Time: 8th Evening Bell Report filed by: August Mercer, Head of Fieldwork

Objective: Track and acquire the white cat statue

Team:

August Mercer - Head of Fieldwork

Y’rissa Rahn – Fieldwork

Yvara Pyry - Fieldwork

X’khal’a Moui – Head of Research

Sasari Sari – Research Contractor

Lif Silverlode – Research

Allyn Grav’nost - Research

Stari King – Head of Medical

Wisp Alsentia – Medical

Jayce Greywolfe – Medical

Aerik Lossborough – Medical

Ayame Yatsurugi – Intelligence

Kurenai Nagimae – Intelligence

Fieldwork Summary:

Contractor Sasari Sari, with the assistance of August Mercer, discovered a way to track the aetheric resonance of the familiar soul within the black cat statue.

The team was briefed on the plan at the Aetherflow offices prior to the departure of both The Topaz Carbuncle and Stormbringer.

Using the resonance tracking device, the attuned crystal, and several of Sasari Sari’s mammets, the Topaz Carbuncle tracked the second cat statue. Strombringer followed, guided by the mammets aboard.

The aetheric resonance tracking device lead the team to a derelict shack nearly hidden in the snows of Coerthas.

Upon landing, scouting was done. Y’rissa Rahn scouted the outside of the building while August Merc dispatched his drones to inspect the inside of the already open shack.

Nothing of note was discovered on the outside.

The drones noted a figure huddled in the corner of the shack, unmoving.

With this information, August Mercer dispatched a small team to enter the house. This team included himself, Stari King, Allyn Gravnost, and Y’rissa Rahn.

Inside the small scouting party discovered the body of a woman presumed to be the maid, Mrs. Travailleur. In her arms was the body of an unknown boy, also deceased, and the white cat statue.

Stari King confirmed the deaths of both the woman and the child.

August Mercer asked that no one but Stari King touch the white cat statue. Hearing this instruction, Stari collected the White Cat Statue.

While the forward party was still in the shack, a small airship landed, and fourteen figures disembarked and approached the remainder of the team.

Members of the team engaged in conversations with Mr. Buttons, who demands the return of both cat statues.

The forward party exited the house and entered the conversation.

Mr. Buttons revealed his true interest has always been the cat statues rather than finding who it was that murdered his butler.

Mr. Buttons appeared shocked that his maid was not the only body within the house. It was never confirmed why he was shocked at the presence of a boy.

The team refused to return the cat statues to Mr. Buttons.

Mr. Buttons activated altered protocols and modifications to his mammets and ordered them into combat.

The team engaged with both the mammets and Mr. Buttons and after a heated battle, the team proved victorious. A list of mammets, their modified skills, and their current state will be listed below. A list of skills demonstrated by the Aetherflow Team as well as any injuries will be provided below.

After the combat concluded injured members of the Aetherflow team were stabilized, moved on to airships, and returned to the infirmary for further treatment.

Mr. Buttons sustained significant injuries during the altercation. Aerik Lossbourough healed his wounds and August Mercer ensured he was turned over to the custody of the Temple Knights.

August Mercer and Sasari Sari remained behind to ensure Mr. Buttons arrest, salvage the mammets that were not beyond repair, and see to the proper burial of Mrs. Travailleur and the boy.

Mr. Button’s Mammets:

Eyelet – Ranged/Tailor – Blue and Violet – Muskets - Salvaged

Bobbin – Ranged/Tailor – Blue. White Poof. – Tethered Javelin – Salvaged

Cruet – Ranged/Cook – Red with gold specks – Fire - Destroyed

Sommelier – Ranged/Underbutler – Black – Seemed to act not unlike a Black Mage - Salvaged

Alexandrite – Ranged/Companion – Green – Possessed a carbuncle. Potential Arcanist? - Salvaged

Spuria – Support/Companion – Dark Red and Rosegold – Unsure Of Abilities - Destroyed

Bartholomew – Leader?/Melee?/Companion - Brown – Grew quite large and charged the team. How this was managed is unclear at this time. - Destroyed

Teddy – Support/Companion – Light Blue w/pattern – Aetheric Song? - Destroyed

Allium – Ranged/Companion – Green – Potentially poisoned darts. - Salvaged

Lilium – Ranged/Companion – Pink – Capable of stun? - Destroyed

Isaac – Support/Melee/Companion – Blue and White – Sword and Shield. Aetheric Shields - Destroyed

Pyrite – Melee/Companion – Gold – Brawler - Salvaged

Rake – Melee/Gardener – Brown – Scythe – Destroyed

Team Injuries and Skills:

August Mercer – Uninjured – Ranged – Shielding and Drones

Y’rissa Rahn – Minor Injuries – Red Mage?

Yvara Pyry – Significant Injury to Leg – Hand to Hand

X’khal’a Moui – Aether Drained and Over Aspected – Red Mage. Capable of Foul. Usage unstable and ill-advised. 

Sasari Sari – Aether Drained and Minor Injuries – Shielding, Damage Mitigation, Tethering.

Lif Silverlode – Significantly Injured. Full Nature of Injury Unknown – Nature of skills unknown. Aether Absorption. 

Allyn Grav’nost – Minor Injuries? – Machinist. Aetherically charged rounds.

Stari King/Unit 02 – Significantly Injured – Aetheric bladework.

Wisp Alsentia – Significantly Injured – Levin manipulation. Unknown healing magics.

Jayce Greywolfe – Minor Injuries – Sage?

Aerik Lossborough – Minor Injuries? – White Mage.

Ayame Yatsurugi – Minor Injuries? – Melee Combatant. Katana

Kurenai Nagimae – Minor Injuries? – Throwing knives with aetheric charges.

Conclusion:

Mr. Buttons was surrendered to the Temple Knights.

The Cat Statues were placed in secure storage.

Salvageable mammets were loaded onto the ship and returned to their maker, Sasari Sari.

It is believed that Mr. Buttons was Abishek and had been using the statues to move his soul from body to body to extend his life by many centuries.

The identity of the child is unknown and considered a loose end.

[scales-claws-and-thorns]

Okinimesumama (お気に召すまま, As You Like It) featuring @furys-mercy @newhorizonsxiv @khalacrumbles @wispofwillow and yours truly

[wispofwillow]

Thank you so, so much again - I absolutely love how you captured Wisp! Everything about this is truly just wonderful - their fang showing, the face markings and scars, the colors, the swoop to their hair! Thank you!! Your art is lovely!

my comms are open! - [ko-fi] - [google forms] - [carrd]

Recent comms, thank you so much everyone for entrusting me with your blorbos!

Baldur’s Gate - Khezadrin with her familiar Felix for glittergear

DnD - Tide Springs, he/him for ReddRiftWalker

FFXIV - Wisp, they/them for wispofwillow

FFXIV - Viera WoL for EventideReader

[wispofwillow]

Prompt 8: Shed

FFXIV Write 2023

Wisp sneezed. Not at the sharp smell of the fresh-cut herbs in front of them: those they had become accustomed to, at least across the course of the last hours. No…(they sneezed again)...it was not smell that had tickled their nose, but…fur?

White fur. And orange, too, they realized, eyes crossing a little to focus on the bits of fur floating down into their range of vision. 

"Aerith, are you shedding? I would not think it is the season for it, but if we need…" They paused, setting down the small metal knife, ears swiveling as they looked around them, properly this time - beyond the bits of unsettled fur. Where was her normal prrt of response to her name being called? "Aerith?"

Pushing slowly to their feet, one mossy green hand set to the table to steady themselves against the pins and needles in their legs (how long had they been sitting?), Wisp frowned, brows drawing together. No multicolored puddle of fur atop the potions drawer, her favorite spot from which to Observe…no glimpses of bright white fur between leaves and stems around the edges of the greenhouse walls…no sound of padding feet across the floor. 

A faint tingle of alarm sliding up their spine, Wisp crossed the room quickly to the front door, tail twitching - but no, the door was closed. But where…Wisp turned, eyes drawn back to the table where they had been kneeling, and the small spiral of fur drifting in the beam of sunlight there. Their gaze followed that slanted light - full of fur, now they truly looked at it - back, and up…To a little crack in the glass. Just a little crack really, up so high…but…high enough to reach from the edge of the hanging branch holding out the lightest of the potted mosses brought up from Gridania…And, perhaps not such a little crack as they had thought. 

Shifting a plant with a whispered apology, Wisp vaulted up onto the shelf running the edge of the greenhouse wall, then up one shelf further…And there it was, the tiny crack they had put off fixing for the expense of the glass, now pushed out wider, a fragment of glass knocked out…And clinging to the edges of it, wads of fur: white, orange, and black. 

"Oh, Aerith…" 

And out across the weedy bit of grass and narrow street beyond, no sign of her.

Wisp leapt down, snatched up their pale mask of wood, and strode for the door, a sensation like dread weighing in their chest.

[wispofwillow]

What is the make-up of your character’s polycule? Who are their metamours? Do they share any partners?

"Oh." Wisp smiles quickly, apologetically. "I fear you may already have this answer, if you've spoken with some of the others. But perhaps not! Anyroad, I am one of Khala's partners," they sign the word as they speak it, flushing just enough to be noticeable beneath the pale half-mask that covers their eyes. "He is married to Mercer, and has been partners with Ayame for quite some time. Mercer is also partners with - I believe engaged to - Akhutai, who is married to Lyneth. Mercer's other partner is Stari, which is newer - not as new as I am perhaps - but, they'd known each other some time before dating." They smile, again, there.

They pause a moment, head tipped in reflection. "I do not think either Ayame or Lyneth has another partner, though in truth I do not yet know them well enough to be certain of it. Stari does not. So, no one shares a partner at this time, though I believe they have in past years?" A quick shake of the head. "A good family, all told. I am lucky to have been offered a place in it though it- well, I hope to be worthy of it."

((Thank you so much for the ask @yvesoix-sellemontiere!! Wisp is very new to the group, as am I to RPing with them, and particularly RPing Wisp in a romantic capacity with Khala, so was hesitant to post the ask meme, as there is a lot that they do not know, and that I do not, either! It has been excellent to see these asks and how others are responding, though!))

[wispofwillow]

Prompt 2: Bark

FFXIV Write 2023

Aerith (the cat) surveyed the length of her domain - well, one of her domains - stretching out her front paws with a yawn and a contented purr. This particular domain consisted of a cramped but neat greenhouse (a sunny glass palace with innumerable shady leaves and places for good jumping, with comfortable cushions just for her, as she saw it), striped through now with late afternoon shadow. And, of course, it also included the tall not-cat within, who knelt now (sadly - knees were less good for kneading and for curling up into balls of napping fluff on top of) by the wood table at the back of the room. 

At least the not-cat (though, confusingly, a not-cat with ears and a tail - grey, not like Aerith's bright white, vibrant orange, and sleek black) was awake and here this time. And this was part of Aerith's contentment as she stretched again, whiskers pointing forward as her back arched, and stood up on her shelf cushion (marked of course with layers of her fur). Aerith did not quite know what she meant by her not-cat (Wisp was what they were called by other not-cats, though the sounds meant little to Aerith) being not-here, even when sitting in that same spot they occupied now, head bent over some things or other that Aerith was not allowed in - but she knew when it happened and she did not like it. Especially when the not-here times came close together. 

Just to be extra sure, Aerith threaded her way through and around the potted plants and trays of seedlings with surprising grace for such a round creature, headed with determination towards her Wisp. With a noisy thunk and an accompanying mmrp? (it would not do to go unannounced - well, at least not when she wanted attention), Aerith jumped down off the last shelf, back up onto the table, and waddled her way between the trays off moss and sheets of (oh! crinkly!) paper, to plop onto her behind just in front of the not-cat. They did not have that stiff not-fur layer on their face right now, so it was easier to look up to meet their eyes and see themselves reflected back. "Mrrp? Rrrawr."

Wisp made a credible (if non-sensical - not-cats were so silly) imitation of Aerith's greeting back to her, and offered a hand for Aerith to sniff. Aerith did so, politely (earth smell, like always, honey…sadly not the fish treats), before ramming her head into that hand. The mossy softness that not all not-cats seemed to have made a nice cushion against her face. But, lately, there was a hardness under that moss, like the bark that Aerith scratched on in climbing (illicit! Not allowed, but fun) outside that was nice for scratchy chin rubs, but not as much for accidental hurts in head bonks, so it needed to be approach with caution. Today, though, it did not seem bad, and Aerith could see the extra relaxation in the expression on Wisp's face that meant a purr.

Good. Her not-cat was doing well. She had done her job. 

Nevertheless, she remained for several more minutes for appropriate pets and chin-scratching (a good reward, and Wisp did not always allow her to sit here, if there were that shiny glass, or that crystal that made her fur bristle - or sometimes sharp-smelling plants), before hopping down again, to walk the length of her domain. 

Here and there she stopped for a sniff, or to set her paws in soft dirt (but not to pee, for apparently this was discouraged by stern noises from the not-cat, except in the separate box with softer sand that was set aside just for this, which was fine). Interesting smells abounded - dog, for one, and the other not-cats - the one that smelled of batter and butter, one that smelled…dustier?, others that also smelled of dirt and earth, but different dirt. All familiar smells. 

Except…

A strange smell…no, not a smell…

Aerith paused in her rolling perimeter of the room, fur lifting, nose to the air, pointed toward the wood-framed door that led to the outside of the little glass house. Something…No, not a smell…but a-

Bark. Bark bark bark!

Aerith dropped flat, ears twitching, little round tail poofing out to the size of a Moogle pom.

Dog! With its loud dog language.

Wait…a familiar bark, a familiar dog. She sneezed, readiness to attack or run easing just as a little excited whining whimper, followed but the snuffle of a nose at the door crack, reached her ears. It was not until the quick rhythmic tap at the door, also a familiar pattern, that Aerith heard her not-cat look up and shift in those swishy robes. Wisp called some kind of greeting, and Aerith dutifully trotted forward to receive the requisite licks from the blur of tan fur and curled, violent fan of a tail that burst in almost before Wisp finished speaking. Despite the excessive bathing (tolerated, one should not say enjoyed), Aerith pointed her whiskers forward: a small price to pay for the warmth of the cuddles offered by the Dog (Gidget was what the not-cats seemed to call her) when she finally wore herself out (how did dogs have so much sprint in them? And so much energy just in their tails). 

Properly enjoyed were the surprisingly gentle head and chin rubbing offered by the not-cat that followed Gidget, calling a cheerful greeting back to their own not-cat. For a creature with such long ears and such energy himself - and such a boisterous companion as Gidget - this not-cat was exceedingly good with cat language. 

Well…mostly properly enjoyed. But it was hard to sink even into well-applied chin scratches with that sense of - not a smell, but something…off. Wrong. Like food gone off. Not entirely familiar, but not entirely strange, either. Coming from somewhere out that door.

Aerith looked up as the long-eared not-cat moved past her at the faint, scarcely-heard whine from Gidget. Whining again, the dog looked at her - it was a Look, even across species.

Something out there was not right.

Aerith (with a curiosity said by some to be dangerously native to her kind) wanted to know what it was.

[wispofwillow]

CLANN - The Faerie Court (Under Moon)

[wispofwillow]

Working on a greenhouse

[wispofwillow]

(Second set of screenshots from @rhalgr! Thank you so, so much - the expressions here are just perfect, and I love everything about what you created for these screenshots 😭💕)

[wispofwillow]

Thank you so much @rhalgr for creating these amazing screenshots of Wisp! You picked a perfect setting and captured them so well, too!

[wispofwillow]

Thank you so, so much again!! This is absolutely gorgeous and you captured them so well! 😭 I love this piece!

Thank you for this beautiful art!!

Icon commission for @wispofwillow ❤️ Their FFXIV character Wisp~

Ko-fi commissions info: https://ko-fi.com/nxmfkofi

[wispofwillow]

Prompt 1: Envoy

FFXIVWrite 2023

The Crystarium - Norvrandt; Then

"...And a jar of honey, please?"

"Of course. Anything more, miss?" 

Wisp hid a wince at this last with a quick shake of their head and a hastily summoned flit of a smile. The top of their tail twitched, but this, they hoped, might be obscured by the swing of their robe hem as they shifted to accept the full sack of goods from the shopkeep's deft hands.

"Thank you, no. This ought to be it." The stiffness of their smile eased a little as they fished the proper coin - well, what they hoped was the proper coin, in a currency still new to them - from the small stash in their belt pouch. 

The shopkeep - Aron, Wisp had learned he was called the last time they had been here, a month ago, no, two - smiled in turn as he accepted the coin. But he paused in the midst of the swift count of the tumbled stack, mouth working like it was forming words not spoken, rubbing one coin between blunt fingers.

"Is…anything amiss?" Their smile slipped, ears tipping back, watching that coin pass between his fingers. Coinage was not a necessity, here, in the lands spared the Flood - bartering could be done - but always there was more to be obtained, and less earned for what work they could do for any outside Il Mheg. If they'd been fleeced with false coin, not knowing enough of what it ought to look like, or even simply counted wrong…

"Amiss? Wh-Oh!" Aron followed their gaze to the coin in his fingers, and abruptly his hesitation melted into the quick laugh that Wisp remembered from their last dealings. “With the coin? No.” The shape of that laugh - the humor had guided their steps toward his stall in the midst of the somber air that often seemed to wind through even the beauty of this crystal-lit sanctuary when first they’d properly ventured here a month ago - no, two - lingered a moment even as Aron’s mouth worked again.

“It’s just…” An in-drawn breath, and his eyes dropped away from Wisp’s, his brow furrowing as Wisp’s own arched up as he visibly shifted the question he’d been about to voice. Instead: “They like honey, do they? The…Up in Il Mheg, that is.” 

Wisp’s tail twitched once, again, then stilled, fingers tightening around the rough fabric of their woven sack. A deliberately slow breath to let the stiffness ease as their green eyes met the hyur’s grey ones, to allow the brief smile to come easier. “Oh, the honey is for me. The flowers the bees here can draw from here have their own particular taste, you know.”

“...Right.” It was another long beat before he broke eye contact. Only once he did could Wisp feel their shoulders begin to relax. 

“Thank y-”

“But you are their envoy, aren’t you? Il Mheg. The Pixies.” The new voice was higher, fierce in a way that pinned Wisp’s ears back even before the hand gripped their forearm from behind. Instinct froze them, their eyes locked onto Aron’s wide - wide, shocked, but not surprised - as the speaker shifted herself into view. A slight woman, really, shorter than Wisp and sapling-thin, despite the strength in the fingers still dug into Wisp’s arm, grey threading the dark of her ragged braid. 

“I’m sorry?” It was all Wisp could think to say, as though they’d misheard.

“You. You’re their envoy, their messenger. I’ve seen you - you must be.” Her voice was hoarse with that fierceness - no, desperation. 

“Envoy? I - No. I’m sorry,” Wisp repeated, this time with full awareness, a shiver of something akin to fear raising the fur along their tail as the woman tightened her grip still further. “No.” Whoever - whatever - they were to the few Pixies who tolerated their presence at the bare edge of their domain, it was no envoy. 

“No? But - yes, you are. You speak with them. They all say so. You must speak with them.” The woman, dark eyes standing out of that desperation-scarred face, stepped closer, into Wisp’s space, into their breath. “You must-”

“Nonna…” Aron’s hesitant protest walked over Wisp’s hiss of pain, toppled by the woman’s rising voice.

“You have to help. To tell them. My son. My son crossed their border. He’d heard you could. He just wanted to see - just wanted - but he hasn’t come back. He hasn’t come back. He meant no harm, but he hasn’t-” her voice cracked, then, shredding over the words, “he hasn’t come back.”

Wisp could feel the fear in them, could see their own fear reflected back in the woman’s eyes, so close. They knew - how could they not? - what became of trespassers to Il Mheg. They’d seen the leaf men. The wanderers. The drowned. The woman would have heard rumors, stories. 

And Wisp had heard more than that. Cries, in the dark, in the fog. Whispers, in their own ears. Requests turned to impetuous threats, the demand of a child with the powers of an ageless magical being to back them. 

“I’m sorry,” they repeated again, a whisper this time. A step back. A tug of their arm, away - away. “I’m not…I cannot help you.”

“You must, no, you must-My son - you must do something. Please, please-” a cry broken on a sob

“Nonna-”

“You must-”

“I am sorry - please-I-”

The fingers slipped, strength gone of them as that woman’s face crumpled in on its hope, fragmented in the shards of light cast out from the crystal encasing them. 

And Wisp turned, and fled, half a shadow of themselves, the heat of shame burning into the icy fear pressed into their arm where the woman’s - the mother’s - fingers had gripped them, into the numb skin of the silvery white scar just beneath where that scar had been. They stumbled a step, those cries ringing in their ears, walking but fleeing all the same. Away from the Crystarium and the thin safety of its walls. Back to the tumbled stones of the scant shelter they had found here on this world.

Back to the nightmare dressed in the finery of a dream that was - could be - Il Mheg.

_______

The Central Shroud, Gridania, The Source; Now

Leaves shushed and whispered overhead, around, through - a thin wall of sound, of safety - speaking but not speaking, a language of wind, of life, of-

“Hey. You.”

Wisp’s eyes snapped open, gloved hands following suit, instinctively dropping the small trowel that had hung limp from their grip a moment before even before their eyes had fully registered the shape, the color, the meaning of the boots planted just beyond where they were crouched, off the path leading onward to the Eastern Shroud.

They’d been drifting, again, they knew - but knowing it, recognizing it, and stopping it were such different things, yet. And there was little time, now, for self-recrimination as Wisp’s gaze traced the boots up to a moss-green tunic, and up again to a still face made all the more impassive by the beech half-mask, so alike to Wisp’s own, that shielded the upper half of the face of the Elezen man standing over them, lance in hand. Wood Wailer. 

And here were they, marks of moss up their arms for any who looked closely in the gap between glove and sleeve, hands in the dirt of the Shroud, reaching for its protected plants. A belated wave of stiff fear caught at their breath.

“I’ve permission,” they managed, when their breath rocked back into them. The wood wailer’s face - unfamiliar, still, in the short time since they’d been back, and keeping away from the city and the guild as much as possible. They cleared their throat and tried again. “I’ve the permission of the Fane, for this. Sustainable gathering - taking only as needed,” they added, unnecessarily, tipping their raised, empty hands toward the full-leaved plant before them.

The Wood Wailer snorted, then, and lifted his gaze from them to the wider forest beyond. The spear remained with its butt planted on the ground, held almost loosely. “I know. Wisp Alsentia, yes?”

Wisp nodded, hands half-signing assent before they fully processed he might not see. “Yes. Is there something amiss?” 

He started to shake his head, then paused, and lifted his free hand to scratch his chin as he looked down at them again. “You tell me. The Sylphs want to see you, I hear. You’re their envoy?”

Wisp’s mouth tightened, ears tipping back as they pushed slowly up out of their crouch, following the shift of his gaze down the path East, toward the Sylphlands, out of sight from the ground, but sensed, somehow, in any case. Wisp could not remember if that had always been so, that sense.

“That is not the word for it, I think,” they offered, softly. Envoy - that word again. 

The man’s attention snapped back to them, no real expression visible on his face, still, as his head tilted just slightly. “What would you call it, then? You’ve worked with them.”

“Aye,” Wisp allowed, “I have. Assisted them, as asked - as I could.”

“An assistant, then.” This said with a barest hint of humor. “Then, think you would assist them again?”

One ear flicked back toward him. “Are they…in need of assistance?” Their voice was only slightly less tight than it would have been had not that humor colored the question.

“You tell me.” The Wood Wailer’s head tilted just a little further, enough to look uncomfortable. Wisp turned fully back to face him, then, looking into the non-face of his mask as he looked back into theirs. 

“What…do you mean?” this time their hands echoed their words, signing the confusion.

“I think they do. Can you feel it? I think they are seeking you. Will you. Assist them?”

For a moment Wisp’s mouth tightened again, as they swallowed. Always dangerous, any agreement with any form of Fae. Any promise, all the more so, if vague.

“Aye. I can try.”

The Wood Wailer nodded, and before Wisp could react or frame a coherent question, he melted back into the woods - in the way of a trained hunter, or a shadow, or magic given other form.

Wisp stood a moment, looking after his emptiness, then turned slowly to face East again, listening to the leaves whisper. Could they help? They must.

[wispofwillow]

[wispofwillow]

Wisp as a Gym Leader

Wisp got water-type: perhaps not as apt as grass-type would seem (and dress well is...a stretch), the diversity and (forgive me) fluidity of water type may suit them.

Take the quiz here

Build your team here

Thank you for the tag @scales-claws-and-thorns

Most folks have been tagged I think, but, for yourself or a character, tagging: @reflectionsofacreator @locketship @khalacrumbles @toeskater91

(Apologies for messy formatting)