Errand Dance of the Bushpeople

@Eliseo Céspedes

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Rolled a d4 to determine House Color!
1: Hufflepuff
2: Ravenclaw
3: Gryffindor
4: Slytherin

Number Rolled: 2
Ravenclaw

Something about bushes, a bonfire, and dancing. Something close or akin to that... Piérre didn’t quite remember, but he remembered saying heck yes to them all. It sounded like something he could get dirty in, and for that, he had easily refuted his typical dapper clothing and had instead vouched for something kind of ratty and dirty. A pair of ripped up jeans, the victim of constant tripping and stumbling, accidentally running up against a corner or snagging whenever he got too close to something sharp enough to inflict a tear. A plain white shirt, long sleeved in order to protect against bush diving (if that was what they were doing? Piérre didn’t really remember...)

And his notorious blue and black knitted Ravenclaw scarf. The one that had survived being thrown on a fire during an unfortunate gam elf capture the flag. This was the one that Piérre held near and dear to himself, even though he had a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin one to his name as well... funny how the only one that Piérre didn’t always have on hand was the scarf from his own house. Funny... maybe he would have to change that someday...

The cool air felt refreshing on his face as he sprinted across the great lawn, towards the place where he could see a bonfire already blazing with light and life undefiled. Wouldn’t be long until every student that ever attended Hogwarts would somehow manage to spread this blaze in every direction, possibly burning down the forbidden forest in the process, right?! There was a funny looking green blob in the general vicinity, kind of shaggy. Was that like a treant or something?! Cool!

Finally catching his breath, Piérre tried to get a better look at the area. This place looked absolutely decked out of party! Whoever had made this event sure put a lot of love into the proceedings, and it really did pay off!

However, even with the shaggy mound in mind, Piérre found himself gravitating towards the open crates with all the vegetation in them. In a twinkle, Piérre was throwing bits of plant around, picking out scraggly ones to stick in his hair, small soft ones to place in his scarf, bits with tiny buds on them to put behind his ears, and generally, just make a mess of himself. He even went so far as to scratch up some mud and soil with his fingernails and smear his face with it like it was war paint. He looked like a mud person, maybe even a hobbit of some sort! Perhaps some more vibrant flowers would also do him well... to share his personality and his personal love for everything living and growing, bright and flowery!

With a flourish and a confident smile, Piérre cast Orchideus, flicking his yew wand just the right way :d20(18)+10: and an explosion of orchids erupted from the tip of the white wooded wand. Bright pink, purple, and yellow life coming from the deathly nature of yew wood. With a laugh, Piérre hastily plucked the flowers from his wand, placing them among the branches and sticks which made up his druidic crown. The spare flowers (for there were a lot of them because of the cast...) Piérre placed back in the crates, letting anyone else have them if they wanted them. The ones that were too small to do much good he crushed in hand, sprinkling their petals and fragrance in turn. A few more touches, and his bush outfit was what, he believed to be, complete. Now, to stay away from any and all fire, and he would be just fine!

When he was satisfied with his makeover, and his face so dirty that only his bright green eyes shone through, did Piérre finally confront the strange shaggy pile of something or other. Overwhelmed by curiosity, the boy drew close to it, looking at it sideways for a moment. It was playing... a pair of bongos? A sentient tree?! Whoah! Was it magical or something cool like that? Did it come from the forbidden forest itself?! Man, now that was some dedication to an errand!

Leaning in, Piérre hummed along with the melody, swaying back and forth before he asked; “How long did it take you to learn how to play the bongos, Mister Tree? he chirped happily, rearranging the branches in his hair to form something like a branch crown. Bits of grass were patted all over his hair, now tangled from outside messing, and for sure the boy could say goodbye to the white shirt, now green with chlorophyll. “Are you self taught or did someone help you learn? Are you okay with this vegetation being used in the bonfire, or is it like skin? Like, it’s dead and it doesn’t hurt at all to shed a few branches here or there?” He was beginning to star talk a bit, overwhelmed with the proceedings and the freedom he had now to actually get himself dirty for once and cut loose into the vegetation monster that he knew that he was.

873 words

_{Open To Interactions}
Word Count: 974/800
Interacting:@Rhea Miller
_{Permission given to lightly godmode Rhea Miller from the writer}
Mentioning:@Eliseo Céspedes | @Piérre Marchonné
Languages: _{English | French | Italian | Arabic | Russian}
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853 words

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Word Count: 427/800

Graphic by Leonard Oaksworth

[font=Times New Roman]Interacting With: Nobody
Mentioning: @Piérre Marchonné & Others
Other Tags: @Evelynn Decipio

Spring. A time for new beginnings, for a fresh start, both in the nature of the earth and the inhabitants thereof. A time when all life was bathed in the sun's warmth after enduring the bitter cold of a long winter. A time that truly seemed to insist that all could relinquish any hold on the pains and afflictions of their past, allowing them to melt away with the departing snow.
Indeed, it was a time commonly associated with peace and joy. So why didn't Marshal feel that way?

The typically overzealous young Gryffindor could presently be seen on the castle grounds, his pensive form outlined by the mountainous wall of Hogwarts as he leaned his back against the stone. His solemn posture was punctuated by his hands, which rested quietly in the pockets of his jeans, and the upturned position of his chin. Eyes of hazel investigated the glowing horizon, as though searching for an answer within the fading light of the setting sun, though the stiff set of his jawline betrayed a hint that he would find no relief from whatever question he might have; not here, anyway.
Unfortunate as it was, he somehow knew that no amount of natural beauty would settle this feeling. This feeling that clenched his heart, wringing out the sense of cheer and delight that customarily resided there, and leaving nothing behind but cold confusion. It was a feeling that the boy remembered experiencing naught but one time before, but remember it well, he did. The last time these cold tendrils of uncertainty had cast about his chest had also been the last time he'd seen life within Fawn's dying eyes.
His right hand lifted from its place within his pocket, grasping lightly at the woven rope necklace he wore in a habitual gesture that always seemed to comfort him, to pull him back down to earth when his thoughts drifted too far astray. Yet, on this fading spring day, it offered no such peace, instead serving to amplify the cords of doubt within him.

Memories cut through his detached mind like a scythe, the dimming light of life in his sister's face bleeding into another image, this one more recent; he recalled staring blankly at the hazy winter sky, the feel of the snow against his skin, his nerves too numb to feel the cold. And in that brief moment before shock and loss of blood rendered him unconscious, he remembered something else as well, something that blended with the familiar fear of losing his best friend. He remembered wondering if that would be the last moment of his life, wondering if it all would simply end, fading to black, the lights never to be turned on again, or if he might touch his sister's hand once more, might hear the soft tone of her laughter as she welcomed him to a better place. And he remembered the uncertainty, even the same that he still felt, even now, on this seemingly perfect day, in an apparently safe place.
But why? Why could he not rid himself of it, like he had managed to do after Fawn's passing? Why couldn't he return to his simple, exuberant, blissful way of living, without a care as to what happened around him?
Truly, the way the sunlight bounced off of the clear sky was breathtaking, its life-giving rays waving one last triumphant goodbye to the day, promising the world that it would return again, that it would never leave them all alone. But as his posture foreshadowed, he could see no answer there, no rescue from the pit that sat, unwelcome, in his stomach.

His melancholy stupor was dragged to an unexpected - though not unappreciated - halt, as another student passed, blue mingling with black as Marshal's attention snapped to the scarf wrapped around the boy's neck. A Ravenclaw, he concluded dully.
The first-year didn't feel as though he had learned much during his time at Hogwarts, as the amount of spells he could cast remained at a rather pitiful number, but one thing he had mastered was the varying colors of the four houses. Therefore, he was confident that the boy who whisked speedily across the ground was notably smarter than himself, having also learned that most Ravenclaws were.

He watched as the scarf-clad student hotfooted his way across the trimmed grass, only stopping when he reached an impressive bonfire, burning just over yonder.
Curious, Marshal cocked his golden-topped head to one side. Now that he thought about it, he would swear before a judge and jury that there was something special about today, something that had been mentioned earlier. But what was it? He squinted with the effort of forcing his mind to remember something other than the events that had brought his gloomy mood to pass.
In the end, he abandoned the endeavor altogether, settling on the conclusion that the event had something to do with a bonfire. Genius, as ever.
His satisfaction abated, however, as yet another student appeared, disregarding him entirely, in favor of the oversized campfire. Then another, and another.
With the fifth individual went his curiosities in earnest. If this many people were attending the mysterious event, then perhaps it would be in his best interest to join in. Who knew? It may even lighten the burden placed upon his mental health. With that thought firmly in mind, he allowed himself to drift behind the current of students as they led him to the bonfire.

Arriving at the scene, all he could smell was smoke. He had always loved the scent, as it evoked contented thoughts of one joyous summer that he and his family had spent camping, he and Fawn passing the time by sprinting giddily about the trees, while their parents relaxed by the campfire - until his father decided to show them how hide-and-seek was really played. And Marshal had to admit, they never would have found him in that tree, had the bear not sniffed him out...
As the miserable fates of misfortune dictated, however, he would experience no such peaceful reminder of summers lost. Instead, it was replaced with the sound of train wheels rumbling along metal tracks, followed by explosions, then screaming, and finally, an overwhelming sense of helplessness as he was tossed about like a discarded piece of trash in a hurricane.
Heart clenched by icy tendrils yet agin, he was forced to grab hold of a nearby crate, which was filled to the brim with leaves and branches. He quickly recovered, snapping back into reality without warning.
Feeling numerous eyes upon him, he placed the other hand on the edge of the crate and peered inside, presenting the appearance of an eager boy, who was merely searching for something inside the large box in hopes of participating in this event. In truth, he found himself staring at a pile of forest debris that meant nothing to him. What was he supposed to do - fashion a new wand from a stick and compare it to the one he had received from Mister Ollivander? The idea nearly brought his usual cheesy grin back to his face, but not quite.

Determined not to appear like a deer in headlights, he scanned the area, taking in his fellow vegetated students. Twigs protruded from disheveled hair, moss and mud covered young faces, and flowers were placed as delicate accessories, just to pull it all together as one big group of bedraggled disorder. His mother would despise such a display, but he didn't mind. In fact, the Gryffindor was generally the first to dive headfirst into the mud. But for the moment, he focused on keeping himself grounded, his expression one of pained concentration as he strove to push away the grim retention wrought by wood smoke.

March 19, 2021

Calypso walked down a hill on the Hogwarts grounds, humming softly to herself. It was

a tune that her older sister used to sing to her at bedtime when she was small, and it brought back many a memory. It was a Friday, and the young girl was still clothed in her Gryffindor uniform from classes earlier that day. A breese chilled her skin, and she pulled her robe tighter around herself, glad she hadn't changed out of it. Calypso could see the bonfire from here, large and amber-coloured and blazing against the darkening sky like a jewel glinting in a dragon's hoard. Cal was, well, a bit of an oddball, and when she'd heard rumors of an evening gathering on the Grounds, at which students would adorn themselves in plant matter and dance around a bonfire, she had known she had to attend. Short of a library, this was exactly her kind of scene.

She was close now, and could make out a few figures standing around the raging bonfire. What immediately caught her eye, though, was a tall swamp-monster-like figure, dripping with moss. Who invited Bigfoot? she wondered to herself amusedly, before realizing. It must be the Groundskeeper, Mr. Cespedes. She had heard he was the ringleader in all of this. What an eccentric man, Cal thought, remembering the time she and her friends had spent an afternoon babysitting flobberworms for him. I hope he doesn't ignite, standing so close to the bonfire, she worried.

The other figures were six students of about her age; two Gryffindors, two Slytherins, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, by the looks of it. She waved to the group as she approached.
Near the bonfire, tables topped with crates of greenery had been set up, along with assembling supplies such as scissors and twine. There was so much of it all, in fact, that Calypso wondered whether they couldn't have clothed the whole of Hogwarts in leafy garb.
The young Gryffindor surveyed the crates, her mind whirring with ideas. Cal wasn't the type to put a few flowers in her hair and call it a day. No, if she was doing this, she would do it properly.

Though her school uniform did indeed keep her warm, she wished now that she'd had

the foresight to bring an old t-shirt or something that she could sew foliage onto, as one boy was doing a ways to her left. This would be a difficult task without a base to build on. But Calypso was not a quitter. Figuring she'd start with a head wreath and go from there, she began pulling a sturdy length of vine from one of the boxes. Twisting and winding, she coaxed the thing into a crown shape, then, with twine, wired a rainbow of flowers onto it, some of which she had never seen before. There certainly were all sorts of exotic things in the Forbidden Forest. By the time she had finished, Cal had made a crown worthy of a queen. Satisfied with her work so far, Calypso let her long dark hair ot of its ponytail, and combed through it with her fingers. She wove a few flowers into it, and placed the crown atop her head.

Now, for the rest of her green getup. More students were arriving, and chatter arose from the growing crowd. Calypso thought for a moment, stumped. She could...make a long garland and wrap it around herself? But she might trip, and anyway, it would be pretty bulky to get around in. How would she dance? Let's call that plan B. Then Cal had another idea. She grabbed more vines from a nearby crate, and laid them out on the ground. She began to weave more strands through these, like a loom, and soon she had an almost-acceptable sheet of loose plant-fabric. The large leaves of the vines hid her less-than-amazing workwomanship pretty well, she noticed with a smile. Grabbing a cluster of small blue flowers -forget me nots?- she wove a few of those in here and there as well, then donned her cape. Cal wound a vine cord around her waist and wrists like a belt and bracelets, then found some fresh mud and traced spiraling vine-like designs on her arms, to help her get into the spirit of it. What the heck, it would wash off later.

Her plant-y outfit done, Calypso looked down at herself. She could barely see her school

uniform under all of the vines and leaves. I think I'm a shrub, she thought to herself, laughing a bit.

Now that she was fully decked out in greenery, Calypso wandered over to the bonfire -being careful not to catch aflame, of course- and began toasting a s'more. The sky was vast and dark overhead, stars strewn across it as if the heavens were a table that someone had spilled salt on. The warmth from the fire as well as the laughter of her peers drifting out into the night was a comfort. She turned, and was greeted by a familiar face.

Word Count: 844/800

Rhea had participated in quite a few errands throughout her first year, some of which she would have preferred to avoid, but some of which she quite enjoyed; yet, she had never been more excited for one than she was for this. How wonderfully weird would it be to create extravagant outfits out of brush and leaves, around a fire, no less?

She had awoken that morning in her four-poster bed, and not wasted a second rushing down to the Great Hall for some jam on toast, and immediately proceeded to dash out onto the grounds for this experience that would certainly prove immaculately stupid. She carried with her her bag that she had brought from the Muggle world. It was a deep green, with brown plastic-y leather straps, and there was certain appeal in the tattered state of the thing; Tracey had said she admired the "vintage aesthetic," which - well, true, but it was also fascinating to think about the places it had been whilst in the ownership of her mother. Where had Ann gone during her life? What adventures had she partaken in? Where on earth had this bag been?

When she was halfway to her destination, Rhea had the realization that she had misread the flyer, and it was a 7pm, not a.m. Deeply disappointed, she traipsed back to the castle, brooding quietly, forcing the occasional angry huff. She was not known to make stupid mistakes like this! It would tarnish her reputation. She was ruined.

Overreactions were fun. The young Gryffindor felt like she was in a movie.

Rhea had waited with baited breath all day, refusing to speak with anyone that had the bad sense to approach her. She felt like a star, the way that someone on Broadway would say it: really force out the first two consonants, and then trail off dreamily on the second half of the word. All while striking a pose. Possibly include the world "darling" in the sentence. "Don't touch me, darling, I'm a STAhrr." Of course, she did not say that - or anything, for that matter - and no poses were strucken. Struck? Strucken? Neither really sounded right.

The day crawled by, agonizingly slowly, as days do when you're looking forward for them to end. Rhea felt herself slowly shriveling away from boredom. She was sure she'd be dead by seven. Thankfully, when said hour rolled around, Rhea found herself full of childish elation. She bounded off to the grounds, not smiling, exactly, but with a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she ran. And why shouldn't she smile? It was a good day. A good time to beam at the world around you. Euphoria coursed through her veins. She was going to enjoy herself more than usual today.

Rhea skidded to a stop by the huge blazing bonfire and leaned forward, hands on her knees, to catch her breath. The air was full of smoke, and combined with her out-of-breathness, the little girl was having trouble inhaling. She took a step away to admire the bonfire. It was really very pretty: tongues of flame that almost resembled liquid filled the air in a violent, eye-catching, perpetual explosion of orange. It was amazing, honestly, although perhaps not very smart since the activity involved very flammable plants and children.

Wasn't Calypso attending this too? Rhea looked around for her friend but was distracted when she caught the eye of Henry Knight, whom she had played in chess at the beginning of the month. She grinned at him, a full, gleeful grin that spread across the length of her face.

"Hello there!" she called. He returned her greeting with a friendly nod.

Now, for the actual errand. Rhea walked over to the tables, steering clear of the smoke as best she could, and looked over what she had to work with. It was a lot. Truly, how on earth had anyone managed to obtain enough greenery to assemble this collection? Well, it worked out for her, so she wasn't complaining.

Rhea would approach her materials and retrieve from her bag an old ratty swim towel from the muggle world that she had wrapped around her Remembrall for protection, prior to stuffing it in her suitcase and heading to Hogwarts. Now she had no use for the thing, and had planned to throw it away, but this seemed like an efficient use for it. Who didn't want a cape?

Next she would scrounge through the shrubbery, trying to find the correct plants to weave into the towel. The look she was going for was quite clear in her head: royalty. She would have a crown with flowers embedded in it, a long luscious cape so prickly with greenery that no one would dare cross her, and a stick with a vine wrapped around it like a staff. Unless there was already a theme to these outfits that she would have to follow, in which case... she didn't care and was still going to be the king of the forest. Not like real royalty, like from a fairy tale.

Open to interactions
WC: 876/800

★ Made by Suzanne Byrd ★

Mentioning:@Gabriella Haworth ★ @Calypso Starling ★@Eliseo Céspedes
Interacting:Very small interaction with @Eliseo Céspedes

Spring had arrived. Finally, finally, Tory’s horrific winter was over. Spring had at last come, and along with some of Scotland’s heavy snow, dissolved all of Tory’s worries and problems. The fresh air and blossoming flowers had let her take a breath for the first time in months. She hadn’t been thinking about her fathers death, homesickness for her sweet mother, or stress to get good grades lately, and she surely enjoyed it like that. The young Gryffindor’s cold had also finally went away, and things were really looking up for her.

She only had one problem now; Gabriella Haworth (Haworth the Colossal Giraffe, Tory had once called her). They had become so called enemies in January, and now both despised each other. Tory very strongly believed Gabriella was a skyscraper-tall nuisance who had sparked their argument. Anyways, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s kinda hard to just forget about your enemy, but it’s not like Tory cared anyways. She had been so happy and cheerful lately, she hadn’t really had time to think about Haworth.

Point of the story, Tory was so happy with this early spring that when she had heard there would be dancing in plant suits around a bonfire in celebration of spring, she just had to join everybody else. Even though she had very coldly laughed at the idea at first, she eventually warmed around to it, and now she was walking across the muddy March grass towards a large bonfire near the groundkeeper’s cabin.

When she arrived, she noticed that nobody, not one person, she knew was there, which meant she was probably and most likely just going to stay to herself the entire time. In all honesty, Tory really didn’t mind staying to herself. It seemed as though she never got lonely, and that was because she had spent most of her childhood alone. All day, just with a bunch of books and moody black cat for company. The 12 year old surveyed the area. There were a few tables with food, which, on the groundkeeper’s end, were a very wise decision as hungry students were ferocious beasts, and surrounded by a few crates was another small table, this one had beads and string on it. There were a few people already there that Tory couldn’t really help but giggle a little bit at. I mean, they truly looked like plant people. “I uh, like your costume.” She said as she walked past a taller person, covered in moss and dead leaves, that appeared to be the ground keeper, Eliseo Céspedes, but she couldn’t tell.

Since it was a cooler spring night, Tory then made her way over to the huge fire, which was crackling and letting out hot breaths of sparks and smoke now and then. As she stood there next to the roaring fire, she thought to herself, why in godric’s name am I even here...I’m not really a plant whisperer.. She was about to seriously just walk back across the grounds and up to her warm, cozy, bushpeople-less dormitory, when she saw another girl, one whom Tory didn’t actually know but had seen her in the Gryffindor common room and Kneazle Nests dormitory a few times, as well as passed her in the halls and things like that. She was wearing a vine thing with leaves and had vine prints on her arms, but that’s not what Tory cared about. It was her flower crown. It was pretty and simple, placed upon the girl’s dark brown head. Tory’s face lightened up a bit at this. Maybe she could make one to? Except not a flower crown, that wasn’t really her style. Maybe just a leaf crown, kinda like the way ancient Romans used to make them except not gold? She nodded to herself in agreement, and made her way over to the supply table, where she grabbed a small piece of string. Then she made her way to a random tree that looked like she could reach, and yanked off a very thin branch.

Tory had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but still tried her best, and after 10 minutes of bending had managed to shape the branch into a round crown shape (except it looked kinda deformed, but Tory didn’t mind). She got the piece of string, still holding the crown with one hand, and tied both ends together...or at least tried. The scrawny little branch was feistier then she had expected, but eventually it gave in and she had actually, truly made herself a not-so-bad leaf crown, which, in her not so humble opinion, looked half alright. Compared to everybody else’s, she knew a meek leaf crown was nothing, but at least it was something, right?

As the night went on and it got darker out, more people arrived, and before long, a friendly chatter was floating around the patch of land. Some people, Tory spotted, dancing around the fire, while others just talked it off with their friends, and some were busy at work with vines and leaves and flowers.

Tory hadn’t known why she came. But she was happy she did anyways.

Word count: 858

INTERACTIONS=========================== N/A - open to interactions! MENTIONS @Eliseo Céspedes as bush.

Spring! Flowers! Baby animals! Lucia loved spring. It always felt as though the world was waking up after its winter sleep - slowly but surely growing back. Actually, if she was going to be honest with herself, Lucia loved all the seasons. Summer was wonderfully warm (and, of course, it contained her birthday, which was always a positive), autumn was... pretty awesome (well, okay, maybe she didn't like autumn quite as much as all the others, but it was still fun to jump into piles of leaves), and winter was frosty and elegant. Lucia had once seen a picture in a book of what the author had called the Spirits Of The Seasons - Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. Spring had been a girl with pretty flowers woven into her long blonde hair, singing to the birds in the trees. Summer had been a dark-haired boy lying down on the grass, basking in the glow of the sun. Autumn had been a dark girl with short hair and a t-shirt of leaves, cartwheeling past the others in glee. Winter had been a boy with snow-white hair, cupping a flower in his hand and watching as it turned to ice. Lucia had always loved that picture.

When she heard that the new groundskeeper (well, he wasn't really 'new' any more, per say, but Lucia still thought of him in that way) was organising a springtime event, she immediately signed up. As she got ready that evening, River had plonked herself on Lucia's bed, obviously waiting for the girl to lift her onto her owner's shoulder, but Lucia shook her head. "Sorry, Rivs," she told the purple fluffball of a pygmy puff. "You're going to have to sit this one out, okay?" River squeaked in annoyance, but Lucia just gave her a pat on the head and left the common-room. Apparently, they would be completely covering themselves in plants, so Lucia had chosen a simple white dress which she had found stuffed at the bottom of her trunk, not even unpacked. The reason for this was probably the annoying purple stain on the bottom of the skirt, and Lucia decided that this dress was as good as any to ruin. It wasn't much her style - for one, it made her look even more black-and-white than usual, with her blue eyes being the only spot of colour on her at all (not counting the stain, which Lucia resolutely decided to ignore) - but that didn't matter. It would surely be more than colourful when the day was out; and stained more, too, though Lucia herself didn't realise at the time.

When Lucia got to the area where the event was taking place, she was immediately startled by what looked like a bush... walking around. She jumped, but then it turned around and she saw that it had eyes - it must be the groundskeeper's costume. Lucia decided that whatever she made would certainly look nicer than that. Not that I think it looks bad! she corrected herself. It's just a bit... Her mental thought trailed off and she decided to have a look at everything else first.

Firstly, there was a bonfire. What was Hogwarts' fascination with fire?! Lucia just hoped that the flames had a flame-freezing charm on them, like the bonfire at summer camp had done. Well, at least we're not surrounded by flamable material, right? Lucia was surprised to find herself being sarcastic when she saw the huge crates of flora and plant life open nearby - but she had never been great at focusing on the practical aspects of anything and was quickly distracted by the prettiness of the flowers. Then, she noticed another table with snacks and drinks on it, but - for once - Lucia didn't make her way towards it first. Surprisingly, she wasn't all that hungry - not even for chocolate. There was another table which, to Lucia, seemed much more interesting, and she walked towards that instead. It was covered in rope, string, fabrics, and basically everything Lucia thought she would need - but then again, she hadn't decided what she would do yet.

She stood still for a moment, a pale girl in a white dress, as she thought. Then, her mind flew to the drawing from the book, with the four Sprits Of The Seasons. What if she tried to dress herself like Spring? Lucia couldn't have the Spirit's blonde hair - and even if she could, she liked her own dark hair anyway - but everything else probably wouldn't be too hard. She already had half of it - the white dress. In her head, Lucia listed the things she would need.

• A flowery headband. That wouldn't be too hard to make. Lucia could easily and quickly sew a strip of fabric into a band and then attach the flowers onto it... somehow. Would sewing even work? Wouldn't she just tear the flowers? And she'd forgotten her wand, so she couldn't even fix them if she did. Maybe trial and error was best in this case - there were plenty of flowers, after all. Right?
• Flowers in her hair. Maybe she could use some of the tulle - that was what it was called, right? - to make a veil-type thing she could attach to the headband? It was worth a try.
• Daisy chain necklaces. Well, those were simple to make. Lucia loved making those at home, but usually by herself. Briar chewed her fingernails, so she couldn't make them properly, and Willow always ended up ripping the flowers apart by accident.
• A white dress with... some sort of pattern on it? Well, Lucia certainly had the white dress, but what pattern? She was sure it had had some sort of pattern on it, but she wouldn't remember what. Ah well. She'd have to make it up as she went along.

That was about it, Lucia thought. Spring had been barefoot, but Lucia was a little unwilling to take off her sandals and didn't want to ruin them. Oh! And she could cover that annoying stain on the skirt with some kind of moss, or flower, or leaf, or something. It was just as well that Lucia always had been quite creative. Quickly, before anyone else took all the nice flowers, Lucia went over to the crates and crouched down next to one filled with colourful blooms, picking out some nice ones.

1000+ WORDS - COMPLETE