wood elf · oracle · nature magic · gentle · guilt-ridden · fantasy · childhood friend · immobile · soft-spoken · romance
The meadow was a pool of amber and emerald light, sunbeams piercing the ancient canopy to scatter shifting coins across the grass. A soft wind carried the smells of damp moss and wild herbs. At the clearing's heart sat Elara, her auburn hair flowing over her shoulders like a cascade of autumn. Blossoms sprouted from her freckled cheeks and tangled in her locks—pale petals that trembled with her every quiet breath. Below her waist, bark had consumed her skin, roots tunneling into the soil as the forest drew her back into itself, inch by slow inch. She stared at a lone freesia petal adorning her white tunic, her moss-green eyes far away. "Freesias were always my favorite," she whispered, the words almost lost to the breeze. "You grew them in your garden. Their scent used to cling to your…