my lovely Dusk citizens,
welcome to Terrastella's spring event, organized by the ever-wonderful Sam (& Elena IC)! as always, everyone from every court is welcome to attend. this tulip festival is a celebration of all spring's gifts--beautifully bright flowers, longer days of sunshine, and the "rebirth" of a new year. please feel free to DM me with any questions <3


One day there is nothing but eternal snow, and the next day the land erupts with flowers. They sway and flow in the new spring breeze. You know you are close because you can smell them, the sweet scent that calls to you. You pick them for your mother, your father, your lover, your child, your friend. Maybe even for your enemy. 

You grab a basket. The weaving is recognizably Terrastellan, carefully done with branches of wysteria. You pick, you smell, you arrange, and you laze in the new spring sun. You try to put a flower in your companion’s hair and they gently push away your efforts, so you tuck it behind your own ear instead. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” you ask, but you know there is no answer to give that is not already known. 


“Let’s go to the tower! I bet the view is amazing from up there.” 

You race up the stairs as if they were going to carry you to heaven. You reach the top, breathless, and peer out across the grassy lands of Terrastella, and there, like a blanket of beauty, you see the flowers sprawled out before you. Rows and rows and rows of flowers stretch out to the see. They have been planted in enchanted patterns, in rows, swirls, and carefully designed constellations that have bloomed in different colors. It truly is the best viewpoint in all the Court to behold the enchanting vision that is spring. 


You choose the glass with purple petals decorating it; not because purple is your favorite color, but because it matches the spring sunset as you stand on the cliff side. You huddle close to your companion. The air has grown a chill as compared to the weather this afternoon, it is your reminder that it is not yet summer and the battle against winter is not so easily won. The drink is smooth and sweet, a sugary syrup sticking the petals to its rim, mint leaves muddled against the ice in the bottom. Your companion has a drink rimmed with yellow petals. “Let me try yours,” you request; they oblige. You think you will probably choose that one next. After all, there was still a long way until dusk ends and the night begins.  

in the garden tulips grow / 
straight and golden in a row / 
each one holds its empty cup / 
drinking rain and sunshine up.