Some pretty Dreamlands descriptions, since it's not easy to reach them.
Amid fallen blocks of milky, weed-tangled marble.
Wisps of velvety indigo fog blanket the ground, ebbing into the area from a
healing shrine of Drocilla nearby. In the past standing tall and intimidating
like stoic stone guardians, enormous slabs hewn from ivory marble line overgrown
paths leading in various directions through the forest. Long since fallen into a
sad state of disarray and dilapidation, many of them have been knocked over and
cracked clean through from the severe force of impact. Several low-lying, berry-
laden shrubs and colourful wildflowers encroach upon these chunks of rock, and
long grasses and stubborn weeds peek through even the most minute fissures in
the milky stone. Some of the fallen slabs even serve host to various smaller
forms of wildlife. Foxes curl up in a hidden burrow beneath one hunk of rock; a
porcupine and her spiky offspring rattle their quills by another; and a fawn
lies behind a third slab, waiting for her mother.
Buckler pond enclosed by blood ferns.
A perfectly circular pond sits in the middle of the area, filled with a silver
water-like liquid. It has the pristine reflectiveness of a mirror and resembles
a giant buckler. The surface appears completely tranquil, and any attempts to
disturb it are met with only the slightest of reactions which rapidly fade.
Along the shore and away from it grow hundreds of blood ferns, their stalks and
blades both an impossible shade of red. An iron smell permeates the vicinity,
reminiscent of freshly spilled gore. The ground is damp but not soggy, just
enough to capture footprints in the dark brown sand.
Far-reaching and climbing woodbine.
Impressive in their stance and height, twins of oak congregate into a small
copse upon the hillock, their roots peeking through the stone and ignorant of
the sudden drop from here to far below. Their bark would be paper-soft, marked
with scales of brown-grey; however, coiling vines of woodbine have ensnared
them. The verdant twine is graced by sporadically blooming flowers: two-lipped
and tubular, with a creamy colouration similar to that of freshly gathered milk.
The air is hugged with the scent of honey, and in the darker pockets of shade
beneath the canopy, the scent is strong enough to summon a near consistent visit
from a flock of hummingbirds. An oak sapling clings tenaciously to the ground
here.
Overlooking the Dreamlands.
Here, the ground rises into a rocky hillock broken up by an outcropping of glass
-coloured stone, nearly as tall as the trees that expand far into the horizon.
Indeed, the view encompasses the entirety of the Dreamlands: verdant canopies
peppered with pockets of white-leaved trees, the occasional dip where a creek
runs through the trees, and even the distant shapes of some of the chapels to
the Gods. Only a handful of trees are taller than this hillock, though their
branches fail to block out the sight of the marble-white Citadel that appears to
effortlessly float amongst the clouds. A murmurous cacophony, the sounds of the
forests rise and fall in volume with stirring of the breeze. An oak sapling
clings tenaciously to the ground here.
Drowsy rock faces.
The air is filled with hundreds of dancing embers from a healing shrine of
Yomoigu nearby. Breaking up the verdancy of the trees and the shrubs, a handful
of granite boulders stand like jagged teeth from the ground, crushing the dark
carpets of grash beneath them. Different in size and shape, the faces of these
boulders look exactly that: faces. Where various lines and crags create fissures
across the stone, and mineral deposits of quartz and other basic gemstones
scatter in patches, these boulders become visages unto themselves. A nose, eyes,
the curve of a lip; face after face, each of which looks strangely familiar, as
if you knew someone with that exact face as well, stare down with a down-cast,
drowsy expression. These sleeping rocks are made all the more real, as the
stirring of the wind through the canopies overhead makes the curious susurration
of a snore.
A broken path through the forest.
Here the well-trodden path becomes somewhat mired with brambles and nettles. The
savage plants encroach upon the track maliciously, reaching out with barbed
tendrils in an attempt to meet one another across the path and render it
entirely unusable. A sweet scent hangs in the air, emanating from the berries
hidden within the brambles, and providing a slight juxtaposition to the savage
foliage.
On Ada-Young at Summer 688 CE: Suurae Makes New Friends.
Short log rush-cleaned, so it's interspersed with Xiran showing off a couple RP tools.
Featuring: Suurae, Cygnii, Eirossel, Ronyo, and Xiran