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PepperClove's Clan

oh golly, oh heck, oh geez-

Venerable Lair

near

Singer's Brook

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Into The Garden....

Call me Clover! Welcome to my corner of the internet, where I try to do anything and everything creative. Unfortunately that means nothing here has a theme or is cohesive in any way. Enjoy your stay!

(FR Time +3, Nonbinary, Pagan)

Current status: cringing.

Welcome to The Garden of Paper.

The caretakers here greet you knowingly, and they will be happy to guide you through the labyrinth of paper flowers and clay trees. Those who find their way to the Garden are lost songbirds who have lost their will to sing.

The world has squashed your dreams.

Do not fret; your story will be entwined with eternity and it will be lovingly sewn into the soil, just like with all those who came before it. Find yourself here, take all the time you need. Re-claim your spark, and you can be free to float down the river back to the rest of the world, just as you left it.

So, young songbird,
what song will you sing?

As long as dragonkind has existed so has The Garden. Most only know of it from a popular lullaby, however many who have left it have come forward to spread tales of its existence.

Many go searching for it, but ultimately claim the legends as fake, as one does not simply find it. It shifts and changes, able to appear anywhere at any moment to pick up weary souls into its embrace. Starving artists, those who've lost their way, and those who never got their chance to shine are the ones who most commonly disappear. Yet they almost always come back, telling stories of living kites and singing scrolls. The Garden caters to each individual.

Above it all are the Starlings, three ancients who manifested with The Garden. Theirs is the power to create. Few have seen or spoken to them, but they are said to be gentle beings who guide The Garden into being a friend instead of a foe. Otherwise... well, nobody likes to think about that.

Any caretakers in The Garden are chosen by the Starlings, however they always have the choice to refuse. Many of the residents here simply couldn't bring themselves to leave. A village was formed in the heart of the shifting thicket, with shops and farms, and a small defensive force just in case.

Scrolling backgrounds by Sqdpxl