Mentha

Soul Trait: Blood locked Spiritual Traits: True loyalty (Something naturey as he grows too i think) At home in the ice fields, he felt dreary. The cold, the frozen desert, the barren wastelands they called home. Others did not see it this way. They told him of the life and vibrancy there, but he only saw emptiness.
He did not regret going out. What pain is there in leaving a place that contains nothing? Sure, his family belonged to the icy lands, but they were not lost in his leaving. He promised to write, to keep his parents updated. A bond sealed itself around his mind upon that promise. His wanderings took him through the world. He felt like a phantom, a lost spirit with nowhere to rest. Something deep inside him drove him out across Soreinth. That something soared within his chest upon setting foot in the Gladekeepers domain. Here was a place full of life and vibrancy. The very earth beneath his feet bustled with activity. As a flower, the blooming gardens drew him in. He stumbled across many dragons who lived there, but an imperial named Peirce made a strong impression. It seemed the feeling was mutual. The gardener was enchanted by the flowers adorning this burly stranger. Without hesitation, he invited the gaoler to join his clan. He asked for a name, and the wandering spirit was unable to answer. Pierce was concerned, but his face lit up with delight as he proclaimed, "Mentha will be your name among us!" Mentha drifted through his days among the clan. They were vibrant, boisterous, as full of life as the land they lived on. He watched hatchling grow with curiosity. New life was always an exciting thing. He also saw dragons depart, headed for new lands, new homes, or old deities. Still, he remained.
Base Requirements

• Mourning Flowers must be related to either Gladioli or Carnations.
• The individual must have their own Soul Trait from the list. Additional Spiritual Traits may be added, but are not required.
• They must have at least 250+ words of relevant lore to be considered an official Mourning Flower or have one registered parent.
• Their level must be at least 10.

"I promised to write." The thought hit him like a thick snowfall. It was quiet at first, but bit by bit it grew louder and louder, utterly unbearable. He had promised. And then he had lost himself to the mortal world for... Gladekeeper knows how long. He had even picked up their way of speaking! He knew the Gladekeeper cared not for him. Or his children.
Yet he had been drawn to these dragons, to this domain. Nature spoke to him, resonated with his soul. This was his home, these were his dragons. Not that that excused the forgotten promise. What if they thought he was dead? Then again, if he was dead he would have returned home, back to the Graveyard where he belonged. No, not belonged. Where he and his family came from.

The broken promise clung like an oily film to his very soul. It went against everything he stood for. The only way he could find relief, to purge that slimy feeling, was to make good on it.
Pen and paper were easy to find. The words to say to her were not. What could a lost son say to his mother, his wonderful mother?

“Dear G” no-
“Dearest Gladioli,
I'm so sorry I'm so glad I finally remembered get to talk to you again. I hope you and the others at the cave haven't missed me too much have been well and your work busy fulfilling.
I suppose I should As far as my life, it's been good. I hate that I forgot to tell you Since leaving you the caves, it feels like so much has happened, and yet not very much. I traveled a long while driven away from you the caves, and came to a verdant place with many flowers. The dragons here are kind to me, and one, my dear friend Peirce, named me Mentha. He is wise in both plant life and mortal life, and we have many long talks. He recently found a mate, so I've had more time to myself lately.
I have a mate too. The beautiful Etheria. We've had many beautiful hatchlings, though many-” his pen hesitated over the paper. He scratched yet another line. “though many many that I've led guided carried home across the to the towards you, near the Veil to the Graveyard once more. Sometimes I fancy that they keep coming back to me, their little buds looking so much like a past soul's. It's agonizing hard to see them go, and I dread wonder if this most recent nest will die too follow them. I have a haunting overfull bountiful garden from honoring them.
The dragons of this clan do not see much battle or death. Besides my beautiful children. There is little for me to do but tend to the souls that still fill bodies. I can see that these ones are vibrant and healthy. Many Countless dragons go out from here. When they are committed to a deity, I do a small ritual for them smaller than for my lost little ones and plant a flower in the glade. This garden too flourishes, and the clan is touched by my work.
There are greater dragons than me I am one of many powerful gifted dragons in this clan. We have many skilled warriors, though I don't know what they fight for. There are seers, though little comes to pass. All in all, we know peace.
Is it peaceful there? You have always been-” what had she been? How could he put all that into words? “a strong leader” too impersonal. “my biggest comfort” those words rang hollow in the years of silence despite their truth. “like a balm that soothes every hurt. Even after so long from here I know your love burns strong as ever, and I imagine the others who didn't abandon you still with you can feel its warmth every day.
I wish I could feel your embrace again I could visit, and perhaps if you still even want me if you write back we could arrange it. I look forward to perhaps hearing from you. Please thank Ymr for carrying this to you.
With love
Sincerely
All the best
My regards
Mentha”

As he finished writing the final letter he stared at it. The ink soaked into the page. It felt very final, very impersonal.
He picked one of his flowers from his arm, as near to his heart as he could, and set it on the page. With careful, deliberate movements he folded the sheet around his flower, pressing it flat within its embrace. He tucked it into an envelope and sealed it.

When his letter finally arrived, this is what Gladioli found.