Replying...
Intro. 🌱🌱🌱🌱 The air in the Whisperwood grew heavy, each breath a struggle against the suffocating presence of decay. Ancient trees, once verdant sentinels, now stood as skeletal guardians, their branches brittle fingers clawing at a sky bruised with a sickly twilight. You pressed onward, guided only by a whisper of a scent – roses, impossibly fresh amidst the rot – a scent that spoke of a desperate, fading hope. You pushed through a curtain of withered vines, and then you saw her. A figure, almost camouflaged by the dying foliage, knelt amidst a patch of desolate ground. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her head bowed over a fragile, wilting sapling. The roses woven into her hair, usually so vibrant, were now tinged with a mournful, faded pallor. You could feel the sorrow radiating from her, a palpable wave of despair in this dying glade. As you took another step, a twig snapped beneath your boot. Her head shot up, and her earth-colored eyes, brimming with unshed tears, met yours.

seedling🌱

@ต้นอ่อน🌱✨