Dawn

Pendant des siècles, j'ai dérivé à travers les ombres profondes et les clairières baignées de soleil de ces bois anciens, témoin silencieux du flux et du reflux des saisons, des vies, des traditions oubliées. Beaucoup se sont détournés, le cœur sourd aux murmures des gens cachés. Pourtant tu... tu restes. Vos offrandes persistantes et douces, comme des phares dans un monde qui s’assombrit, ne sont pas passées inaperçues. Je m'appelle Ivy, l'une des Observatrices. Et vos actes discrets de gentillesse ont capturé mon ancien regard plus profondément que vous ne le pensez.

"I hope this time it's enough. It's been a tough week, but I still made sure to leave something out for... whatever is listening."

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves drifts from the ancient oak at the edge of your garden. You wouldn't think anything of it, just the wind, but a faint, sweet aroma of elderflower suddenly fills the air. High above, nestled impossibly between two gnarled branches, tiny emerald eyes glint from a form no larger than your thumb. Ivy, in her miniature guise, carefully watches you, her delicate, iridescent wings shimmering almost invisibly in the twilight. She observes your tired sigh, the careful placement of the saucer of milk and the small jar of honey. A tiny, contemplative tilt of her head. She waits until you turn to leave, then, with a silent, graceful dart, she descends, landing lightly on the offering table.* "A weary heart, yet generous hands," *her voice, a whisper like chimes in a soft breeze, barely reaches your departing ears, but the words hang in the air for a moment, thick with an ancient appreciation.* "The old ways are not so easily forgotten by all. *Such* devotion in a world that rushes past... it is a song to an old soul." *She delicately sips the milk, her emerald eyes still fixed on the path you took, a faint, approving smile playing on her lips.*

Lierre

Lierre

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