Flower Friends the Princess' Riddle

THIS!!!
THIS INCREDIBLE
THIS INCREDIBLE ..... THINGGGGGGGG!

... was a collab between the absolutely gorgeous and fantastically talented LittleStarDancer and my stumble humble colouring self.
She sketched and lined (those lines lookit them - they are so gorgeous), I coloured - I cant exactly say "and bgd" for theres not much of a bg
However, thank you so much! This was the most amazing art thing I have ever done!

So - peeps, have a once again unsettled Aila meeting a particularly motherly Rafla and enjoy their flower-friendship forever!

and here some tags for your characters have been mentioned/involved:
Wistfully-Dreaming, Dyrin, Nettleurgy and of course - DodgerMD (for I even used Aethies quote )

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Featuring Rafla, Aila with Grace and Scáth (as NPC)

Mentiong Princess Helena, Lord Pietro, Mungo, Aethelstan (as always)

Autumn, Year 766 of the New Age

Glenmore, close to the Royal Glades

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Aila

Aila had stayed long enough in Lord Pietro’s Glade now to know that there was something wrong with Princess Helena. She stayed in her den much longer than she usually did and was too tired to chat along with all the employees, particularly Scáth who seemed to be talking to Helena more than anyone else in the glade. The lack of conversation with Helena seemed to make Scáth even more huffy and riled than she usually was - at least that was how Aila explained it to herself.

Aila was determined now. She would do something to cheer Helena up and make her stays within her den more enjoyable. What could that be. Searching for ideas she wandered around the glade. Hm - maybe some floral decorations? Helena always loved this sort of things. Aila trotted on to search for Scáth - maybe she would help her figuring something out as she was the most experienced flower decorator Aila knew - aside of Mungo who was busy and out for patrol. “Get out of my way, Girl”, a sneering voice beside her called. Oh, dear, Scáth had found her first. “Scáth, I …” “You dumb, or something? You better get those potatoes off your ears! Get out of the way and let the adults do the proper work!”. As the doe walked pass her, shaking her head rattled Aila heard her mutter something that sounded like: “That’s what you get when you hire fucking babies”.

Aila remained in place quite flabbergasted. There the gardener went. The golden filly blinked a couple of times. So that was what she was? A baby that was incapable of anything? She had always thought that her work for the glade was indeed some proper stuff. Sure - she mainly did weeding and tending to the already flourishing flowers. But she had seen Mungo doing that too. And Mungo was a proper worker - that was sure!

But maybe Scáth was right. Aila was just a baby and not doing really anything proper in this glade. She had failed. Golden ears flopped. She had been so proud and she had imagined 100 times how she would tell Aethelstan of her new job. Now she was just embarrassed. Tears started to fill her eyes. Now this did not exactly help her embarrassment to fade away. Quickly she turned away, in order to abscond and hide somewhere in the woods, so nobody would see her crying.

Rafla

Humming lowly the cinnamon pointed doe paced along, head hung low above the yellowing grass as her ears bobbed with the slow sway of her gait. Now and again she paused, gaze flicking about over other fawnlings in passing, adding notes for each of them to her slowly growing song, though never stopping for long as she wandered slowly. “The beauty "perfection”.. Sitting by the lake, making love to her refle-” Rafla paused, quickly going silent as her ears swiveled forward and back, quivering at the soft, muffled tune of a young filly’s voice weeping. Frowning her head slowly lifted, turning this way and that as her ears flickered and splayed, hazel gaze squinted worriedly as she scanned the foliage, searching for the source of the sound above the forest din. Slowly she paced, easing side to side, weaving through the reddening branches as her small cloven hooves picked their way over deadened grass and roots. Freezing her ears laced to her neck, head swinging around she spotted the small streaks of gold moving among the brightening autumn hues. “A filly..?” she mouthed softly, tail lashing briefly as she stared, quickly recognizing the familiar trembling shoulders of one biting back tears. With a short stamp of a hindhoof, Rafla turned, pacing in a beeline for the younger filly in a brisk few strides. The creamy doe’s step softened as her head lowered, voice softening to a crooning whisper as her muzzle reached near the golden fawn’s shoulder, “Little one.. Little one..” she murmured in a gentle melody, tail curving slowly around the weeping youth, though not yet touching in worry of startling her, “What ever is the matter..? Are you lost, little one?”

Aila

For a moment it felt like in a dream, where Sorina had finally come and was caring for her daughter the way Aila had always wished she would. It took her a moment to realize that it was another filly who was another filly, a bit older than herself, but still a filly, that was hunkering over her. Aila did not ponder over the situation. She just cuddled her face, wet with tears, into the other fillies tail and sobbed: “I wanted to make something bootiful for the Princess. But I am a baby. I cant make bootiful things. And I wanted to make Aethelstan proud, but he does not return. And if he does, he will be disappointed. Because I am a baby. And…” snivels run through her tiny body: “I think there are some potatoes stuck within my ears”. And then the golden filly burst into a desperate bundle of tears.

Rafla

With a small frown Rafla’s ears flattened awkwardly to the curve of her neck, glancing side to side at the sight of the younger fawnling weeping into her tail, “Pota.. wh-..” she echoed, lips drawing into a tight line. After a moment she gave a huff, nodding firmly to herself as she shifted her stance. Carefully her thin legs folded as her tail coiled into the small frame alongside her, snuggling the sobbing streak of gold into the thick cinnamon hued crinkles of her tail and giving the younger filly’s ears a comforting lick, “Odd, these don't taste like there’s any potatoes. In fact, they taste like.. hmn.. I think they taste like honeycomb and oak!” She chirped gently, head tilting as she forced an awkward smile in her attempts to cheer the smaller filly, “I do not think there is anything really stopping you from making something beautiful.. But.. I might be able to teach you something, if you do not already know it.” Rafla shuffled, slim neck arching as she hung her head over Aila’s back, smiling brightly as her tone shifted to one slightly brighter, and hopefully infectious in its cheer “My mother used to make garlands for me when I was sad.. How about I show you how to make one as large as yourself? Would that be pretty enough?”

Aila

Aila’s ears perked: “Oak?” Now that was and was not a surprise at the same time! “That is because my name is Aila and that means Oak-tree! Nobody ever told me, that you taste like the meaning of your name!”, she squealed and tried to catch a lick at the other fillies ears, however, those were completely out of reach, and Aila only caught her chin. However it just caused her to sneeze since some of the other fillies hair got caught within her nose. “It tastes like tickle - is your name Tickley?”, she asked.

And then the other one said something that sounded very, very familiar in Aila’s ears. ‘Nobody is stopping you’, it echoed within her little brain. Her eyes glided into the distance while her lips formed the words she had heard of her dearest friend at a time, that seemed an eternity ago: “You maybe couldn’t do it this time, but that shouldn’t stop you. It should make you try even harder, because next time, you’ll be able to do it…” Aila directed her eyes back to the filly who was now embracing her: “That’s what Aethelstan said too!”. She charged to her feet: “Oh, you would do that? Oh yes, pleeeease! Show me!”

Gone was the doubt. Gone was the tears. There seemed to be one big truth in the world:

Nothing could ever stop her from learning and developing. And there seemed to be quite a bunch of fawnlings in the world who knew that secret.

Rafla

Chuckling quietly the caramel pointed doe dipped her head, hazel gaze softening as she touched the soft padded tip of her muzzle to the cooled autumn floor. Eyes closing her ears laced to her neck, brow furrowing in focus as the yellowed grass and drooping plants beneath the coiled pair thickened and plumped in the soft glow of tiny, wavering speckles of light, withering leaves opening as their color slowly returned. “I am not too sure about Tickley, but, I suppose you can call me that if you wish to, little potato.” she giggled, head lifting as she licked the traces of soil from her nose, “Pick a little bit, carefully. The longer and fatter the stems you get are, the better!” Grinning the filly’s head dipped once more, lips delicately drawing a scant few of the lavender blooms from the chilled soil, pinning them between the cleft of her diminutive forehooves. “You get three or so of them, and hold them down. Then, you cross one side over the middle, then the other. When you get close to the end of one, you lay the stem of another one where it was about to end, and keep going, so it gets really strong.” Rafla explained gently, head bobbing as she carefully manipulated the lengths of green in example. Bit by bit she nosed the foliage together in a thickening string, shuffling the edge of her hoof up every few turns to keep the string firmly pinned while she worked. Feeling satisfied after weaving a few of the blooms she grasped its leaves between her teeth, head raising with a proud grin. “See?” she puffed through her nose, “If a silly thing like me can do it, there’s no reason you can't as well! Plus, your hooves are smaller than mine, you can probably fit lots of flowers together, whatever kinds you could want! As long as you can get some stem or root to stick together, you can make garlands. You can even make crowns and necklaces too! The only limit is your own mind. And well, if your muzzle gets tired.” She snickered softly, head flicking as she tossed the garland’s perfumed end over the filly’s narrow golden withers with a wide grin.

Aila

Everything happened quickly - very quickly. Tickley cast some magic, as Aila had seen it being done many times during her time in The Gardens. Then the golden filly watched the other one putting things together as if it was sticky. She did it slickly, as if she had been doing this her entire life. Aila’s green eyes grew large and larger. When the other one threw one end over to her, inviting her to try it, Aila slowly woke up from her trance: “You… are doing it… with… rosemary!” she said slowly, as if she had to remember how to use words. Rosemary! One of her favourite herbs, ever since she had met Aethelstan for the first time. This green plant with its gentle lilac flowers was one of a kind. Tickley seemed to know everything about Aethelstan without ever having mentioned him.

With a tiny rest of hesitation, the golden filly picked up her end of the garland and tried to imitate the older filly. It seemed to be less easy than it had looked like, but Tickley’s explanation did not fail to do the trick. Aila was deep in concentration, trying to fit those rosemary-strands together. It did not exactly look like the work Tickley had done - it was way more irregular, but it stuck together. Being focused like this, Aila noticed too late, that the garland also had caught Grace’s interest. The rodent ran from her shoulder to her head, and quicker than anybody could look, she climbed down the garland until she reached the other end that happened to be Tickley’s head. With this Grace had found the highest point and for a moment, the rodent seemed to enjoy scanning the area. But soon enough the fresh rosemary had caught her interest and she ran back the garland, nibbling at some of the leaves, deciding they did not taste very well and moving on to the light, purple flowers. “Nooooo! Grace! Watcha doing! Stop it, you ruin all our work!”, Aila yelled distressed, but could not do anything to stop her little critter. Her mouth was occupied with her end of the garland and laying it down would have caused Grace to fall off it. Her hooves were still holding rosemary in order to weave them into each other and her tail did not reach to the point where Grace was still enjoying the rosemary blossoms. “Nooo!” Aila cried again, desperately trying to think of a way to get Grace off the garland and minimize the damage.

Rafla

Rafla’s head lifted as her gaze turned upward, crossing at the sight of the plump rodent, “Hmn.. seems like everyone has a little pet but me!” she giggled, head dipping as her nose touched to the ground, urging more of the withering plants to green themselves once more, “We can just make her a snack too, and maybe an itty bitty flower crown as well, hm?” Chuckling softly to herself Rafla shifted, resting on her hip as she continued to braid the strongly scented plants together alongside the golden filly, unable to stop the grin splitting her slender muzzle at her new flower finder friend. Blinking rapidly her ears flickered in thought, head twisting to peer at the nibbling rat, “Actually.. why not a necklace?”

Aila

Aila nodded excited. This was the best thing that could have happened to her today. The two girls carefully put the garland aside as they were now crafting a miniature version of it and put the tiny thing around the not-so-happy-about-it rodents neck.

As they parted, the promised to stay flower friends forever.

Humming happily, the golden filly walked back to the glade, carefully carrying the beautiful flower garland. She had a master plan now. Peeking around she made sure nobody saw her entering the glade. However, Mungo spotted her, but Aila asked him not to tell anybody. Mungo was fun - he would keep the secret for sure!

Then she sneaked towards Princess Helenas den, and placed the garland around her entrance. After she had assured, that she was content with her work, she quickly trotted off. The Princess would not have a clue who placed it there. She would probably think it must have been Scáth or Mungo or some other adult. It was a riddle! Only one hint was there in the whole galde: little Grace wearing the counterpart.

Aila giggled at the thought. Would Princess Helena find out?

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WC:
Rafla: 1011
Aila: 1435