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yurishippingolympics
For this bonus round, we're looking for prompts inspired by plant/flower symbolism and the language(s) of flowers!
Here are some resources on flower meanings:
Script Florist
Farmer's Almanac
Wikipedia: Hanakotoba
Wikipedia: Plant Symbolism
This round will end on July 1st.
Fills can be in any format, and you can fill your teammates prompts, but you cannot fill your own prompt.
You can post as many fills and as many prompts as you want!
for your prompt post title, please use the following format:
PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
for your fill post title, please use the following format:
FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each
PROMPT: ADMIN EXAMPLE
Date: 2024-06-16 06:10 pm (UTC)FILL: Team Kittyuri
Date: 2024-06-19 10:09 pm (UTC)i wasn't sure if different colors of camellias have different meanings and i kind of just went with the first picture i found in google so sorry if there are any inconsistencies!!
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“Please help me!” Kitty begs, hands clasped together. She knows what she must look like–dirt smudged on her robes and twigs tangled up in her hair. She’s a Category 5 on the hurricane scale but she’s desperate–beyond desperate. She passed desperation three hours ago when she transcended to a new level of being. “Professor Lee is going to fail me if I can’t find this stupid flower for this stupid spell and it’s due tomorrow and I’ve spent the whole afternoon searching the forest and I still can’t find it so will you please help me look?”
Yuri blinks at her, a spellbook propped open in her hands.
“Sorry, what?” she asks blankly. Kitty sucks in a breath and tries again. The little Alex on her shoulder reminds her that Not everyone’s on Kitty time. And that her assignment is still due in 8 hours. Great.
“I need to find a stupid flower to pass Professor Lee’s stupid assignment. Please help me.” She doesn’t get on her knees but it’s a close thing.
“Oh!” Yuri laughs, snapping the book shut. She hops off the desk and Kitty watches her cross the length of the room. “Right–the assignment for Magical History. First of all, it’s not a stupid flower. It’s the school’s emblem and no wonder you’re having trouble finding one–the whole forest’s probably been picked clean at this point.”
Kitty groans and slumps against the wall. Yuri and her are friends–are they friends? Yuri keeps dragging her on these outings when she’s bored, despite having a friend group larger than Kitty’s student debt but she’s never said no to one of Kitty’s favors and she’s saved her ass more than twice. Regardless, Yuri and her are… mutual acquaintances at the least but sometimes Kitty forgets her tendency to be unmercifully blunt. She’s speared through the heart by Yuri’s honesty.
“But you’re in luck! I happen to know a secret spot where a couple grow.”
Yuri takes a step into the sunlight and Kitty lingers in the doorway, uncertain if she’s meant to follow.
“Does this mean that you’ll help me?” she asks, squinting. The outline of her frame is glowing and Kitty can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light or a spell. The spell of love, the unhelpful Minho on her shoulder pipes up and she mentally flicks him to the ground.
She’s not in love with the prettiest girl in school. Actually, scratch that–who isn’t? Everyone’s a little bit in love with the prettiest girl in school–it’s only natural. Everyone thinks Yuri’s beautiful and Kitty’s no exception. Yeah, she’s fine. Everything is fine.
“Of course, silly!” Yuri laughs. She grabs Kitty’s wrist when she’s not satisfied with the pace and Kitty almost trips over her own two feet. “We’re friends after all!”
Ah. So Yuri does consider them friends.
“Yep, friends,” Kitty smiles, nodding, because don’t all friends daydream of kissing each other behind the school? It must be a natural reaction to the close proximity.
“Why’d you wait so long to start on Professor Lee’s assignment? They’re always absurdly difficult.”
“Ughhhhhh,” Kitty groans at the reminder, using her free hand to smother her face. “It wasn’t my choice! I’m so behind after transferring and I’ve been busy doing make-up exams and late assignments that this homework completely snuck up on me. Everything at KISS has been so… different compared to back home. You know, I used to be considered something of a genius in my town.”
“Were you now?”
“Hey, stop smiling! It’s true! You should ask my sisters when they come,” Kitty grumbles. She fights to keep the frown screwed onto her face but Yuri’s responding giggle may as well be a white flag. It’s a battle that she’s destined to always lose.
“Well, Kitty, I’d say you’re doing much better than when you first came. No desks have been blown up recently, no wands broken, no–”
“No! Don’t say it!”
“No frogs eaten either!” Yuri tacks on gleefully and Kitty feels her heart squeeze inside her chest. “I’d say you have a pretty good track record for the week.”
“Thanks, but it’s about to get spoiled unless I find this stupid–” Yuri raises one warning eyebrow. “Sorry, very-noble-and-cool-flower-that-represents-the-pride-and-future-of-KISS-Arcane-Academy. Better?”
“Much,” Yuri replies, tipping her head to smile. Kitty turns her face away, cheeks flushed.
“Where are you taking us, anyways?” she asks in a desperate attempt to change the subject before she combusts.
“My mother’s garden,” Yuri replies. She’s swinging their hands in time with their steps and Kitty finds it cute. Agh, no, she means logical!
“Wait. You want us to steal flowers from the principal’s garden?” Kitty’s heels dig into the dirt but Yuri yanks her forward.
“Oh come on, she has like a hundred! She won’t miss one and besides–it’s to help her student learn. She’d be all over that… probably slap it in a brochure too, actually.” Yuri tugs her another two steps forwards. “Besides, you don’t want to fail, right?”
Kitty works her lip between her teeth.
“You sure she won’t get mad?”
“Positive,” Yuri replies and Kitty’s heartbeat levels to something vaguely resembling normal. “As long as she doesn’t find out it was you.” Scratch that–she needs a healer on the scene, stat.
“I hope Principal Lim knows that I wouldn’t do this unless I didn’t have any other options,” Kitty mutters, swallowing past the lump in her throat. They’re crossing a stream now and Yuri wades into the water to hold her hand across the wooden plank.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Yuri replies with concerning ease. Kitty wonders how many other of Principal Lim’s belongings have gone mysteriously missing over the years. She swears (again) to never get on Yuri’s bad side.
“Okay, we’re here,” Yuri says, pulling at the latch of a wooden fence. It stands alone in the field, nothing but miles and miles of empty grass behind it.
“Are you sure–”
“Shh, I need to focus.” Yuri runs her thumb hard across the tip until it draws blood and the gate squeaks loudly before it swings open to reveal a garden behind it, like a little pocket dimension that they duck into. There’s a neatly trimmed rosebush tucked in the corner and an apple tree stretching up above the flowers. The leaves are laced with tiny lights.
“She must have been taking care of this place for a while,” Kitty says, bending down to inspect a row of tulips. They span all the colors of the rainbows–oranges ones for a telepathy spell, tall, yellow ones for the transformation spells, light purple ones for illusions.
“Must have,” Yuri replies and uproots a flower without a second thought. Kitty shrieks in sympathy.
“Here,” Yuri says, holding it out to her. Kitty reaches for it cautiously like the stem is on fire. She feels like Eve in the garden taking a forbidden fruit. “It’s for you.”
The pink flower Yuri hands her is beautiful. It has cascades of petals in endless rings around the center and it smells sweet when she lifts it up to her nose. However, what it is not is the purple weird shrub-looking thing that the school uses as its emblem.
“This isn’t the flower for my assignment,” Kitty says slowly. Yuri stares at her wordlessly before smiling.
“I know!” Kitty blinks.
“W-Well then, what is this?” Yuri’s turned around by this point but she pauses to toss a smile over her shoulder.
“You’re a genius–figure it out!”
FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-22 08:39 pm (UTC)word count: 1,644
no warnings required!
The day is ripe and warm. With burning fingers, the sunlight peeks between tree-leaves and, like a frivolous child, scatters a few golden favours upon the rows of its elect: flat yellow roses and bright honeysuckle, lilies vase-like, and pungent. A horde of ungrateful beneficiaries. Each nodding head held a disdainful glint to it, a sickly, imitative yellow that said, in no uncertain terms, that the sun gave them nothing that they did not already own. Cruel things, donning the colours and sweetness of the sun, playing at a pretence of detachment whilst they lapped up what they could never possess: her warmth.
Phila allows herself a sigh, and circles the beds. Between her boots the grass curls upwards, leaning against the leather, and staining it with a mincing, fawning attitude that she can't quite brings herself to tolerate. It had rained, almost continuously, two days prior. She'd been forced to herd her outraged pupils towards the shelter of the stables, only to compound their indignation by conducting an impromptu class on pegasi grooming which had carried them through the worst of the storm.
She had certainly found the class instructive. A few hours of their fumbling had caused a swift mental note made: set aside some hours to talk through the different equipment. She could not afford the conflation of a body and a mane brush again, for the sake of the pegasi’s coat and the good name of Ylisse.
And yet, whilst she had recieved further education on the need for a refresher on pegasi care (when was the last time she had brought them inside, taught them something a little more... meditative?) Phila couldn't help but direct a fragment of her attention back towards the castle. This was a frequent occurrence, and where her students struggled to distinguish one bristle form another, they were plenty sharp, able to take quick notice of this, and - if a fit of boldness took them - make a few teasing remarks, wondering aloud what the Exalt would think of her sudden absent-mindedness.
This was usually sufficient to dispel any such mental wayfaring, and the ill-fated recruit who had let the comment slip would find themselves sweeping the stables after class. But the rain has a quality of nostalgia to it, blurring the world at the edges. That day, Phila had surrendered herself to her thoughts, given herself over to the chance of glimpsing a halo in the window with a little more involvement than she had previously.
A hope that was dashed from the start, really. No doubt Emmeryn was pacing the carpets of her private chamber, the only tell of her fraught inner dialogue being that gentle furrow which was pinched as a kiss between her eyebrows, miles away from the windows which faced into the courtyard.
She had been deeply preoccupied the last few days; the serenity of her expression as they walked the streets of Ylisse in marches and parades more troubled than usual. How best to manage the fury of the houses of Lowood and Daphnaie? A failed marriage proposal, offence, threats of a civil war that could break the nation. These concerns were the preserve of an Exalt, but that did not stop Phila’s thoughts from flying to her side, silent and far from the eyes of most.
She knew though, the moment she left the stables, cleared the worst of the rain from her boots, and made her way into the castle, that her Exalt had landed upon a solution.
‘Phila, I have something to ask of you.’
It was clear, to her, in the way she leaned against the throne, allowing it to support her back which, in tumult, forced itself straight of its own volition. Evident too, in the ease with which her voice received her in the throne room, drawing her, still slightly damp, closer, and closer, until she could see that familiar closed-lip grin, more suited for the face of the young princess.
Such an expression betokened the genius mischief that only the Exalt could devise. Already, she was kneeling.
‘Of course, Your Grace. I strive to attend to your will.’
A hand brushed against her cheek. It was warm, spreading a dry heat across the rain which beaded her skin. Emmeryn.
‘Please, stand. I’ll need your full attention if we are to succeed.’
‘We?’
‘Yes,’ whispered the exalted one, the memory of a smile on her lips. ‘Phila, you and I are to play matchmaker.’
Who better to serve Love’s intent than a winged messenger? The letters were sent, personally, by the head of the Pegasus Knights to each royal house. Phila had presented one, and then the other with their letter, and noted the way that their distaste had morphed into a sickly simper once they realised the commoner heralded the Exalt’s word.
Needless to say, they had agreed to meet with Her Grace at the soonest possible convenience. Who would deny so excellent an opportunity? The rain had deferred an immediate invitation, but today the sun was bright, and Emmeryn’s promises of bright lights and sweet smells had augured true.
It was strange, that matters so fundamental to the stability of their peace relied upon the whims of the clouds. That whether the farmers of a land would be forced to stomp their crops into a battlefield lay on the success of a sunny turn around the Royal Gardens. Such was the genius of the new regime. War was an ugly non-presence in these dove-days.
And yet, Phila was, ultimately, a soldier. She was a strange corrugation in the scenery, steely grey and smelling of iron. Her early arrival had done little to negate this fact. It had always been a foolish notion. To pretend that this setting became her, to be greeted there as if she had grown amongst the carefully cultivated, thornless buds, was a fantasy. She was nothing but points and sharp edges.
The gate groaned, almost swallowing the gentle steps that followed.
‘Emmeryn.’ Phila whispers to the crawling ivy.
‘My knight.’ And she’s before her, hair combed and parted to bear the royal coat of arms, the emblem of her ascension. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, and Phila knows without looking that her lips rivals the brightest of the sweet red berries. ‘Dutiful as ever. I knew you would be early.’
‘I am not alone in that, Your Grace. You have come at an early hour.’
‘I wished to take my own turn of the garden, before any tour is made. Lovers always drive one to solitude, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Perhaps. Please, call upon me when I am needed.’
And then her arm is being encircled by another’s, and her step is falling into line with a much surer tread.
‘I think you will find, Captain, that I have need of you now. Have you seen the lavender yet?’
She is promptly removed from the presence of those perfumed sprigs, pushing through the dirt as if their true origins were the heavens, strutting with a scent that sickened her at heart. They smell like the court; sweet, garish and perfumed.
The lavender is similarly overwhelming. Sticks of purple incense sway their perfume into the air, and directly into her nostrils. But Phila is resilient, and when Emmeryn’s arm is in hers, she would endure any and all olfactory offenses.
‘You do not like them.’
A statement and not a question.
‘No, Your Grace. They put me in mind of the Countess of Casian.’
An answer, and a truth. Emmeryn giggles, and Phila musters all her remaining willpower to bury the answering pattern her heart thumps.
‘Such a devout spiritual governess! Why, she had so many sage words of advice to impart, it was a miracle she possessed any of them for her own use by the end of the evening.’
The instinct to scan the area, to defend Emmeryn from the scandal of their words is lost in a matching clatter of laughter from Phila; it sounds strange and uneven, breathy with disuse. There is not a moment's pause though, before she is being pulled along to somewhere new.
‘Here, follow me.’
And Phila follows; there is no other choice.
They burst into a clearing, a grotto of green and bright white fists of petals which put Phila in the mind of the delicate inner leaves of the cabbages her mother would make soup with. A gesture to sit places her on damp dew, sparkling in the sunlight.
‘I had this planted specially, a relief from all the perfume.’
Phila inhales and smells nothing.
‘These camellias are scentless, I hope they are to your liking.’
There isn’t a hint of shyness in the Exalt’s expression as she reaches past Phila’s ear and plucks one. For a moment she twirls it between her hands, cradling the densely packed petals as they attempt to scatter in the wind. And then, moving quite easily past carefully trained defenses, she skirts Phila’s ear once more, depositing the flower to lie heavily there, drooping against its own weight.
‘Emmeryn-!’
‘No need to fuss. It suits you.’
She’s smiling, and Phila bites back the urge to move closer. But there is no such thing as a perfect silence, here, and the voices of the two suitors, raised to the highest peak of exasperation and surprise intrude.
‘Ah, I believe that is my cue. Once you’re ready, come along to oversee if you will. I’ll have need of your guidance to bridge this gap.’
She stands, shaking her skirts free of the dew.
‘Dispose of the flower as you wish.’
And then she’s gone, and Phila is left to linger with the honey scent of her closeness, alone in the scentless grotto. It is then that the camellia falls, finally, into her lap; bursting into stray white petals. Recovering what she can, Phila weighs her options.
The right thing to do would be to leave it, to soak up the dew, and perhaps live fresh for the rest of the day. But Phila cannot bring herself to relinquish it. As she stands beside her Exalt, observing the two lovers slowly smile over cups of tea, and sweet roses, the head of the camellia rots close to her chest, wilting over her heart.