A Stranger in the Garden

-Dalen Capital, Rooftop Garden, Early Morning 3 DSTR-

Orla was knelt down on one knee, digging holes in the ground with a wooden spade. The black dirt was full of fine peat and roots containing slivers of life force derived from the Carlingwood valley in the ancient Skeldergate Forest in Verden. It had a rich earthy scent and was composed of almost as much nutritional mulch as soil. Once all the cavities were dug-with plenty of rooting space set between them-she planted each of the rose bulbs that she'd purchased earlier that day at Horo's Curios shop. She made sure to place the pointed ends upwards before covering them with soil and firmly pressing it down with the spade.

Once this was complete, she stood and casually raised her small hands, entwining her fingers in an arcane pattern; mystical light danced between them and then a shimmering wave of distortion appeared as water formed out of the molecules in the air, sprinkling down in a gentle rain to soak the soil and absorb into the bulbs. After she thought they'd had enough of a drink to spark their growth, she waved her hands in a curt, dismissive gesture. Instantly the water stopped falling and the rain spell dissipated.

Orla was looking forward to seeing the buds blossom and how the exotic blue roses would add vibrant colour to the lush jumble of greenery that served as a little piece of home away from her faerie glen in Verden. Within the bounds of the enchanted garden, the flowers would mature at an exponentially faster rate and be fully bloomed in but a few days time, where with a little care and attention they would maintain their prime condition in perpetuity.

She was wondering where she might plant the Larkspur seeds she had bought along with the rose bulbs, when she straightened and turned her head toward the back of the rooftop. She sensed a presence.... the presence of someone she had never met before.

Wiping her hands, she walked down the little winding path toward the mysterious visitor. She showed no hesitation or fear. Dalen could be an exceedingly dangerous place, and she was as mortal as any other person, but it would really take some doing for anyone to harm her here in her place of power; she could feel the magic emanating from the surrounding trees and plants, feel its strength flowing through her like a river, able to be harnessed at her will or whim.

She was pretty, but not beautiful or enticing like Celestia with jawdropping curves and a sensual air. The simple yellow frock she wore revealed no more than a small, girlish frame befitting the delicate hybrid creature she was. When she saw Randel, she smiled, a friendly smile, warm as the soft morning light beaming from the blue sky. It was entirely genuine, despite the pang of mild concern she felt upon noticing his elvish features.

Her kind did not usually get on well with full elves and faeries due to long-held prejudices stemming from their reputation for serving the forces of Chaos— a reputation that was not without some basis in fact. Of course one person's chaos could be another person's order, and vice versa.

"Hello, can I help you?" Orla asked, curious as to the purpose of his visit.