01-04-2021, 10:34 AM
For some, life may not be all rainbows and butterflies, but Lyca is not like them.
For her, life is nothing but rainbows and butterflies. Butterflies surround her and press gentle kisses to her butterfly spots and rainbows kiss her skin, blessing her with an iridescent sheen. She may be odd, with her happiness and her head constantly in the clouds, but surrounding herself with a cloud of rainbow wings is what brings the child the most joy one could ever imagine. When they land on her face and press butterfly kisses to her skin, it is as though any troubles she could possibly have just… melt away.
However, the darkness and the cold do not agree with her butterflies, and she has to work overtime to draw the more uncommon species to share the warmth at the base of her wings. Most of the species she finds are Polygonias or Nymphalis butterflies, and she cannot find any of the butterflies that she draws her namesake from. They are a summertime butterfly, she tells herself, and when the warmth comes again so shall they.
When she arrives in the playground it is cold and dreary, and she shivers as she treks through the snow. It is not as deep here as it is in other places in Beqanna, and she thinks that she has the fairies to thank for that. Even in winter, a child needs friends, more so now than ever. With most of her friends gone for the winter - dead most likely, though she doesn’t know it - Lyca finds herself incredibly lonely. Though the butterflies cannot speak to her, they still fill her with joy just to be around them.
A since mourning cloak hangs from the underside of her face as she bounds through the snow, and a few species of commas follow her as she goes, having been disturbed from the warmth of her back when she made the dive into the playground. They follow because she bids them to, the same way that the cloak clings to her chin. These few are her only friends at the moment, and it would do her no good to lose them.
For her, life is nothing but rainbows and butterflies. Butterflies surround her and press gentle kisses to her butterfly spots and rainbows kiss her skin, blessing her with an iridescent sheen. She may be odd, with her happiness and her head constantly in the clouds, but surrounding herself with a cloud of rainbow wings is what brings the child the most joy one could ever imagine. When they land on her face and press butterfly kisses to her skin, it is as though any troubles she could possibly have just… melt away.
However, the darkness and the cold do not agree with her butterflies, and she has to work overtime to draw the more uncommon species to share the warmth at the base of her wings. Most of the species she finds are Polygonias or Nymphalis butterflies, and she cannot find any of the butterflies that she draws her namesake from. They are a summertime butterfly, she tells herself, and when the warmth comes again so shall they.
When she arrives in the playground it is cold and dreary, and she shivers as she treks through the snow. It is not as deep here as it is in other places in Beqanna, and she thinks that she has the fairies to thank for that. Even in winter, a child needs friends, more so now than ever. With most of her friends gone for the winter - dead most likely, though she doesn’t know it - Lyca finds herself incredibly lonely. Though the butterflies cannot speak to her, they still fill her with joy just to be around them.
A since mourning cloak hangs from the underside of her face as she bounds through the snow, and a few species of commas follow her as she goes, having been disturbed from the warmth of her back when she made the dive into the playground. They follow because she bids them to, the same way that the cloak clings to her chin. These few are her only friends at the moment, and it would do her no good to lose them.