| Latest revision |
Your text |
| Line 3: |
Line 3: |
| {{Neighbor Tabs}} | | {{Neighbor Tabs}} |
| {{Neighbor Stories | | {{Neighbor Stories |
| |s1_title = Before the Ball, Not a Strand Out of Place | | |s1_title = Before the Ball, Every Strand in Place |
| |s1_text = {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn Before the Ball, Not a Strand Out of Place Image 01|right}} | | |s1_reward = 100 |
| | |s1_text = It was the day before Medowlyn's coming-of-age ceremony.<br> |
| | When the matrons pushed open the door, they found her diligently making the final preparations for the Coiffure Ball.<br> |
| | As the tradition demanded, her hair was styled to perfection. Not a strand out of place. Not one too many, nor one too few. |
|
| |
|
| It was the day before Medowlyn's coming-of-age ceremony.
| | The Coiffure Ball was the traditional coming-of-age ceremony of her kind, known for its demanding standards of perfection. From a young age, children were taught to care for their hair with the utmost attention. The strict grooming rituals demanded they sit tall, move gracefully, and maintain perfect composure at all times.<br> |
| When the maids pushed open the door, they found her already at work, putting the final touches on her preparations for the Coiffure Ball.
| | The strands used to craft commemorative hairwork were, as the old song went, smooth as silk and near divine in quality: |
| As the tradition required, her hair was styled to perfection—
| |
| Not a strand out of place. Neither one too many, nor one too few.
| |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | ''No trace of impurity,''<br> |
| | ''No sign of breakage,''<br> |
| | ''No hint of frizz,''<br> |
| | ''No weight of sorrow.''<br> |
| | ''As smooth as satin,''<br> |
| | ''As gentle as song.''<br> |
| | ''Thus it grows.''<br> |
| | ''Thus it is flawless.'' |
|
| |
|
| The Coiffure Ball was the traditional coming-of-age ceremony of her kind, renowned for its exacting standards of perfection. From a young age, children were taught to tend to their hair with the utmost care. The strict grooming rituals required them to sit tall, move with grace, and maintain flawless composure at all times.
| | And Medowlyn was the finest among them — or rather, she was about to become the finest of all. |
| The strands used to craft the commemorative hairwork were, as the old song went, smooth as silk and near divine:
| |
|
| |
|
| <i>No trace of impurity,
| | The hair matrons helped Medowlyn curl the last of her strands. |
| No sign of breakage,
| |
| No hint of frizz,
| |
| No weight of sorrow.
| |
| As smooth as satin,
| |
| As gentle as song.
| |
| Thus it grows.
| |
| Thus it is flawless.</i>
| |
|
| |
|
| | Watching her sit so still and focused, one of the matrons closed the door softly behind her and sighed.<br> |
| | The poor child hadn't slept in two whole days, all for the sake of the ball. |
|
| |
|
| And Medowlyn was the finest among them — or rather, she was about to be.
| | Medowlyn didn't even notice the matrons' departure. She was too caught up in her frustration — the moment the hair passed through the bead string, it lost its shape, refusing to form the rounded, flower-shaped curve she needed. |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | She didn't notice, either, when a soft gurgling sound began to fill the room, as if something was quietly rolling somewhere nearby. |
|
| |
|
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn Before the Ball, Not a Strand Out of Place Image 02|left}}
| | |s2_title = Mischievous Yarn Balls! |
| | | |s2_reward = 200 |
| The lady's maids finished curling the last of Medowlyn's hair.
| | |s2_text = At first, it was just a round, fuzzy little thing that rolled past her in a blur.<br> |
| Watching her from behind as she sat so still and intent, they quietly closed the door with a soft sigh. The girl had not slept for two days and nights, all for the sake of the ball.
| | Medowlyn paid it no mind. She figured it was just something her tired eyes had made up after staying away too long.<br> |
| Medowlyn didn't notice them leave. She was too caught up in her frustration — Once threaded through the beads, her hair would slip loose again, refusing to hold the full, petal-like curve she was trying to shape.
| |
| Nor did she notice the sound that had begun to fill the room, a soft gurgling, as if something were slowly rolling somewhere nearby.
| |
| | |
| |s2_title = Mischievous Yarn Balls! | |
| |s2_text = | |
| At first, it was just a round, fuzzy little ball rolling past her in a blur. | |
| Medowlyn paid it no mind. She figured it was just something her tired eyes had made up after staying awake too long. | |
| But then came another. And another. More yarn balls skittered in by the second! | | But then came another. And another. More yarn balls skittered in by the second! |
|
| |
|
| Before she could even react, they had spread to every corner of the room. They bumped and tumbled into one another with rolling sounds, throwing everything into disarray! | | Before she could react, they had taken over the entire room. They crowded into every corner, gurgling as they bumped and bundled together, leaving a trail of chaos behind them!<br> |
| | Medowlyn stood frozen. She realized she couldn't find a single word to describe what she was seeing. |
|
| |
|
| Medowlyn stood frozen. For a moment, she could not find a single word to describe what she was seeing.
| | The yarn balls, like mischievous sprites, rolled about as they snatched up the delicate hair accessories in the room, giving each other makeshift hats and mustaches...<br> |
| | | Soon, they had turned into wobbly little creatures, decked out in hairpins and proud handlebar mustaches, doing their best to look like grown-ups!<br> |
| The yarn balls, like mischievous little sprites, rolled about as they snatched up the delicate hair accessories scattered around the room, perching them on one another as makeshift hats and mustaches... | |
| Before long, they had turned into a collection of lopsided little figures, crooked and absurd, adorned with hairpins, sporting tiny mustaches, and dressed up like grown-ups!
| |
| Everything was a mess! | | Everything was a mess! |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | Everything was a mess. Medowlyn tried to catch the unruly yarn balls, but they didn't give her the slightest chance.<br> |
| | | One after another, the flung the window open and tumbled out, bouncing away in a chaotic stream.<br> |
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn Mischievous Yarn Balls! Image 01|center}}
| | They even took her entire set of fancy combs, scissors, and curling iron with them as they vanished from sight. |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| Everything was a mess. Medowlyn lunged for the troublemaking yarn balls, but they gave her no chance. | |
| One after another, they rushed the window, bumping it open and bouncing out into the open air. In their wake, they carried off her delicate tools, combs, scissors, and curling irons, all swept away as they tumbled after them. | |
| | |
| Medowlyn rushed to the window and leaned out. Beyond it stretched a sea of clouds, soft as a bed of cotton.
| |
| Without a second thought, she jumped.
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn Mischievous Yarn Balls! Image 02|left}}
| |
| She had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like floating on clouds... Like a single feather drifting inside a downy pillow.
| |
| At last, she landed on something soft — a cushion of floofalicious grass.
| |
| | |
| |s3_title = A Garden of Wobbly Plushies
| |
| |s3_text =
| |
| "Where did a kid that big come from?" voices chirped somewhere in the garden.
| |
| Medowlyn opened her eyes. Towering above her were flowers, so tall they seemed to stretch far beyond her.
| |
|
| |
|
| <i>The flowers here... could talk?</i>
| | Medowlyn rushed to the window and looked outside. Below was a sea of clouds, soft as a bed of cotton.<br> |
| She pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dirt from her dress. Thankfully, her coiffure was still intact.
| | Without a second thought, she leapt after them. |
|
| |
|
| As her gaze wandered, she realized it wasn't just the flowers. Everything in the garden seemed to be watching her: a tiny clay pot, a single blade of grass, a little trowel, a clump of mud, even a patch of soil! They all stared with wide, curious eyes and wore friendly, if a little odd, expressions.
| | She had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like floating on clouds... Like a single feather drifting inside a downy pillow.<br> |
| They were far from perfect. Far from refined. Each of them was rough and earthy in its own way. And yet, Medowlyn felt a strange, familiar warmth.
| | At last, she landed on something soft — a cushion of floofy grass. |
| With a startled shriek, she turned and ran down the path.
| |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | |s3_title = A Garden of Wobbly Plushies |
| | |s3_reward = 300 |
| | |s3_text = "Where did such a big little kid come from?" Voices chirped from somewhere in the garden. |
| | Medowlyn opened her eyes. Towering above her were flowers, each one taller than she was. |
|
| |
|
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn A Garden of Wobbly Plushies Image 01|center}}
| | The flowers here... could talk? |
| | She stood up and brushed the dirt from her dress. Thankfully, her bun was still intact. |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | As her eyes wandered, she realized it wasn't just the flowers. Everything in the garden seemed to be watching her: a tiny clay pot, a single blade of grass, a little trowel, a clump of mud, even a patch of soil! |
| | They all stared with wide, curious eyes and wore expressions that were friendly, if a little odd. |
| | They were earthy, plain, a little messy, and yet somehow, they felt strangely familiar. |
|
| |
|
| The garden seemed to stretch on without end, while somewhere in the distance, a school bell rang.
| | She shrieked and ran off down the path. |
|
| |
|
| Medowlyn dashed toward the only classroom in sight, whose windowsill loomed far above her, and, with a burst of effort, she leapt up and pulled herself onto it.
| | The garden seemed to stretch on forever. Somewhere in the distance, a school bell rang. |
|
| |
|
| Through the window, she saw children sitting upright, completely absorbed in their craft lesson. And there, among their delicate, flawless creations, stood a little girl covered head to toe in dirt.
| | Medowlyn dashed toward the only classroom in sight. The windowsill was far too tall for her, but she gathered her strength and leapt up onto it. |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | Through the window, she was the little children sitting up straight, completely absorbed in their crafts lesson. |
| | And there, standing among their delicate and flawless creations, was a little girl covered head to toe in dirt. |
|
| |
|
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn A Garden of Wobbly Plushies Image 02|center}}
| | "Homework's done!" The little girl giggled, as if trying of shake off all the dirt clinging to her with nothing but laughter. |
| | In her hands was a lopsided, goofy-looking flowerpot... or maybe a plushie? Its face twisted into something between a grin and a sob, just like the strange ones Medowlyn had seen earlier in the garden. |
|
| |
|
| ----
| | The other children burst into laughter, pointing at the dirt smudged all over her hair. |
| | | The girl looked a little embarrassed. She mumbled, as if to explain, "Miss, I just thought the flower I passed earlier... kinda looked like it was smiling!" |
| "I'm done!" the little girl giggled, as if trying to shake the dirt from herself with laughter alone.
| |
| In her hands was a lopsided, goofy-looking flowerpot... or perhaps a plushie? Its face was caught somewhere between a smile and a sob, just like the strange little ones Medowlyn had seen earlier in the garden.
| |
| | |
| The other children burst into laughter, pointing at the dirt smudged through her hair. | |
| The girl looked a little embarrassed. She mumbled, as if to explain, "Miss, I just thought that flower I passed earlier... kind of looked like it was smiling!" | |
|
| |
|
| "Flowers don't smile," the teacher said with a frown. "That shape doesn't follow the standard pattern or proportions." | | "Flowers don't smile," the teacher said with a frown. "That shape doesn't follow the standard pattern or proportions." |
| "But that's okay, Miss!" The girl pulled the same playful face as her flowerpot. "It doesn't have to be perfect!" | | "It's okay, Miss!" The girl pulled the same silly face as her flowerpot. "Actually... it doesn't have to be perfect!" |
| "What I really made is..." | | "What I really made was—" |
| <b>"a moment of happiness turned into something that lasts!"</b>
| | '''"Art that turns happy moments into something that lasts forever!"''' |
| | |
| Outside the window, Medowlyn found herself speaking the words at the very same time.
| |
| | |
| So that was it. The little girl, and the garden, were both pieces of who she used to be.
| |
| And that was it. It didn't have to be perfect, as long as the memory was a happy one.
| |
| | |
| |s4_title = The Runaway Plushie
| |
| |s4_text =
| |
| "Medowlyn from the Lucerne family's taking the Golden Comb this year, isn't she?"
| |
| "I mean, obviously. I heard the council's already saved her a seat, just waiting for her to claim it!"
| |
| "Ugh, I can't wait to see it..."
| |
| | |
| As the chimes sounded before the Golden Hall, the ball commenced. Young debutantes, each with a flawlessly arranged coiffure, entered the ballroom in pairs and trios.
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| Meanwhile, outside Medowlyn's room, her lady's maids were in a panic. The bell had rung three times, and at last the head maid, steeling herself, forced the door open.
| |
| | |
| Inside... the room was empty? Only an empty plushie box lay in plain sight.
| |
| | |
| A faint glimmer flickered at the windowsill, and as the maid stepped closer, she saw a fall of golden hair slipping softly down from the edge of the window, silken, luminous... and severed.
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn The Runaway Plushie Image 01|center}}
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| The Coiffure Ball... might never be quite so perfect again.
| |
| | |
| Three days later, Judge Lucy sat at her desk, snapping her ruler and protractor apart, piece by piece, along the precise markings once used to measure the length and curve of every coiffure.
| |
| | |
| They said the girl had left without taking any of her hair accessories. Only a pair of scissors and some thread.
| |
| | |
| Had she truly gone?
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| {{Neighbor Stories/Image|Medowlyn The Runaway Plushie Image 02|center}}
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
| | |
| For those who had already come of age, the PuffPost Boxes by their doors had been filling up lately. From time to time, a soft, fluffy gift would arrive from the Starsea.
| |
| | |
| "Ms. Ellie, a floofy violin won't snap, right? Shh... that lullaby is our little secret."
| |
| Ellie, the maid, smiled at the parcel. Even with one string missing, little Lynn would always play along, drifting off with a grin to the off-key tune.
| |
| | |
| "Cecily, the funny-faced bread tastes good too! After eating it... you'll get a funny face!"
| |
| Cecily of the Tulip family glanced at the bread plushie in the corner, remembering that camping trip with Lynn, when they burned the bread and hurriedly ate it all before anyone could notice.
| |
| | |
| "Anna, remember when the clam snapped open and splashed us with mud? And there was nothing inside!"
| |
| Anna, Medowlyn's former deskmate, carefully opened the plush clam in her hands. This time, soft little pearls nestled inside, giggling quietly.
| |
| | |
| ----
| |
|
| |
|
| Out in the Starsea, a small figure walked on, her eyes wide with wonder. Her once-cropped curls had begun to grow back, and this time, she no longer felt the need to keep them so carefully in place.
| | Outside the window, Medowlyn finished the sentence with her in perfect unison! |
| Imperfection... really isn't such a bad thing.
| |
|
| |
|
| The open wind slipped freely through every soft strand of her hair. And somewhere in the distance... | | So that was it. The little girl and the garden were pieces of who she used to be. |
| <i>There must be even more beautiful memories waiting to be found, right?</i>
| | So that was it. It didn't have to be perfect, as long as the memory was happy. |
|
| |
|
| How lovely it will be to tuck them away in something soft and floofy.
| | |s4_title = |
| | |s4_reward = 400 |
| | |s4_text = |
| }} | | }} |
