Editing Medowlyn/Story

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{{Neighbor Stories
|s1_title  = Before the Ball, Every Strand in Place
|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.

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>
The strands used to craft commemorative hairwork were, as the old song went, smooth as silk and near divine in quality:

''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.''

And Medowlyn was the finest among them &mdash; or rather, she was about to become the finest of all.

The hair matrons helped Medowlyn curl the last of her strands.

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.

Medowlyn didn't even notice the matrons' departure. She was too caught up in her frustration &mdash; 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.

|s2_title  = Mischievous Yarn Balls!
|s2_reward = 200
|s2_text   = At first, it was just a round, fuzzy little thing that rolled past her in a blur.<br>
Medowlyn paid it no mind. She figured it was just something her tired eyes had made up after staying away too long.<br>
But then came another. And another. More yarn balls skittered in by the second!

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.

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>
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>
They even took her entire set of fancy combs, scissors, and curling iron with them as they vanished from sight.

Medowlyn rushed to the window and looked outside. Below was a sea of clouds, soft as a bed of cotton.<br>
Without a second thought, she leapt after them.

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>
At last, she landed on something soft &mdash; a cushion of floofy grass.

|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.

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. 

She shrieked and ran off down the path.

The garden seemed to stretch on forever. Somewhere in the distance, a school bell rang. 

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.

"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!"

"Flowers don't smile," the teacher said with a frown. "That shape doesn't follow the standard pattern or proportions."
"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 was—"
'''"Art that turns happy moments into something that lasts forever!"'''

Outside the window, Medowlyn finished the sentence with her in perfect unison!

So that was it. The little girl and the garden were pieces of who she used to be.
So that was it. It didn't have to be perfect, as long as the memory was happy.

|s4_title  = 
|s4_reward = 400
|s4_text   = 
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