Submission (#8111) Approved

Faerindell smelled like joy and honey and every flower there ever was. That was the first thing Harun noticed when they arrived in this region. The clean scent of grass after a light morning dew and the subtle sweetness of pie crust cooling on windowsills.
The rolling hills were freckled with flower farms and white fences and the soft wind carried the fragrance of sugar blossom and wild clover while lavender fields waved in the wind. Pastel petals fluttered down from the pink-petaled trees like a gentle snowfall in spring, coating the cobblestone streets in a trail of color.

Small villages bustled with elnins draping streamers from windows, tying floating lanterns to balconies and humming as they dusted off picnic tables. There were stalls being painted in soft blues and violets, bakery carts overflowing with berry-glazed tarts and honey-dipped fritters, and gentle laughter across every courtyard.

Amid it all walked three figures: one tall and striped, one tiny and energetic, and one in strange hues like colorful crystals.

[...]

“Are we there yet?” Jirai huffed dramatically, dragging a ribboned basket filled with paper lantern supplies.

“We are literally in the village, Jirai,” Harun replied gently, not even looking up from the folded instruction paper he held. “You stopped for your third strawberry bun four steps ago.”

“That’s called strategic carb-loading,” Jirai corrected, proudly licking jam off his paw. “So I have the energy to carry things! You’re welcome.”

Foxglove chuckled under their breath. “Truly, we’d be lost without your noble sacrifices.”

“Exactly.” Jirai perked up. “Wait. Is that a COTTON CANDY TREE?!” He bolted off again, leaving the basket in Haruns surprised paws.

Harun sighed, but it was the fond kind. “I thought we agreed he wouldn’t be allowed near spun sugar this year.”

“You did…,” Foxglove said with a crooked smile, “but Jirai did not.”

[...]

The cottage they were staying at sat just past the sunflower fields, with a wrap around porch and an ivy covered fence. The windows had flower boxes spilling with trailing mint and forget-me-nots, and out back, the trio had set up their own little fairground.

Decorations for Starfall Faire were scattered across the grass: paper lanterns half-folded, jars of glitter, string lights, rolls of silk ribbon, and - somehow - a suspicious number of rogue buttons.

Harun sat on a quilt, carefully threading flower garlands and tying them into the loops of lanterns. His braided hair caught the afternoon light as petals rained down from the trees and landed on his head. Jirai was rolling around in the flower pile pretending to be a Starfall monster, and Foxglove, seated gracefully nearby, was bottling some shimmering dust into tiny vials.

“What is that?” Harun asked curiously, watching the pale shimmer swirl in the glass.

Foxglove corked the bottle with a quiet pop. “Dew from the blushmallow flowers. They only bloom during Starfall.” They held up the vial to the sunlight. “It amplifies light magic in small bursts. Makes lanterns flicker like stars.”

“So cool!” Jirai blurted, popping out of the flower pile. “Can I drink it?”

“No.”

“...Can I touch it?”

“No.”

“...Can I just look at it, really hard?”

Foxglove handed him an empty bottle and patted his head. “That one’s safe.”

[...]

By sundown, the field behind the cottage was transformed.

Dozens of glowing lanterns floated gently between the trees like tiny drifting stars, their paper edges glowing pink, teal and gold. Harun had organized them by size and height, stringing them between branches in a lazy constellation shape. Jirai had made exactly six and a half lanterns before deciding the glitter was better suited directly on himself. Foxglove simply watched and wove soft enchantments into the air, the kind that made petals swirl lazily in patterns and lights twinkle on cue.

The sky overhead had just begun its nightly miracle. Bright streaks shimmered across the dark heavens, falling stars racing silently through the deep. Some glowed icy blue, others gleamed with rosy trails, like the sky itself was tossing flowers down to meet the blooming land below.

Harun sat against a tree, Jirai curled up on his lap, fur still glittery and tail twitching from leftover excitement. Foxglove laid on their side nearby, propped up on one elbow, their eyes reflecting every star.

“Next year,” Jirai murmured, “I wanna build a floating lantern big enough to ride.”

“That sounds extremely unsafe,” Harun said softly.

“I’ll wear extra padding!”

Foxglove smiled without looking away from the sky. “And perhaps a parachute.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

[...]

As the last lanterns bobbed in the warm air, the field quieted.

Crickets hummed in the flowers and a soft wind carried faint music from a nearby village; gentle flutes and laughter. Harun glanced at his companions. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For coming. For making this…”

“Sparkly?” Jirai offered sleepily.

“Loud?” Foxglove teased.

Harun chuckled. “Memorable.”

Foxglove shifted to look at him properly, their gaze softer than usual. “The stars fall every year. But we don’t fall with them.”

“... Sometimes we do.” Harun said, quieter this time.

“Well… unlike the stars, we can catch you when you fall.” Foxglove replied.

Jirai was already asleep.

Harun adjusted his position to curl around him protectively, while Foxglove scooted a bit closer, their presence cool and calming like mist on warm stone.

Above them, the sky kept falling. Below them, the flowers kept blooming.

And for one night…one perfect night…it felt like all of Eyre had slowed down just for them to breathe.

[...]

The sun filtered in gently, like it had been taught not to speak too loudly.

Golden light slanted through the cottages lace curtains, casting patterns on the floorboards. Outside, the orchard hummed with bees and birds. Dew clung to flower petals like tiny memories from the night before and the breeze smelled faintly of honey and cooling lantern wax.

Inside, the little home was quiet.

Or, it had been until a thump, a crash and a very loud yelp shattered the peace.

Harun blinked awake instantly, ears twitching, heart racing. From the next room came the sound of scattering buttons and one muffled kittom voice groaning:

“Why is there GLITTER IN THE TEAPOT?!”

Harun groaned softly, rubbing his eyes. “Ah. There it is.”

Foxgloves voice floated through the open doorway, calm as ever. “Because someone tried to make ‘Starfall Cider’ by pouring berry syrup into everything last night.”

“Listen,” Jirai’s voice whined. “It seemed festive at the time.”

“You stirred it with a sparkler.”

“A thematic sparkler.”

[...]

When Harun emerged from the bedroom, his mane slightly messy and eyes still half-lidded, he found the kitchen in mild chaos. Ribbons hung from a cupboard handle. A flower crown had somehow landed on the kettle. Jirai stood in the middle of it all, wearing one sock on his head and a truly spectacular amount of glitter on his cheeks.

Foxglove was seated at the table, sipping tea like none of it surprised them.

Harun surveyed the scene. “Did anyone sleep more than four hours?”

“I napped on a fruit crate for ten minutes,” Jirai said proudly, then yawned so hard he almost tipped over.

Foxglove gestured to the table. “I salvaged some pastries from the picnic basket. And made new tea…without glitter.”

Harun smiled sleepily. “Thank you…”

They all gathered around the table, the chaos forgotten for now. Outside, the pink petals fluttered by like sleepy confetti. The lanterns from the night before still swayed in the trees, dim but intact, holding onto the last traces of starlight.

Jirai leaned against Haruns side, munching quietly on a honey croissant. His eyes were puffy with sleep, but bright.

“That was the best Starfall ever,” he mumbled.

Harun ran a paw over the top of his head. “It really was.”

Foxglove looked out the window, their gaze distant but soft. “We should leave the lanterns up another day.”

“Why?” Jirai asked through a mouthful of crumbs.

“So we remember,” Foxglove said. “That magic doesn’t have to fall from the sky to stay with us.”

Jirai paused. Then grinned. “You’re getting sentimental.”

Foxglove raised an eyebrow. “I’ll deny it later.”