Heading for Monsun's northern region, the spotty woodland continues. Whether you were here when Monsun looked a little more normal or not, there's no mistaking that things are not as they should be. Trees have grown strangely into one another in an unfurling of vines and tangling branches. Splashes of meadow are slapped across what should be dense undergrowth, seemingly at random. It is though two landscapes are struggling for prominence, and neither will give ground to the other. That assessment may not very well be far off, either. The disparity is intense and inescapable, and impossible to ignore.
Unless you're too busy being at each other's throats, anyway.
This dichotomy continues all the way to the coast. The ocean waves are thankfully normal enough, crashing up against a thin strip of coast that ends as soon as the scattered trees begin. But given how quickly your worst traits will start to swell to the surface the longer you remain, it's doubtful that any of you will be in the state of mind to enjoy the view.
You're not alone in this region, either. The local flora and fauna that once flourished on Ziziphus often overlapped with one another, and flowccus are no exception. What initially might seem like some flowery bushes turn out to be anything but. Their "wool" is comprised of bright flowers, some which might even be useful for medicine and dyes. Their coats can even be sheared to harvest said flowers, and given the placid nature of these prey animals, they probably won't even mind the company in the vicinity. They're also capable of producing a sweet milk akin to nectar, and require very little daily maintenance besides sunlight, water, and some room to graze.
Some of them might be worth preserving, and taking back to Ensō to better sustain the budding herds there.
MONSUN - D1 | ѱ PREY
Heading for Monsun's northern region, the spotty woodland continues. Whether you were here when Monsun looked a little more normal or not, there's no mistaking that things are not as they should be. Trees have grown strangely into one another in an unfurling of vines and tangling branches. Splashes of meadow are slapped across what should be dense undergrowth, seemingly at random. It is though two landscapes are struggling for prominence, and neither will give ground to the other. That assessment may not very well be far off, either. The disparity is intense and inescapable, and impossible to ignore.
Unless you're too busy being at each other's throats, anyway.
This dichotomy continues all the way to the coast. The ocean waves are thankfully normal enough, crashing up against a thin strip of coast that ends as soon as the scattered trees begin. But given how quickly your worst traits will start to swell to the surface the longer you remain, it's doubtful that any of you will be in the state of mind to enjoy the view.
You're not alone in this region, either. The local flora and fauna that once flourished on Ziziphus often overlapped with one another, and flowccus are no exception. What initially might seem like some flowery bushes turn out to be anything but. Their "wool" is comprised of bright flowers, some which might even be useful for medicine and dyes. Their coats can even be sheared to harvest said flowers, and given the placid nature of these prey animals, they probably won't even mind the company in the vicinity. They're also capable of producing a sweet milk akin to nectar, and require very little daily maintenance besides sunlight, water, and some room to graze.
Some of them might be worth preserving, and taking back to Ensō to better sustain the budding herds there.