Forever Green

50th Chapter Celebration - Aesthetics!

I figured I should have a reason for showing these, so celebrating reaching the 50th chapter it is!  This is my longest story on wattpad and one of the longest I've ever written, so I guess that's exciting.  Anyway, enjoy the visuals!  I've also added descriptions below if you feel like reading through all that.

Lenesa's Cottage

Thick old books stacked in corners and on shelves, the glow and warmth from a large stone fireplace, the smell of earth and glimmer of dew on wet leaves in a garden, patterns of shadow and light cast by decorative lanterns, the thick aroma and taste of honey-sweetened rice pudding, water boiling on the stove, the sizzle of food cooking in a pan, the crackle of dried herbs bound together and a calming mix of herbal scents, sketches of plants with detailed notes in swirling script, the grinding of a mortar and pestle, a steaming pot of tea, dancing blue flame, rain tapping against windows, the sound of the wind dancing through the trees, moonlight filtering through branches, the smell of pine, stars glimmering through the darkness of a still, cold night, the squeak of a cupboard door hinge and the clink of a lid fitting on a teapot, the purring of a cat or the throaty caw of a raven, creaking wooden furniture, rough herbal soap, hot bathwater, wrinkled sheets and heavy blankets, the same few dishes and silverware used over and over while the rest of the tableware set sits unused in cabinets and drawers, dirty boots with worn soles cast off by the front door

Patachal City

Steep, winding cobblestone streets, candlelight flickering from windows, creaking cartwheels rumbling down a road and leather boots tapping against stone, thick wooden beams and heavy window shutters, rushing river water, foot traffic that clatters the planks of a bridge, clinking coins and glasses in a pub, laughter and music from behind closed doors, the unnerving feeling of being watched from behind half-drawn curtains as you walk down the street, the flicker of candlelight in a draft, a set of solitary footsteps, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the smell of burning firewood, the weight of a dagger at the hip, an uneasy shifting of feet, fog drifting down an empty street at night, ominous darkness and sounds of the forest beyond the safety of blazing torches and a sturdy stone wall

Kivirra's Tower

Watery visions that ripple and fade, rustles of thick red fabric, whorls of gold filigree against the glaze of old red teacups, snarling goblins guarding the door and the scratch of claws across a stone floor at night, large gray flagstones and velvety scarlet cushions, thick rugs and palm readings, a spiral stone staircase that passes several floors, staring out from a high vantage point at the stars with fingertips pressed against the cool glass windowpane, the strike of a match to light a candle at the bedside, the frantic scratch of a pen across the parchment of a small journal to capture details of a dream before it vanishes, flipping through pages of books already read to find information on a specific subject, food going cold and forgotten during a serious thinking session, clouds drifting by overhead, dappling the ground in shadow, the view of a snow-capped mountain range stretching as far as the eye can see