It had not been an easy task.

The ancient demon deer had been tending to the landscape of the ruins for ages, though not always while under any other's watchful eye. So often, he would be seen ripping weeds out of the ground and flattening the uprooted soil with a blood-free hind hoof, or clipping dead and old poppies and ivy from the ground and ruins their selves with his draconic teeth. What he did unseen, included taking the time to collect the seeds from the old poppies to plant and grow fresh plants, and even making the effort to transfer pollen to the stigma of fresh poppies. Indeed, a strange task for a creature with a rightful reputation as a murderer.

Months ago, the old demon had made indiscreet measures to acquire a sort of gift from a foreign region. The process really included needing to actually make a temporary leave from the forest to find what he needed for the ruins. What he returned with, appeared to be nothing more interesting than medium sized and average looking seeds, which were promptly buried in less accessible sections of the ruins, as well as among the poppies.
He knew most deer would be tempted to eat anything, including these... so they had to be grown as far from sight as possible. Unfortunately, most had indeed been found and eaten before they could bloom, or picked by suitors to impress and bewilder possible lovers.



Returning to the ruins from a brief trip to the pond, Darkweaver had to fight the urge to kick himself. It was already the second week of February and on this particular evening the gift he had been trying to grow needed to be given. Even being away from the ruins no more than an hour tonight meant for the last one to risk being lost. If it had not been for a particularly hyperactive couple trapped in an endless nuzzle war while surrounded by the dragonflies, he might have forgotten entirely that it was Valentines.

[=crimson]"Hnn... this be..tter.. not be.. alz...him..er...s...