The warmth of a mossy heart

She had found the block  on a overtuned shipwreck near the Banks of sand in the sea, alongside wet cobwebs, rotten flesh and stale potatoes.

It was green, soft and puffy to the touch, amelie felt a Sting in her hand as she held it, Although they  had decided to ignore it and go back home

"I will search what it is later" she thought to herself, litlle did them know that it was only the beggining

As she reached the frozen wasteland of bamboo walls and a igloo that she called home and collapsed into bed, armour still on, they felt what seemed to be confort for the first time in months, the last thing she would feel before going into slumber was a Sting in their left arm.


The next day, it felt sore, that day she had finnaly decided what to do to the green block, they  put it down next to the loom and chest that she had never bothered to open

In the following days she would isolate herself, stopping trading or interaction with the villagers

Nobody knew what had happened to her as nobody dared or bothered to go to the isolated and cold place that was their igloo, the villagers kept living their own lifes, unaware of the warm green mist slowly forming around the house

On the last day, the door burst, releasing a cloud of spores into the wild, out walked amelie, iron armor rusted and covered in vines who also entagled themselves in her hair, her eyes sligtly red with all the mist in them, her Vision was tinted green their, room felt humid like the deep underground of a cave and with almost no visibility Thanks to the spores

All of this in stark contrast to the cold wasteland, but amelie dreamed with bonemeal on her hand, she dreamed of ice spikes covered in moss, of trees with pink flowers, and of a greener earth

So she went, bonemeal in hand, ready to achieve her dreams of a mossworld

Soon, everyone would know the warmth of a mossy heart