still green and growing

[in_omnia]

Today's person of focus is Bantling, who now possesses distinct enough interests and preferences that I'm able to hunt down a few quizzes. And since Sev and his son have had a day to settle back in, they're here, ready to fork over parchments and show off some snazzy hand-drawn renditions of the results. (Sorry I can't share those. Sev's son is apparently very willing to offer me adorable illustrations of frogs and dinos and gardens provided I do not post them publicly. I can't even hang them in my cubicle at work. Alas.)

But since I've offered an inkling of the quizzes on offer today, let me present them with no further ado. Sev, may I have the results? ::crisp crackle of parchment accompanied by a mouth trumpet doo-doo-do-dooooo!:: Excellent fanfare, kiddo!

A Garden of Memory A garden of memory. You know there was a garden here, once. There must have been. But now, there is only a hole in the earth, fenced off as part of a construction site. You have no idea how deep it is, your flashlight unable to penetrate its depths adequately, but you do know that you should not have come here at night.

What Garden Are You?

I'm not actually sure what this result says about me. On the one hand, whenever I envision a garden, there's always an element of mystery or neglect or subtle magic to it, and there's definitely a bit of that in this result. On the other hand, this is supposed to be me if I were a garden, and even if I'm kinda weird and sometimes lonely and a little unfathomable, I don't think I'm quite so desolate or forgotten or dark as this garden seems to be. I think I'll take this result and imagine it as the start of a story, where something that seems obvious and off-putting slowly reveals itself to be something else entirely. That's not really me either, but at least in that narrative, there's room for the garden to become anything I wish: what it was in memory, yes, but also what all gardens should be—a place brimful of potential and the unexpected.

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You Are a Green Tree Frog These little frogs are grass-green colored, usually with a creamy colored line running from the jaw along the flanks. Males make a really loud noise that's a bit like quacking, which is sometimes known as a "rain call" because they tend to make a lot of noise before rains, but which can also be stimulated by external noises. They eat an assortment of bugs including crickets, moths, and flies.

What Kind of Frog Are You?

No real metaphorical commentary on my character or personality here, but I love the idea of being a little green tree frog, dining on an assortment of bugs and anticipating the rain. Though since I'm not male, who knows what sorts of noises I'd make.

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Elasmosaurus Tbh underwater dinosaurs scare the absolute shit out of me, but overall still a sickass dinosaur, they probably have great taste in music. I think if you were friends with Elasmosaurus you'd have to be a one-of-a-kind, special person, but it would be well worth it for the amazing adventures you'd have. Link below if you want more fun facts about Elasmosaurus: https://dinosaurpictures.org/Elasmosaurus-pictures

Which Dinosaur Would Be Your Best Friend?

Tbh, large underwater creatures of any sort scare the absolute shit out of me. Which is not to say I don't think they're awesome. I just get nervous at the prospect of being in close proximity to anything so big when they are built for that environment and I am not. I would imagine, though, that having an Elasmosaurus for a friend would alleviate a lot of my underwater anxiety: I'd have an ally there, ready to help me if I needed it, and a guide to a world I'm curious about but scared to explore on my own. We would indeed have amazing adventures—accompanied by excellent music, no doubt—and if I have to be a special sort of person to be friends with an Elasmosaurus, surely they'd have to be a special Elasmosaurus to be friends with a tiny, fragile human like me.