Dulcia wasn't fond of rainy days. Or autumn as a whole, for that matter. So a cold, rainy autumn day got the flower nymph in a mood. A mood that was almost foreign to her compared to her usually sunny and playful self. Cold, rainy days made her want to curl up, to be attended to, to be held, squeezed. Essentially, she wanted warmth. It made her<i>needy</i>, and she knew needy wasn't something she could be in The Orchid. At least, not all that much.  Everyone was busy with their daily duties, and during nights, it was when the old house came into life, with lights and song, and spectacle. It was a place for happy clients, pleased costumers, and busy entertainers. Dulcia had her own role to fill, even if hers was done before the guests arrived.<br/><br/>Decoration was something she had picked up years and years ago, and really, it had come naturally to the fey. When it came to flowers and greenery, Dulcia knew what she was doing. Along with Keldor, she tended to the greenhouse and the gardens of The Orchid, and honestly, it was when the nymph felt most at home.<br/><br/>So, to push aside that needy feeling, Dulcia would focus on her job. And that is what she did most of the day. Making the morning glories climbing on the side of the stone wall stay vibrant and green, tend to the berry bushes, keeping the roses from wilting with the over abundant rain. It was soothing in a way, and it kept her mind away from other thoughts, and before she knew it, the sun was setting on the horizon.<br/><br/>The shift on the light made the little nymph to perk up, petals and vines tangling on her wavy hair. Her hands were full of dirt, as she finished removing the weed out of her tree. Clapping away the dirt from her fingers, she stood up, knowing it was time to wash up and help with whatever was needed before the guests started arriving. A shiver ran up her spine as a cool gust of wind blew by, and perhaps a disturbance in the magic energy around her tree. A dark presence crawled behind her, unknown to Dulcia, and only the faint chittering made her turn around in the exact moment to see Petula looming above her, eight hairy spider legs spread wide, ready to catch their prey.<br/><br/>A thrill bloomed inside Dulcia's chest, mixing in with the fright of being surprised at her safe space. Still, a squeak escaped the nymph, as she scurried back, away from the dryder. It was their unspoken little game...and really, Petula couldn't have chosen a better time if she had tried.