I might participate..

Sounds good, I'll join soon if I have time!

Ooh, this sounds like fun!

I might enter. Would the prompt be just Wisteria, or say: a Wisteria tree?

-Sunny <3 

There was once an island lined in the most exquisite of blooming trees, its namesake and the reason for which it was known as a blessed place. Their purple white-lipped flowers coated the land, as if offering a carpet for the worthy to tread upon. And yet, not a single foot dared to impose upon such sacred land, so much so that even the wildlife seemed to avoid grazing or settling it out of respect – perhaps even fear. It was at such a location that the Hero would one day be spawned.

For many years that child born of the island grew, relatively safe. However, the dangers of the natural world ought not to be forgotten nor undermined, and indeed it must have been difficult to live with no sustenance nor shelter for those long early years. The child had not been forgotten by its earth-mother, though; the trees themselves shed their petals of immortality for the child to quench their base needs, and stretched to provide cover to the fragile body until it could fend for itself. Like this, the child grew mighty and finely built, but still longingly dreamed for love and adventure from afar.

There was one day when the child, fearless and emboldened by years of natural luxury, set out, crafting a raft to sail far out into the world beyond their bubble – determined to succeed. And succeed they did, for many, many years; attaining riches, doing good by the people, offering their services and gaining a great many badges of praise and honour upon their travels. And yet, the moment the sweet but passionate love first took root, it was over. The fiery adoration of yesteryear bled into the ferocious vengeance of the years to come when things fell apart in the end, and thus, blind to the Hero's glory, the life was stripped and smote out of them by a venomous lover. Felled by the hand of one who once claimed the cherish everything that they stood for; a life turned to cinders the moment the flames caught on, then slowly burned to a crisp until the imminent combustion.

And weep bitterly did the trees of that graceful island-mother, whispering their woes and tearing themselves up over the fact such misfortune could occur to their beloved child. For they were the trees of immortality, whose flowers were to bring about bright love and prosperity, and who were meant to offer a life of bliss and fortune forever. How could a child raised solely on such fine blessings be handed such a miserable death? They wondered achingly.

For they were the hapless plumes that sprawled over the sacred Isle of Wisteria.