A one-of-a-kind handmade glass dome — whimsical, witchy and alive with old magic, for those who understand that some places are enchanted not because someone made them so, but because they were never anything else. In the most remote corner of an enchanted grove, where no foot has set step for at least a century, a small butterfly chose a rather unusual place to rest. A skull — pale and delicate, belonging to a young rabbit who sealed his fate with magic, even now he holds a spell jar in his mouth, with the quiet certainty of someone who found it and decided, without much deliberation, that it was now his. Around him, the grove does what forgotten groves do: it grows. Flowers blooming in every corner. Moss and lichen spreading slowly over everything, the way moss does when no one is watching. Miniature mushrooms appearing, as mushrooms do, without explanation. On either side of the skull, ribs curve upward symmetrically — like the arches of a cathedral that was never consecrated, only grown. _______________________________ Details Young rabbit skull holding a spell jar in his mouth Spell jar filled with amethyst, rose quartz, dried rose petals and moss Preserved Polyommatus icarus butterfly (Common Blue) resting on the skull’s nose Dried botanical arrangement:, moss, lichen, miniature mushrooms Ribs arranged symmetrically around the skull Glass dome on wooden base — hand-painted, stained and sanded, with ornamental legs added by hand Engraved nameplate: Lucus Incantatus Desertus (The Forgotten Enchanted Grove) Back finished with Morbid Oddities logo Fully handmade arrangement _______________________________ Processing Ready to display. One of a kind — you will receive the exact piece shown. _______________________________ Shipping Carefully packaged to ensure safe delivery. Original design — no copies permitted. _______________________________ Size 18 cm x 16 cm _______________________________ LORE There is a particular kind of rabbit who has always preferred gardens to burrows. Not the tidy kind of garden — the other kind. The kind where things grow because they want to, where mushrooms appear overnight and nobody removes them, where the moss has opinions about which stones it will cover and which it will leave alone. He found the spell jar on a Tuesday, or possibly a Wednesday — he has never been entirely certain about days. It was sitting in the middle of the path, sealed with amethyst and rose petals and moss, as though someone had left it there on purpose. He picked it up. He has been carrying it ever since. The butterfly arrived later. It chose his nose, which he found slightly undignified but ultimately acceptable. It has very good taste in landing spots, he will admit that much. The grove has been forgotten. The enchantment, however, is doing perfectly well on its own.
Related
Related
Related
Related