Family of Zhu.
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The spider lily, in its sanguine efflorescence, inscribes our desires as a litany of twelvefold petals. It binds us in a tether that neither time nor distance may abrogate.

Shall memory, then, recrudesce in petaline form? Where it binds, @TheZhuBot.
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Reds Tied Assembled at the Grave.
(ε‘Šεˆ«) NEVER-LONG-LAST
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Parting had neglected borderlines, abandoned blooming in autumn. We come to show what despair is, which won’t allude to well-being. As soon as the leaves appear, the death throes come into sight. Burials, and the crimson hues, have always served as a measure to inscribe: β€œHuman May Leave, and Return," yet orbit, like a wheel. Tears shall be the last-minute sign of the curtailment of Heart, Soul, and Body.

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