Ellaire
(#69085130)
it hasnt been this bad in years, love. what happened?
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Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.83 m
Wingspan
1.24 m
Weight
2.19 kg
Genetics
Midnight
Skink (Veilspun)
Skink (Veilspun)
Stonewash
Constellation (Veilspun)
Constellation (Veilspun)
Sky
Runes (Veilspun)
Runes (Veilspun)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Veilspun
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
6
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
i miss having a personality. i miss needing a name. i have no reason to have one anymore, no friends no talking no hobbies there's nothing left
people stay only to mock and laugh. even if i looked normal they still wouldnt like me. i dont know what i have left. its all like sand, slipping through my fingers
i almost wish i never tried to protect myself because i had those good months but now i have nothing. nothing left and
he puts the pen down. shivers in the cold. there is ice outside. he misses. something. something indescribable. he feels like he is a void. not sad, or hollow or depressed.
just nothing. he is nearly at peace with it. but sometimes. sometimes it hurts. that he doesnt have.. anything in him anymore.
some people die young and aren't buried until they're seventy-five.
he thinks he died very young.
he brings up a lighter and burns the paper he was writing on.
it is midnight. surreal. crickets chirp in the mahogany-olive dead bushes nearby and the moon is blindfolded by clouds.
he knows he has no future and yet.
he still tries.
i dont have the energy to draw anymore. its like years ago when i could barely lift my head and i think that that is terrifying but also drawing was the only thing i had left that i could do semi well so of course i lost it lol
people stay only to mock and laugh. even if i looked normal they still wouldnt like me. i dont know what i have left. its all like sand, slipping through my fingers
i almost wish i never tried to protect myself because i had those good months but now i have nothing. nothing left and
he puts the pen down. shivers in the cold. there is ice outside. he misses. something. something indescribable. he feels like he is a void. not sad, or hollow or depressed.
just nothing. he is nearly at peace with it. but sometimes. sometimes it hurts. that he doesnt have.. anything in him anymore.
some people die young and aren't buried until they're seventy-five.
he thinks he died very young.
he brings up a lighter and burns the paper he was writing on.
it is midnight. surreal. crickets chirp in the mahogany-olive dead bushes nearby and the moon is blindfolded by clouds.
he knows he has no future and yet.
he still tries.
i dont have the energy to draw anymore. its like years ago when i could barely lift my head and i think that that is terrifying but also drawing was the only thing i had left that i could do semi well so of course i lost it lol
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Exalting Ellaire to the service of the Plaguebringer will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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