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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
11.74 m
Wingspan
16.86 m
Weight
6497.92 kg
Genetics
Midnight
Piebald
Piebald
Turquoise
Trail
Trail
Abyss
Koi
Koi
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Obelisk
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
https://toyhou.se/15165190.nightingale
"Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory?
We do not walk through a passive landscape."
A paranoia ridden ghost, watching watching, through their kin and creation both.
Their steps are weightless and yet the branches shudder under them
We do not walk through a passive landscape."
A paranoia ridden ghost, watching watching, through their kin and creation both.
Their steps are weightless and yet the branches shudder under them
When one of us says “look, there’s nothing out there,’ what we are really saying is, ‘I cannot see’
Quote:
The bones have been with Nightingale ever since her passing. She has no recollection of where they came from. Small carvings dot their frames, though many of them have been worn away by her constant worried fidgeting of the things. Part of her is scared that they were once her own...perhaps if she were to shatter them "accidentally", she would be rid of this fear. Mysteriously, however, they do not seem to break.
Quote:
NIGHTINGALE - The Garden, The Bones, The World
The bones lie in the heart of the garden, white as the day they were interred. Lilac blooms overhead, swaying in the breeze, while hydrangeas and hyacinths burst from the earth below. Once, these hungry plants folded flesh into their roots. Now, they still cannot touch the bones, marrow-starved though they may be.
Perhaps it is a trick of the carvings that adorn the bones. To the average observer, the runes are meaningless decoration, form over function. Even to Nightingale, they mean nothing, and yet they are hers all the same.
Are they from her own body? Maybe. She is more wild than warm, more bloom than beast. As far as she can recall, she is the garden, the garden is her. They share the same thirst at summer's height, the same shiver when winter peaks. They know the richness of the soil together, and the wind's caress at once. This is not the knowledge of mortal bodies or simple beings.
But what if Nightingale was something else once? A different sort of alive? It's impossible to imagine. How could she be any less than everywhere? It is not in her nature to exist in someone else's realm. She is nature, she is the realm.
Still, the bones taunt her. At once unfamiliar and intimate, they tease her with secrets and then refuse to share. By all means, Nightingale should be eternal and untouchable, a force of nature unbound.
What if the bones say otherwise, though?
What will she be then?
It keeps her awake through the night (should nature like herself know the concept of rest?), a torment exquisitely designed. The longer she dwells on her grave—no, it is her garden! The longer she dwells on it, the foggier it all becomes. Burgeoning hedges that mark the twists and turns of her domain blend into one another, and even as she loses her way, she still finds the path back to the lovely, unrotten marrow heart of it all, staring down at the runes that bind her every stray thought.
Nature has no need of written language. It exists above such base communication. Still, Nightingale knows she ought to understand the carvings. Has she forgotten? Or has it been stolen from her? If she waits long enough, thinks hard enough, sometimes, she dreams of meaning to each bone, fragments of a greater whole arranged to keep the putrid stench of decay far distant.
The truth evades her in the end, though, as it always does. The garden slips through its cycles, wither to bloom to wither once more as the seasons march by. Everything in the garden has its place in eternity, bound to the rules and roles that govern the living earth.
Nightingale remains bound with it. Or does she control the bindings, clutch them tightly in her fist? Is she garden or ghost or grave?
No matter the answer, the bones lie untouched.
Bio by Tues.
healing spells
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/840836192922979026/
love creates the most beautiful places
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/840836192918154076/
by teatoots
1200g
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Feed this dragon Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Nightingale to the service of the Windsinger 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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