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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
27.11 m
Wingspan
24.39 m
Weight
6983.91 kg
Genetics
Hickory
Boulder
Boulder
Copper
Shimmer
Shimmer
Honey
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
H A N A H A K I
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION IV CAVIAR’S LINE NAOMI GENERATION VI (MYTH) TALOS GENERATION IV (SHILO)
"Quote"
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The entry is written in faded ink, a date scrawled at the top of the page next to a short title that reads “Eternal Summertide”. It is an account from the journal of one Ophelia Evans regarding a garden from her dreams. The paper is warped, ink running together where it was once wet, as if the author had been crying as they wrote. Do you ever have such a dream that you awaken with tears in your eyes? Not tears of grief or despair, but those shed from sheer, overwhelming beauty? Such a dream must be called Nirvana, and for me it was a dream about a garden. I must write it down. Before I forget. The night was cold. It was the middle of winter, and a chill crept into my bedroom. I shivered as I drifted to sleep. . . And suddenly I felt sunlight against my skin. I stood amidst a garden, surrounded by the humming of bees and cicadas and the song of a thousand birds. I could wander here endlessly, sweet grass brushing against my limbs as the scent of ripened fruit and flowers filling the air. Time itself seemed meaningless in such a place and I found myself wishing to stay here forever. Yet cruel awakening pulled me from the garden of my dreams. . . Back to a cold reality. I coughed and the petals of a flower fell from my lips - a reminder of that sunlit place. Oh how I wished to return! And the next night I found myself wandering there again. I’ve seen footprints lingering in the soil. I know not whether they are my own from the times I’ve tread in the garden before. . . Or from some other dreamer traversing those fields. I find that I do not care. I wish only that sleep will take me again so that I might bathe in the eternal sun. I know something stares at me in that place, hiding in the foliage. Still, I hope that the garden lets me return. . . And perhaps one day I will be allowed to stay. We attempted to follow up regarding Ophelia’s report and found that she had gone missing without a trace. The only unusual finding regarding her disappearance was that her bed was covered in flowers where her sleeping form may once have laid.
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