02-11-2020, 04:46 AM
[table]
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[td][/td][/tr][tr][td]
Soft the cream encasing the rich hue of freshly plucked berry, sweet yet of little substance, a morsel gone within moments. Akin, almost, that of child if given singular glance, a sweet treat of no substance until looked upon in further depth
Frail from the moment of first breath, worrying the manner their breathing hitches and rolls in unfortunate fashion, shied away from any light to fall on lids to thin almost may the soft hue beneath be perceived. Against them seems the world, compromised their immune system to such a point sickness is common, weak until toddling first step does not occur until well beyond those around them, growing at a rate that does not match. Youth is a hardship but thrive they will, a pale ghost to what they may become
Indeed, fitting the title of spectre. Neither parental unit seems to have hand in the paleness of plush coat, removed all traces of colour beyond the oddity of soft pink points, near to freckles dotting back and face. Yet so too are other points stark in their difference, of such a thinness the coat over belly, paws, and visage the blush of skin is visible, near translucent the rounded tips of ears in similar manner. Removed the tarnished gold mother bears with a quiet dignity, a beauty all her own, and lacking the stark hue of rich ebony adorning father, a handsome figure cut from marble, to both a comparison leaves them wanting, a tiny snowflake dressed with a rose blush
Theirs is the child, however, no discrepancy in such can be found, and adorning features speak further truth. Tiny are the horns adorning skull, barely an inch if that upon the date of birth, darker the base though still washed out is the pink, growing pale enough glasses seems the tips. Alike the wings of no truth size adorning back, the soft gradient making apparent the veins impeded in thin membrane, unknown if growth would permit flight
Startling the depths of lilac set in the backdrop of ivory and rose, washed out the hue of purple but a touch of colour all else lacks. Like all stricken with such faint is the red tinge about edges, touched the depths of pupil until direct light makes them only such, removed all traces of the prior black. Poor is their vision, to such a degree beyond the extension of forelimb distinct is the blur that leaves all difficult to perceive, strengthened as the distant is increased until head aches with the mere attempt of seeing what is present. So too is their depth perception lacking for such, often miscalculated what is before them until clumsy is the child, prone to walking into things or others that do no good for thin is their skin and all too easily do bruises adorn them
backup
— a soft base of tarnished gold broken by irregular patches of pale cream. As with their mother they lack rosettes, rather black spots speckle the gold portions of their body, becoming near freckles along their cheeks and the bridge of their nose
Mere bumps within the fluffy fur of their head easy is it to mistake their horns for sea glass, opaque in a fashion that makes light warp the pale base of green, teal and blue shining through depending on the light source. More solid in terms of colour their wings still bear the shift from green to blue, a pale gradient running along the thin membrane
very sweet, if a little slow to pick up on new things, scatter brained thus necessitating writing everything down thus making it easier to remember things. very emotional and loving but hides how anxious and unsure they truly are, little bit of a cry baby
Roxanne
— above has she suspended the very stars that cradle moon in a gentle grasp, everything wrapped up in a neat little bow. Understatement every attempt to put into meagre words how they care for mother with all their fragile little heart, queen bearing a crown of spun silver and rose, caretaker with a delicate voice so soothing and kind, adored in every way. It may be aept to deem them a mama's girl but they can not help such, and there is nothing that will tarnish the quiet love they harbour
greed
—
siblings
—
roan
—
the primary focus will be through interaction with others but there are a few things I've been playing with
Chevalierdreams
— the dead of night brings with it soft whispers, a quiet murmur speaking of poison friendship. Not the first is the child of strawberry and cream, another before lingering in hidden recesses, a child of knight and Queen dark in the manner in which he views unwitting vessel
Not for some time will they learn of this passenger brought along for their ride, the humble beginnings as opened are their eyes to the world behind their own. Dancing spectres fill their vision and once divide can be conquered together do they work, a soft medium with a gentle heart never realizing the price paid for helping others to their eternal rest
pound of flesh
— they had never wanted this, beyond their bounds had they been pushed and necessary was their departure in a manner that may be performed with haste
Poor is their management of a deteriating mental state and it takes a simple push to get them falling beyond, the mere brush of another, sharp words uttered within their direction, simple a thing but all too much. Afixed as their jaws around another and the heat of rose hued flames is all they know, the faint crackle and pop of skin overlaying the ragged screams
They never meant to hurt another in such manner but away did they come with the taste of blood on their lips, an insatiable appetite quenched by what they can't have yet are desperate in their desire for
sweet tooth
— it grows easier to temper the urges that rise in the darkness of endless night when filled is the air with the sweetness of baking treats
A way to apologise at first they found a quiet love in the act of creating, enjoyed the way others spoke of their baked goods, at peace when about them is the open space of a kitchen. Though a poor substitute for truly unpacking and understanding their emotions it grows clear they take to cooking in a way they have little else before, yet it can hide things for only so long
— suffers from a litany of issues which makes for a rather poor childhood, while such will plague them through out life they use a manner of methods to keep safe, often employing sun hats and thin cloaks to keep their skin from burning
— selective mute, most comfortable speaking in the Spanish their mama has taught them but tends to default to simple signs and gestures, later will employ simple messages if an avalible surface to write on is present
— quite a picky eater, as most do lead to stomach issues they tend to be a very fussy eater making the way any cut or even hint of blood catches their eye all the more startling but they never act upon such confused over the urges that plague them
[tr]
[td][/td][/tr][tr][td]
NAME
— eulia roux
— means sweetly spoken
— ela, lu
GENDER
— non-binary
— they / them & she / her
orientation
— panromantic
— grey-asexual
AGE
— unborn
— real time
ALLEGIANCE
— the typhoon
— minnow
[/td][/tr][/table][table][tr][td][table][tr][td]— eulia roux
— means sweetly spoken
— ela, lu
GENDER
— non-binary
— they / them & she / her
orientation
— panromantic
— grey-asexual
AGE
— unborn
— real time
ALLEGIANCE
— the typhoon
— minnow
[align=center][b]Summer strawberries and cream[/b]
Soft the cream encasing the rich hue of freshly plucked berry, sweet yet of little substance, a morsel gone within moments. Akin, almost, that of child if given singular glance, a sweet treat of no substance until looked upon in further depth
Frail from the moment of first breath, worrying the manner their breathing hitches and rolls in unfortunate fashion, shied away from any light to fall on lids to thin almost may the soft hue beneath be perceived. Against them seems the world, compromised their immune system to such a point sickness is common, weak until toddling first step does not occur until well beyond those around them, growing at a rate that does not match. Youth is a hardship but thrive they will, a pale ghost to what they may become
Indeed, fitting the title of spectre. Neither parental unit seems to have hand in the paleness of plush coat, removed all traces of colour beyond the oddity of soft pink points, near to freckles dotting back and face. Yet so too are other points stark in their difference, of such a thinness the coat over belly, paws, and visage the blush of skin is visible, near translucent the rounded tips of ears in similar manner. Removed the tarnished gold mother bears with a quiet dignity, a beauty all her own, and lacking the stark hue of rich ebony adorning father, a handsome figure cut from marble, to both a comparison leaves them wanting, a tiny snowflake dressed with a rose blush
Theirs is the child, however, no discrepancy in such can be found, and adorning features speak further truth. Tiny are the horns adorning skull, barely an inch if that upon the date of birth, darker the base though still washed out is the pink, growing pale enough glasses seems the tips. Alike the wings of no truth size adorning back, the soft gradient making apparent the veins impeded in thin membrane, unknown if growth would permit flight
Startling the depths of lilac set in the backdrop of ivory and rose, washed out the hue of purple but a touch of colour all else lacks. Like all stricken with such faint is the red tinge about edges, touched the depths of pupil until direct light makes them only such, removed all traces of the prior black. Poor is their vision, to such a degree beyond the extension of forelimb distinct is the blur that leaves all difficult to perceive, strengthened as the distant is increased until head aches with the mere attempt of seeing what is present. So too is their depth perception lacking for such, often miscalculated what is before them until clumsy is the child, prone to walking into things or others that do no good for thin is their skin and all too easily do bruises adorn them
backup
— a soft base of tarnished gold broken by irregular patches of pale cream. As with their mother they lack rosettes, rather black spots speckle the gold portions of their body, becoming near freckles along their cheeks and the bridge of their nose
Mere bumps within the fluffy fur of their head easy is it to mistake their horns for sea glass, opaque in a fashion that makes light warp the pale base of green, teal and blue shining through depending on the light source. More solid in terms of colour their wings still bear the shift from green to blue, a pale gradient running along the thin membrane
✧
very sweet, if a little slow to pick up on new things, scatter brained thus necessitating writing everything down thus making it easier to remember things. very emotional and loving but hides how anxious and unsure they truly are, little bit of a cry baby
✧
Roxanne
— above has she suspended the very stars that cradle moon in a gentle grasp, everything wrapped up in a neat little bow. Understatement every attempt to put into meagre words how they care for mother with all their fragile little heart, queen bearing a crown of spun silver and rose, caretaker with a delicate voice so soothing and kind, adored in every way. It may be aept to deem them a mama's girl but they can not help such, and there is nothing that will tarnish the quiet love they harbour
greed
—
siblings
—
roan
—
✧
[b]plots[/b]
the primary focus will be through interaction with others but there are a few things I've been playing with
Chevalierdreams
— the dead of night brings with it soft whispers, a quiet murmur speaking of poison friendship. Not the first is the child of strawberry and cream, another before lingering in hidden recesses, a child of knight and Queen dark in the manner in which he views unwitting vessel
Not for some time will they learn of this passenger brought along for their ride, the humble beginnings as opened are their eyes to the world behind their own. Dancing spectres fill their vision and once divide can be conquered together do they work, a soft medium with a gentle heart never realizing the price paid for helping others to their eternal rest
pound of flesh
— they had never wanted this, beyond their bounds had they been pushed and necessary was their departure in a manner that may be performed with haste
Poor is their management of a deteriating mental state and it takes a simple push to get them falling beyond, the mere brush of another, sharp words uttered within their direction, simple a thing but all too much. Afixed as their jaws around another and the heat of rose hued flames is all they know, the faint crackle and pop of skin overlaying the ragged screams
They never meant to hurt another in such manner but away did they come with the taste of blood on their lips, an insatiable appetite quenched by what they can't have yet are desperate in their desire for
sweet tooth
— it grows easier to temper the urges that rise in the darkness of endless night when filled is the air with the sweetness of baking treats
A way to apologise at first they found a quiet love in the act of creating, enjoyed the way others spoke of their baked goods, at peace when about them is the open space of a kitchen. Though a poor substitute for truly unpacking and understanding their emotions it grows clear they take to cooking in a way they have little else before, yet it can hide things for only so long
✧
[b]notes[/b]
— suffers from a litany of issues which makes for a rather poor childhood, while such will plague them through out life they use a manner of methods to keep safe, often employing sun hats and thin cloaks to keep their skin from burning
— selective mute, most comfortable speaking in the Spanish their mama has taught them but tends to default to simple signs and gestures, later will employ simple messages if an avalible surface to write on is present
— quite a picky eater, as most do lead to stomach issues they tend to be a very fussy eater making the way any cut or even hint of blood catches their eye all the more startling but they never act upon such confused over the urges that plague them
dulcis innocentia
I dig 'til my shovel tells a secret
Swear to the earth that I will keep it
© ceilidh