11 Oct 2020, 19:15
Let's Chat!
Thank you! But I still need to practice more tbh, here is a sketch I made last semester:Amanda Middleton wrote: 11 Oct 2020, 19:08 @Griseldis Edelhardt
Oh wow! You drew that? That's amazing! I wish I had some kind of art skills, but sadly I wasn't blessed with that talent. That's a beautiful drawing though! And I would love to.
I can also draw Amanda when I have enough time during the weekends if you like. And awesome! We can talk about the plot in DMs then.
Stamina: 11 | Evasion: 10 | Strength: 10 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 12
Fearless|Martial Artist|Evasive Maneuvers|Obnoxiously Strong
Fearless|Martial Artist|Evasive Maneuvers|Obnoxiously Strong
11 Oct 2020, 19:59
Let's Chat!
@Griseldis Edelhardt
I think it looks great, she's lovely and so is your drawing!
Really? That would be so cool! It'd be so interesting to see her in someone else's art style.
And that sounds perfect.
Stamina: 3 - Evasion: 8 - Strength: 3 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane Power: 8 - Accuracy: 5 ~ Amanda Willow Middleton
I think it looks great, she's lovely and so is your drawing!
Really? That would be so cool! It'd be so interesting to see her in someone else's art style.
And that sounds perfect.
Stamina: 3 - Evasion: 8 - Strength: 3 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane Power: 8 - Accuracy: 5 ~ Amanda Willow Middleton
12 Oct 2020, 07:33
Let's Chat!
@Amanda Middleton oooh I live your new avatar! Which maker did you use? Me and Lily used Sangled.
@Griseldis Edelhardt hekabdiqkabsns that's so cuteeeeee
What art program do you use?
@Griseldis Edelhardt hekabdiqkabsns that's so cuteeeeee
What art program do you use?
│= | #00308F ency • cassie heather | =│ | breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out Part-Veela • Alluring • Perfectionist • Scream • Sta 9 • Eva 9 • Stre 4 • Wis 10 • Arc 8 • Acc 9 | │ |
12 Oct 2020, 08:51
Let's Chat!
A little while back, I read somebody else's thread, loved it, and felt a strange urge to rewrite it in my own way. So here's my humble interpretation of the wonderful thread The Ling and Winding Road between Wyatt Starkey and Lindsey Springhall.
So how are you all doing on this fine night?
Reducio
He sat alone in the dark, the ivory keys the brightest thing in the cavernous room, his fingers gliding across them as a dove would in the sky. The notes echoed off the walls, bouncing back to him and creating a sorrowful cacophony that only served to amplify his solitude. And yet, somehow, he knew he needed it. What other way might he express the deepest emotions of his soul? In a letter to no one who cared? Or perhaps he could confide in a mirror, where the only person who understood his suffering would hear it?
No, there was simply not enough that words of any language could say, save the purest form of communication understood by all, even the magic that seemed to reside within music. Indeed, words were said, and they were heard; but music, in its most perfect form, was something to be felt in one’s heart. It was not the creation of the musician’s mind, but rather, the crying out of their soul, be it in joy or in pain. It was the very manifestation of that intangible thing that words could not hope to say.
And so he played, alone, having the need to cry out, and doing so in the most complete way he understood.
The darkness enclosed him like a blanket, leaving him with nothing but the music that filled the empty space. The room had become a holy space; a sanctuary to hide him from the world that had so heedlessly forsaken him. However, it would soon become clear that a piece of that very world refused to let him be, for he was not as truly alone as he believed - and certainly wished - he was.
Time escaped him, and the song came to an end almost without his realization, the final note singing its part as it faded into nothingness.
He sat still, hands resting upon the keys, eyes adrift in the darkness beyond the piano that anchored the center of his world. For a few moments he stayed that way, offering no indication of what he could be thinking to anyone that might see his face through the gloom, until a foreign sound shattered the solitary bubble of his creation.
“That was quite excellent,” came a female voice from one side, tinged with no small bit of admiration.
Having abandoned all sense of awareness, his heart soared much higher than it had any right to be, and took him with it, his hands flinching off the ivory keys as he brought them closer in an instinctively defensive motion. His eyes searched the space that the voice had emerged from, but all he could see was black, much the way his life had somehow turned out.
“Who… are you?” he managed to stutter uncertainly. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough feel your message,” came the voice again, slightly to one side of where he had been looking.
Snapping his gaze to that location, he squinted, but in vain. “How do you mean?”
“One doesn’t often sit alone in a big, dark room with a piano unless they’ve got something they can’t share anywhere else. I would know.”
Part of him wished that he had a light to see the newcomer’s face, though a different part only desired to stay hidden. After all, that was how he had taken to living. Better to hide from everything than to face the world and get hurt more than he already had.
He lowered his eyes back to the keys, one of the only things he could see apart from his own hand inches away from his face. “I guess I just thought I could be alone.”
“And you would have been,” said the girl, “except I had the same thought. But I can’t say I mind too much. I was mesmerized.”
He felt the heat rush to his face, giving him another reason to be glad for lack of lighting.
Though he could not see her, there was a lot you could tell of a person from their voice, if you listened closely enough. There seemed to a soft smile in everything the girl said, representing a sense of kindness and soothing that were so lacking in his experiences, to the point that he wasn’t sure if he even believed in it anymore.
He heard light footsteps. She was coming closer. In a bit of a panic, he glanced around the empty space, entirely unsure of what to do and ultimately doing nothing at all, merely clinging to the bench like it was the only life line he had left. She stopped right beside him, close enough that he could hear her breath, almost feel it. Squinting once more, he was able to make out a vague silhouette, but facial features and other details were still a mystery to him.
“May I sit?” she asked, gesturing to the bench he sat on.
He glanced down at the small space beside him on the seat and stared at it like an utter genius for a few silent moments, his flustered brain trying desperately to catch up to where it needed to be. There was no room. From what he could tell, the girl was rather petite, but even she would slide straight to the cold floor if she sat down.
After what surely must have been two hours, he realized that there was room enough on the opposite side of him to scoot over, allowing for the space the girl required to take a seat. He did so hastily and quite nearly ejected himself from the bench, a fate which he had feared for his new companion.
Having said nothing through the whole charade, the girl now planted herself on the bench, her arm lightly brushing his. He pulled away, telling himself that it was for the benefit of her personal space, and yet he knew better.
“Mind if I play something?” she asked.
He nodded his agreement, then realized she may not have seen it through the gloom. “Please, go ahead,” he said quietly.
Without further hesitation, she began a slow introduction to the piece of her choosing. It started small, then gradually built into something more, as most songs did.
Recognize the piece, he did not, but he didn’t care. It was beautiful, as were her dancing hands. It was one thing to play the instrument yourself, and quite another to sit by, listening to the message that another naturally conveyed as they poured everything they had into one magical ballad. To him, in that moment, the experience was equally as holy. The song was perfect, and she was perfect, despite him never having met her, or truly even seen her.
It ended all too soon, but even as the music vanished, her pure message remained in his heart.
“Wow…” he uttered reverently, his anxiety suddenly but a memory. “That was fantastic! I mean, you truly have a gift.”
He thought he could make out evidence of a smile as she turned her head to face him. “As do you,” she said gently. “I just wanted you to feel what you allowed me to feel.” There was a pause, then she added, “And it’s always fun to show off a bit.”
He couldn’t help it - there was no holding it in, as if he would ever want to - he laughed. Genuinely and fully. Nothing like the halfhearted chuckles he would occasionally offer at a bad joke, nor the fake smiles that crossed his face from time to time. This was real. For the first time in a large span of his existence, he felt true joy. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. It seemed to succor his soul, to heal all of his wounds and free him from his pain, if only for a moment, so he let the laughter continue, dragging on much farther than it likely should have. He relished in it until tears streamed down his face, while the girl beside him watched in what surely must have been confusion, or even concern.
Finally the laughter ran its course, allowing him to regain his composure enough to speak. “I’m sorry, it’s just… been a while since I laughed that hard.”
In that moment, he felt a tender hand on his shoulder, and heard a whisper, “Laughter is never something to be sorry about.”
All he wanted was for time to stop, and leave him in that place with her forever. She made him feel happy, something he hadn’t dared to believe was possible at this point. He knew that genuine kindness still existed within some, and this was one of those rare individuals. What strange feelings to be having for one whose name he knew not.
“I asked you before, but you didn’t say. Who are you?”
The hand was removed from his shoulder. “My name is Asta. What is yours?”
His mouth twitched, his hands unconsciously fiddling with the piano keys. Butterflies erupted in his stomach once more. Never before had such nerves racked his body at prospect of revealing his own name. But he simply couldn’t destroy whatever this was, so he forced as confident a reply as he could muster.
“Jay. My name is Jay.”
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Jay.”
For the first time, he looked directly at her, staring into those eyes he wished so desperately he could see. “Believe me, Asta, the pleasure is all mine.”
No, there was simply not enough that words of any language could say, save the purest form of communication understood by all, even the magic that seemed to reside within music. Indeed, words were said, and they were heard; but music, in its most perfect form, was something to be felt in one’s heart. It was not the creation of the musician’s mind, but rather, the crying out of their soul, be it in joy or in pain. It was the very manifestation of that intangible thing that words could not hope to say.
And so he played, alone, having the need to cry out, and doing so in the most complete way he understood.
The darkness enclosed him like a blanket, leaving him with nothing but the music that filled the empty space. The room had become a holy space; a sanctuary to hide him from the world that had so heedlessly forsaken him. However, it would soon become clear that a piece of that very world refused to let him be, for he was not as truly alone as he believed - and certainly wished - he was.
Time escaped him, and the song came to an end almost without his realization, the final note singing its part as it faded into nothingness.
He sat still, hands resting upon the keys, eyes adrift in the darkness beyond the piano that anchored the center of his world. For a few moments he stayed that way, offering no indication of what he could be thinking to anyone that might see his face through the gloom, until a foreign sound shattered the solitary bubble of his creation.
“That was quite excellent,” came a female voice from one side, tinged with no small bit of admiration.
Having abandoned all sense of awareness, his heart soared much higher than it had any right to be, and took him with it, his hands flinching off the ivory keys as he brought them closer in an instinctively defensive motion. His eyes searched the space that the voice had emerged from, but all he could see was black, much the way his life had somehow turned out.
“Who… are you?” he managed to stutter uncertainly. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough feel your message,” came the voice again, slightly to one side of where he had been looking.
Snapping his gaze to that location, he squinted, but in vain. “How do you mean?”
“One doesn’t often sit alone in a big, dark room with a piano unless they’ve got something they can’t share anywhere else. I would know.”
Part of him wished that he had a light to see the newcomer’s face, though a different part only desired to stay hidden. After all, that was how he had taken to living. Better to hide from everything than to face the world and get hurt more than he already had.
He lowered his eyes back to the keys, one of the only things he could see apart from his own hand inches away from his face. “I guess I just thought I could be alone.”
“And you would have been,” said the girl, “except I had the same thought. But I can’t say I mind too much. I was mesmerized.”
He felt the heat rush to his face, giving him another reason to be glad for lack of lighting.
Though he could not see her, there was a lot you could tell of a person from their voice, if you listened closely enough. There seemed to a soft smile in everything the girl said, representing a sense of kindness and soothing that were so lacking in his experiences, to the point that he wasn’t sure if he even believed in it anymore.
He heard light footsteps. She was coming closer. In a bit of a panic, he glanced around the empty space, entirely unsure of what to do and ultimately doing nothing at all, merely clinging to the bench like it was the only life line he had left. She stopped right beside him, close enough that he could hear her breath, almost feel it. Squinting once more, he was able to make out a vague silhouette, but facial features and other details were still a mystery to him.
“May I sit?” she asked, gesturing to the bench he sat on.
He glanced down at the small space beside him on the seat and stared at it like an utter genius for a few silent moments, his flustered brain trying desperately to catch up to where it needed to be. There was no room. From what he could tell, the girl was rather petite, but even she would slide straight to the cold floor if she sat down.
After what surely must have been two hours, he realized that there was room enough on the opposite side of him to scoot over, allowing for the space the girl required to take a seat. He did so hastily and quite nearly ejected himself from the bench, a fate which he had feared for his new companion.
Having said nothing through the whole charade, the girl now planted herself on the bench, her arm lightly brushing his. He pulled away, telling himself that it was for the benefit of her personal space, and yet he knew better.
“Mind if I play something?” she asked.
He nodded his agreement, then realized she may not have seen it through the gloom. “Please, go ahead,” he said quietly.
Without further hesitation, she began a slow introduction to the piece of her choosing. It started small, then gradually built into something more, as most songs did.
Recognize the piece, he did not, but he didn’t care. It was beautiful, as were her dancing hands. It was one thing to play the instrument yourself, and quite another to sit by, listening to the message that another naturally conveyed as they poured everything they had into one magical ballad. To him, in that moment, the experience was equally as holy. The song was perfect, and she was perfect, despite him never having met her, or truly even seen her.
It ended all too soon, but even as the music vanished, her pure message remained in his heart.
“Wow…” he uttered reverently, his anxiety suddenly but a memory. “That was fantastic! I mean, you truly have a gift.”
He thought he could make out evidence of a smile as she turned her head to face him. “As do you,” she said gently. “I just wanted you to feel what you allowed me to feel.” There was a pause, then she added, “And it’s always fun to show off a bit.”
He couldn’t help it - there was no holding it in, as if he would ever want to - he laughed. Genuinely and fully. Nothing like the halfhearted chuckles he would occasionally offer at a bad joke, nor the fake smiles that crossed his face from time to time. This was real. For the first time in a large span of his existence, he felt true joy. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. It seemed to succor his soul, to heal all of his wounds and free him from his pain, if only for a moment, so he let the laughter continue, dragging on much farther than it likely should have. He relished in it until tears streamed down his face, while the girl beside him watched in what surely must have been confusion, or even concern.
Finally the laughter ran its course, allowing him to regain his composure enough to speak. “I’m sorry, it’s just… been a while since I laughed that hard.”
In that moment, he felt a tender hand on his shoulder, and heard a whisper, “Laughter is never something to be sorry about.”
All he wanted was for time to stop, and leave him in that place with her forever. She made him feel happy, something he hadn’t dared to believe was possible at this point. He knew that genuine kindness still existed within some, and this was one of those rare individuals. What strange feelings to be having for one whose name he knew not.
“I asked you before, but you didn’t say. Who are you?”
The hand was removed from his shoulder. “My name is Asta. What is yours?”
His mouth twitched, his hands unconsciously fiddling with the piano keys. Butterflies erupted in his stomach once more. Never before had such nerves racked his body at prospect of revealing his own name. But he simply couldn’t destroy whatever this was, so he forced as confident a reply as he could muster.
“Jay. My name is Jay.”
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Jay.”
For the first time, he looked directly at her, staring into those eyes he wished so desperately he could see. “Believe me, Asta, the pleasure is all mine.”
So how are you all doing on this fine night?
~Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself. It helps if you give yourself plenty of reasons~
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
12 Oct 2020, 09:46
Let's Chat!
Thank you, Lucia. I use Easy Paint Tool Sai (paid version) but sometimes I also use Clip Studio Paint.Lucia Fox wrote: 12 Oct 2020, 07:33 @Amanda Middleton oooh I live your new avatar! Which maker did you use? Me and Lily used Sangled.
@Griseldis Edelhardt hekabdiqkabsns that's so cuteeeeee
What art program do you use?
Stamina: 11 | Evasion: 10 | Strength: 10 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 12
Fearless|Martial Artist|Evasive Maneuvers|Obnoxiously Strong
Fearless|Martial Artist|Evasive Maneuvers|Obnoxiously Strong
12 Oct 2020, 14:05
Let's Chat!
Lucia Fox wrote: 12 Oct 2020, 07:33 @Amanda Middleton oooh I live your new avatar! Which maker did you use? Me and Lily used Sangled.
@Griseldis Edelhardt hekabdiqkabsns that's so cuteeeeee
What art program do you use?
Thanks Lucia! I actually ended up using piccrew like someone suggested!
Stamina: 3 - Evasion: 8 - Strength: 3 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane Power: 8 - Accuracy: 5 ~ Amanda Willow Middleton
12 Oct 2020, 14:24
Let's Chat!
It looks great!!Amanda Middleton wrote: 12 Oct 2020, 14:05Lucia Fox wrote: 12 Oct 2020, 07:33 @Amanda Middleton oooh I live your new avatar! Which maker did you use? Me and Lily used Sangled.
@Griseldis Edelhardt hekabdiqkabsns that's so cuteeeeee
What art program do you use?Thanks Lucia! I actually ended up using piccrew like someone suggested!
12 Oct 2020, 15:09
Let's Chat!
@Quinn Smith
Thank you! I liked how many options it gave for designing. (:
Yours looks really cool too! Did you draw it?
Stamina: 3 - Evasion: 8 - Strength: 3 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane Power: 8 - Accuracy: 5 ~ Amanda Willow Middleton
Thank you! I liked how many options it gave for designing. (:
Yours looks really cool too! Did you draw it?
Stamina: 3 - Evasion: 8 - Strength: 3 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane Power: 8 - Accuracy: 5 ~ Amanda Willow Middleton
12 Oct 2020, 15:11
Let's Chat!
Marshal Mozor wrote: 12 Oct 2020, 08:51 A little while back, I read somebody else's thread, loved it, and felt a strange urge to rewrite it in my own way. So here's my humble interpretation of the wonderful thread The Ling and Winding Road between Wyatt Starkey and Lindsey Springhall.
ReducioHe sat alone in the dark, the ivory keys the brightest thing in the cavernous room, his fingers gliding across them as a dove would in the sky. The notes echoed off the walls, bouncing back to him and creating a sorrowful cacophony that only served to amplify his solitude. And yet, somehow, he knew he needed it. What other way might he express the deepest emotions of his soul? In a letter to no one who cared? Or perhaps he could confide in a mirror, where the only person who understood his suffering would hear it?
No, there was simply not enough that words of any language could say, save the purest form of communication understood by all, even the magic that seemed to reside within music. Indeed, words were said, and they were heard; but music, in its most perfect form, was something to be felt in one’s heart. It was not the creation of the musician’s mind, but rather, the crying out of their soul, be it in joy or in pain. It was the very manifestation of that intangible thing that words could not hope to say.
And so he played, alone, having the need to cry out, and doing so in the most complete way he understood.
The darkness enclosed him like a blanket, leaving him with nothing but the music that filled the empty space. The room had become a holy space; a sanctuary to hide him from the world that had so heedlessly forsaken him. However, it would soon become clear that a piece of that very world refused to let him be, for he was not as truly alone as he believed - and certainly wished - he was.
Time escaped him, and the song came to an end almost without his realization, the final note singing its part as it faded into nothingness.
He sat still, hands resting upon the keys, eyes adrift in the darkness beyond the piano that anchored the center of his world. For a few moments he stayed that way, offering no indication of what he could be thinking to anyone that might see his face through the gloom, until a foreign sound shattered the solitary bubble of his creation.
“That was quite excellent,” came a female voice from one side, tinged with no small bit of admiration.
Having abandoned all sense of awareness, his heart soared much higher than it had any right to be, and took him with it, his hands flinching off the ivory keys as he brought them closer in an instinctively defensive motion. His eyes searched the space that the voice had emerged from, but all he could see was black, much the way his life had somehow turned out.
“Who… are you?” he managed to stutter uncertainly. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough feel your message,” came the voice again, slightly to one side of where he had been looking.
Snapping his gaze to that location, he squinted, but in vain. “How do you mean?”
“One doesn’t often sit alone in a big, dark room with a piano unless they’ve got something they can’t share anywhere else. I would know.”
Part of him wished that he had a light to see the newcomer’s face, though a different part only desired to stay hidden. After all, that was how he had taken to living. Better to hide from everything than to face the world and get hurt more than he already had.
He lowered his eyes back to the keys, one of the only things he could see apart from his own hand inches away from his face. “I guess I just thought I could be alone.”
“And you would have been,” said the girl, “except I had the same thought. But I can’t say I mind too much. I was mesmerized.”
He felt the heat rush to his face, giving him another reason to be glad for lack of lighting.
Though he could not see her, there was a lot you could tell of a person from their voice, if you listened closely enough. There seemed to a soft smile in everything the girl said, representing a sense of kindness and soothing that were so lacking in his experiences, to the point that he wasn’t sure if he even believed in it anymore.
He heard light footsteps. She was coming closer. In a bit of a panic, he glanced around the empty space, entirely unsure of what to do and ultimately doing nothing at all, merely clinging to the bench like it was the only life line he had left. She stopped right beside him, close enough that he could hear her breath, almost feel it. Squinting once more, he was able to make out a vague silhouette, but facial features and other details were still a mystery to him.
“May I sit?” she asked, gesturing to the bench he sat on.
He glanced down at the small space beside him on the seat and stared at it like an utter genius for a few silent moments, his flustered brain trying desperately to catch up to where it needed to be. There was no room. From what he could tell, the girl was rather petite, but even she would slide straight to the cold floor if she sat down.
After what surely must have been two hours, he realized that there was room enough on the opposite side of him to scoot over, allowing for the space the girl required to take a seat. He did so hastily and quite nearly ejected himself from the bench, a fate which he had feared for his new companion.
Having said nothing through the whole charade, the girl now planted herself on the bench, her arm lightly brushing his. He pulled away, telling himself that it was for the benefit of her personal space, and yet he knew better.
“Mind if I play something?” she asked.
He nodded his agreement, then realized she may not have seen it through the gloom. “Please, go ahead,” he said quietly.
Without further hesitation, she began a slow introduction to the piece of her choosing. It started small, then gradually built into something more, as most songs did.
Recognize the piece, he did not, but he didn’t care. It was beautiful, as were her dancing hands. It was one thing to play the instrument yourself, and quite another to sit by, listening to the message that another naturally conveyed as they poured everything they had into one magical ballad. To him, in that moment, the experience was equally as holy. The song was perfect, and she was perfect, despite him never having met her, or truly even seen her.
It ended all too soon, but even as the music vanished, her pure message remained in his heart.
“Wow…” he uttered reverently, his anxiety suddenly but a memory. “That was fantastic! I mean, you truly have a gift.”
He thought he could make out evidence of a smile as she turned her head to face him. “As do you,” she said gently. “I just wanted you to feel what you allowed me to feel.” There was a pause, then she added, “And it’s always fun to show off a bit.”
He couldn’t help it - there was no holding it in, as if he would ever want to - he laughed. Genuinely and fully. Nothing like the halfhearted chuckles he would occasionally offer at a bad joke, nor the fake smiles that crossed his face from time to time. This was real. For the first time in a large span of his existence, he felt true joy. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. It seemed to succor his soul, to heal all of his wounds and free him from his pain, if only for a moment, so he let the laughter continue, dragging on much farther than it likely should have. He relished in it until tears streamed down his face, while the girl beside him watched in what surely must have been confusion, or even concern.
Finally the laughter ran its course, allowing him to regain his composure enough to speak. “I’m sorry, it’s just… been a while since I laughed that hard.”
In that moment, he felt a tender hand on his shoulder, and heard a whisper, “Laughter is never something to be sorry about.”
All he wanted was for time to stop, and leave him in that place with her forever. She made him feel happy, something he hadn’t dared to believe was possible at this point. He knew that genuine kindness still existed within some, and this was one of those rare individuals. What strange feelings to be having for one whose name he knew not.
“I asked you before, but you didn’t say. Who are you?”
The hand was removed from his shoulder. “My name is Asta. What is yours?”
His mouth twitched, his hands unconsciously fiddling with the piano keys. Butterflies erupted in his stomach once more. Never before had such nerves racked his body at prospect of revealing his own name. But he simply couldn’t destroy whatever this was, so he forced as confident a reply as he could muster.
“Jay. My name is Jay.”
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Jay.”
For the first time, he looked directly at her, staring into those eyes he wished so desperately he could see. “Believe me, Asta, the pleasure is all mine.”
So how are you all doing on this fine night?
Wow, that's really well written!! What a sweet story. For me, it's actually morning, and a quite gloomy one at that. How about you?
Stamina: 3 - Evasion: 8 - Strength: 3 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane Power: 8 - Accuracy: 5 ~ Amanda Willow Middleton