"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
you are not the only one
with truth like poison in their veins
On a quest for power, she returned to the Spectral Marsh. This was the place where she had confessed that she was willing to follow Kaos, to listen to him and do whatever it was he asked of her. He had power, could create destruction, and yet was an amazing deceiver. All qualities of which Kiada had grown up to desire. The day was beginning to break across the horizon as her and Khairi approached. The trees nearby casted long, dark shadows that crossed the glassy surface of the marsh. It was an ominous place, yet Kiada wasn’t scared. She felt more at home than she ever did before.
It didn’t take long until she found the altar in the center, a structure that glowed with brilliant blue symbols. Khairi circled the altar with a small smug grin on his face, before swooping down toward Kiada. His bright red eyes trailed up to her own icy ones before he hopped closer to it. “I like it” He grumbled to her through their bond. Kiada let a small laugh escape, rolling her spotted shoulders, the hint of scars seen within her gilded hide. She began to concentrate on the obelisk, wondering what exactly would happen if you touched it.
At first, she turned her head back toward her neck where she kept the Kaos amulet she had found, briefly touching it and wondering if the altar felt the same, or more powerful. When she turned her head back to the altar, she knew she had to find out. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, extending her dark muzzle toward the smooth surface of the altar. Her ears strained forward to listen for anything while Khairi kept an eye on their surroundings. Then, when the flames that danced across her back exploded with deer and her curiosity was peaked, she finally pushed forward and pressed her pink splotched muzzle onto the black stone.
She left the boy Thief to his wandering, slipping away from the light drenched beach no sooner than she might, cautious to skirt about whatever vagabond trails might linger in the wake, too, of the General. Though not necessarily apt to secrecy about that which she believed potent and, thusly, important, the wicked one had ears, and she had seen, too, the others recoil at the sight and word of Kaos’ treachery. Though she would never condemn her God, she certainly, also, would avoid having to defend herself from other’s malevolence, if need be.
She had better things to do, you see.
The day lengthened into eve, the meandering demoness arriving in the last, deeply golden hours of the afternoon as it was swallowed beneath the comfortable black cloaks of the Moon’s rule, when the trees were the longest, their depths the darkest, and their dead branches stretched far across the soggy earth. Increasing speed as she broaches the realm of the many-God, her lower body is soon splattered with dark, almost black mud, each down stride of her canter provoking voluminous response from the putrefied loam below. No longer white as ivory, but stained from the belly down in dark murk, her pale, stringy tresses glutted with partially dried globs of mud and mire, the witch does not seem to care.
Her giggles arrive before her, though her eyes soon find the other one here, too. Crooning lustfully at the miraculous image of the Obelisk, greedily glancing for sight of the bone behemoth, the vile maiden is left with none but the child and the obsidian pillar, for her searching.
They will do, she supposes, meandering closer, her head sloping downwards, her wild eyes roving maliciously (as they do over all things) across Kiada’s snow capped, golden pelt. Beloved does not remember her, but a chord is struck within the bitch, one that lingers, that throbs, that demands she takes notice: stopping, her peculiarly pretty face tilts, her lips twisting into the smile that smashes that perfection into bloodied shards.
"Hello," she giggles, her child’s voice like syrup, an ear twitching to the pillar, as if it speaks, her head tilting rightwards in suit, "Beloved is not sure one should touch it, without permission."
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill.
Image & Table by Me
Quote from Keith Douglas' How to Kill
you are not the only one
with truth like poison in their veins
“Someone here.” Khairi’s guttural voice pressed through their bond as Kiada’s nose felt the cool, smooth pillar. Her eyes closing slightly, trying to ignore who it might be that chose to interrupt this. Would they think her strange for wanting to touch it? To get closer to the day where the bone creature walked the earth, destroying everything in its path? She didn’t have much time to dwell, as the voice reached across the clearing toward her, childish and giggly. When she pulled her head away from it, she expected to see some sort of child standing there, but when she set her eyes on the unicorn, she was really everything she didn’t expect.
This mare was strange, but Kiada felt drawn to her in a way. A small giggle escaped her lips as she looked down to the mare, beaming almost prideful as the flames across her back danced in a display of prowling lions. “Ah, Beloved, is it?” She questioned, dipping her head in greeting to the strange mare, assuming that the name the mare had uttered was her own. It reminded her of the way Arakh spoke, talking of himself instead of using simple words as “I”.
“I touched it, nothing seemed to happen. It’s cold, though, and feels great” She purred, stepping aside and allowing room for Beloved if she so wished to touch the altar as well. “Do you want to see?” She questioned with another purr, excitement at the possibilities of what might happen if they continued to linger around here, as well as anticipation from wondering if the mare was as strange as she was. Would she take her up on the offer? Would she be as strange and dark as she? Khairi cawed from his place beside the altar, scarlet eyes watching the mare curiously, his feathers ruffled in the same excitement that lingered in Kiada’s chest.
The girl, for that is what she is – young, doe-eyed, her body and mind equally small, and subject to the mold into which it is pressed – looks up with frosty eyes, their depths alive with a light that had not flooded the woman starting back at her for many, many years. Born twisted, as fate bid her, the black iron had only rusted and warped further, until what remained was a festering, unrecognizable mass of shards and bends, which laughs, a haunting song, in remark to the stupid question the babe gives the wind first.
Run, almost beckons the demoness of her discovered, flame-embellished rabbit, but for the chime of laughter which had, momentarily, joined her own, a rapturous lure for a beast unchained, and the creatures themselves, dancing with fervor along the back of the black-masked girl. Though she does not reply, merely stares, her laughter silenced suddenly for a thought which leaps away no sooner than it arrives, the damned damsel is all the more haunting in stillness, her two-toned gaze narrowing on the young one as she continues to speak.
She comes, as she is invited, but would do as she pleased, no matter what the girl had to say about it. Sidling, curves swaying, the diminutive witch slips towards the Obelisk, her lips gently brushing its smooth face. Her breath leaves a misty half ring that fades with each inhalation, widening as she exhales, and after the third rebirth of this peculiar, damp moon, she pulls her crown away, immediately disgusted with the whole charade, and the girl especially, who had beguiled her into looking foolish in the first place.
The Obelisik feels of stone: cold, and uninspiring. Her God is not here, in the obsidian!
With a sudden cackle and a lashing strike of her blade, the black-hearted one aims to merely frighten her, not actually land the blow. If it does, however, Beloved has little pity for the slow, or weak, and certainly has no friendship to give anyone, much less those she’d as soon leave to dust and decay.
"Dreaming child," she condemns of Kiada’s words, her scowl in odd contrast to the babbling giggles that stammer about her phrases, "it feels as rock does. Do you not even know what power is?"
[ OOC: Oh look old and grumpy and rather disappointed its just a rock obviously Kiada's fault ahahaha ]
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill.
Image & Table by Me
Quote from Keith Douglas' How to Kill
you are not the only one
with truth like poison in their veins
The creature stills, staring and narrowing her two-toned eyes on the Edge’s princess. A smirk began to rest on the pink splotched lips of the girl as she watched the woman, entirely unafraid. She was strange, but then again, Kiada was also strange. And she relished in the idea of two strange people pressing their faces against the cold stone of the obelisk that had arrived with such destruction. A hunger yearning deep beneath her gilded flesh for Kaos to appear and show himself to them, despite knowing that the chances were slim.
Silently, her icy eyes watched the mare as she approached, pressing her lips against the obelisk before pulling away and suddenly cackling, then even attacking her. Immediately, Kiada began to rear, keeping her knees tight to her chest to avoid the strike from the blade as Khairi’s angry cry screamed dauntingly into the sky. His powerful beak wide and scarlet eyes glaring at the woman until Kiada had managed to calm herself. Yet, she hadn’t been completely successful in avoiding the sharp edges of the knife. Instead, the tiniest of cuts, creating a small pale line where fur had been shaved off was seen on her left foreleg from her attempt at evading.
With her pale rimmed ears flush against her skull, she glared down at the woman. Another small laugh escaping her lips as her eyes narrowed and her flames began to turn into prowling wolves and striking snakes. “You expected more than a stone?” She questioned with a cock of her head, her ivory forelock falling over one of her sapphire eyes. “That is all it is. Mungu wangu anaishi katika nchi hii, si kukwama katika jiwe.” She began to growl, knowing that the mare wouldn’t understand her father’s tongue. And if she did, she would be entirely surprised. Regardless, as she glared down to the woman, she felt the magic pulling deep within her, a dark grin spread across her lips as three small flickers began to encompass the earth around the trio. “Najua nguvu”
"Talk." Mungu wangu anaishi katika nchi hii, si kukwama katika jiwe. - my god lives in this land, not stuck in a stone. Najua nguvu - I know power.
The wicked one does not like the sneering wench, wet behind the ears and naïve of mind, much more than she likes the Sun, or the petulant mortals who bid her do as they will, as if she is not more than they are, by her very nature alone. Narrowing her eyes hatefully, nostrils draconic and shivering as they drink in the air, eager to draw the perfume of blood in, her tittering laughter becomes the bark of a wild scoff when the babe prattles on in some foreign tongue.
Unconcerned with the fire that rises around her at the child’s bidding, the undying one lifts her crown, and cackles, her ears never lifting, and her haunting gaze unwavering.
You have claimed to reclaim, self-ignorant brat.
"Pandering fools and witless children hide behind words others cannot understand. They make meaningless sound and feed that small, impotent rage, their words like diminutive knives, their eyes the sheathes…" she trails off, her giggles becoming her only sounds for a while, her gaze occasionally growing unnervingly distant, whilst unblinkingly holding fast to the appaloosa princess, "We are a sword, the mouth lined with wet, hungry teeth. You contradict yourself, core brittle as glass. Should we strike you, to test? Would you shatter, as your actions imply?"
Stepping towards Kiada, Beloved’s head lowers menacingly, and the demoness’ tail strikes her sides in slow, cadent arcs, her crown occasionally tilting with peculiar twitches towards the right, or left. Her tongue, glistening, touches her lips sensually as she giggles, and speaks, as if the slow trickle of blood which marks the golden breast of the filly is already upon her mouth.
"How have you died?" inquires the witch, stopping, aiming to trace her horn along the outline of the youth’s chest, her gaze fluttering down from those pale, icy eyes, to the flesh barring the precious beat of her heart from the wicked one’s visage, "Beloved thinks never. Perhaps it is time you tried."
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill.
Image & Table by Me
Quote from Keith Douglas' How to Kill
you are not the only one
with truth like poison in their veins
Khairi’s scarlet eyes remained on the girl, his beak slightly open as a haunting, shrill call began to slip from his throat. While Kiada, aiming her magic further, letting it begin to boil deep within her to be released, began to increase the flickering flames along them. They flicked and spun, spiraling and licking at the oxygen surrounding the two as the girl began to speak. It was amusing to Kiada, who now was listening as Beloved spoke of her language being meaningless. “She not know power.” Came Khairi’s voice through their bond. A small snicker of a laugh escaping Kiada at the thought while Beloved grew quiet, her giggles the only sound remaining as she stared at the princess.
“It doesn’t make you a fool to speak in another language, Beloved.” Came Kiada’s sultry voice, as if she was talking down to a child. “It shows the fact that I could speak to many and none, at the same time.” She offered a careless smirk to the girl with a shake of her head, the flames along her back licking the sky as prowling wolves, as if a pack were on a hunt. Beloved began to step closer to Kiada, yet the girl backed away from her, releasing the fiery tornado magic as she did so.
Her vulture’s haunting screech began to grow louder, stronger as his wings lifted and began to flap wildly, aiming to capture Beloved’s odd gaze, his magic beginning to pour through him. If only she looked him in the eye, would the magic be released, a paralyzingly painful effect, sure to stop the girl in her tracks. Oh, they knew power, but they weren’t about to shed lives around an obelisk that may or may not directly impact Kaos.
She began to speak of death, and Kiada snorted to the girl, moving away each time Beloved stepped closer. Her horn traced the outline of Kiada’s chest, though a thankful distance away, as Kiada’s own head lowered. Her sharp, curved horn pointing back at Beloved. “Do you think now is the time? When we could be working together for Kaos? Instead of threatening each other with meaningless deaths?” She questioned while Khairi hummed his song from the obelisk.
The voice was a whisper that breathed through the altar, causing the blue-teal markings on its side to pulse gently with the rhythm of the Kaos' veiled mouth.
“........instead be rewarded.....”
Two flowers (which appeared to be lilies dusted in black ash) suddenly sprang from the earth at the hooves of Kiada and Beloved. Despite the black petals, each flower seemed to glimmer somewhat, before bending over to deposit a necklace at the respected hooves of both unicorns.
“This is a gift......given only to those clever enough to not be fooled by the paltry promises and the lies perpetrated by those tricked by the four reigning Gods of this land. Things will soon change.....If you would like to stand by me, I can open doors that you didn't even know existed. I can give you power beyond measure. I will never again lie to you, but will always be honest. These necklaces mark you as those strong enough to think for themselves ........ they will also allow me to contact you........"
The symbols grow faint as Kaos' voice fades away.
If you would like to become an agent of Kaos, take your necklace!
Post the following in records updates:
:: [Item: Kaos necklace | An onyx necklace with a glowing teal eye in the center]
04-18-2017, 08:36 AM (This post was last modified: 04-18-2017, 08:36 AM by Beloved.)
B e l o v e d
Already damned, she would be nothing if she allowed a child to speak to her with such disrespect. What was paltry magic, easily shorn away by the unraveling of those who had loaned it to her? What were flames, to one who would simply rise again from them, whole, again and again, to eternally chase the unfortunate through the remainder of their hours? Grains of sand in an inverted jar, they were, or beings trapped beneath ice, in swiftly chilling waters. Beloved stood over them, outside the glass, over the frost, aloft without wings.
She smiles, and cackles. While, at first, it’s a maddened titter, the more the little wench carries on, the harder she laughs, until her neck is curled down into her breast, and tears leak from her wild eyes. Rising, loudly, the guffaw of the wicked one suddenly stills, her harsh whisper of inhalation cutting the babbling sound of her voice like a knife.
"We may weave and cast vain airs, too. Behold! Kunt thabat 'ahmaq," mocks (you are proven a fool, in the tongue of her foremothers, and but one of many she has learned in over thirty years of ever-life, and the only one of which she truly recalls the origin) and croons onward the demoness, over the crackle of Kiada’s fires, "what power lies within breath one cannot comprehend, commands none may follow? It is fair you do not know, Child of Fire. You hold sight of very few Moons, and have walked but one thread in the weave of All."
In so far as not killing her, the witch’s eyes narrow, her lips curving into a twisted, broad grin. Who suffers death, of those here?
Not she.
"You will die, then?" she cackles, almost as amused by this truth as she is by the brazen nature of mortal children, "we are not the same. What would togetherness forge with such soft metal at its heart?"
Pretty but frail, this brat, and Beloved doesn’t arm herself with ornaments, at least not such sizeable ones. She is to tell the fire-wielder as much next, when, suddenly, a voice reaches through their conversation (for the wicked one, however bestial, however hungry, does not consider this an argument so much as an affront to what she considers common decency, owed to whatever feeble twines bind her to such courteousness). Her eyes shoot about the world, finding purchase on the glow of the Altar, and suddenly, she forgets that she’d been chiding the girl at all, or speaking of the Dark, for the Dark is among them.
As He speaks of the pendants, she looks to them, her eyes following the arc of the flowers which had deposited them, and roving across the metallic gleam of the necklace itself. Swiftly, without much thought, she does as she is told, eager to lay claim to the power he promises.
"Guide us to these doors," she laughs, her grin dark, and growing all the more malevolent the more terrible boons she promptly imagines herself receiving.
What was fire, to that? she madly giggles to herself as she inspects her new trinket and the reflection of her features on its metallic faces, as if she’s forgotten Kiada is there at all.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill.
Image & Table by Me
Quote from Keith Douglas' How to Kill
Tag Beloved, please!
Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D
you are not the only one
with truth like poison in their veins
A deep crystal glare bore into the creature’s face. A smile and a cackle erupts from her, then harder and harder, tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Kiada’s brows furrowed together in frustration, confusion, what was so funny that she was dying in laughter in front of her? Then, as if someone dropped a curtain on the laughter, Beloved was quiet, beginning to mock her. Kiada’s lips pulled back slightly, baring her teeth at the girl with her lowered head.
She rambles on and on about softness and weakness, and how she was young – but from what Kiada saw with Beloved, she was young too. Unless of course, looks weren’t everything? Her brows furrowed further and her teeth bared wider as Khairi began his screeching, even deeper and maniac in his anger. It continued in a menagerie of screams and bellows before an unfamiliar sound crossed them.
A sharp snort escaped her lips at first as she began to breathe again, having held her breath to snap at Beloved once again. Do not bicker. The command came, immediately her head turned toward the obelisk she had previously pressed her face into. Then, at her feet, flowers sprouted and sparkled with beauty and darkness before dropping a necklace at both their feet. Khairi’s caws had stopped and he was simply at awe of what happened from such a tense situation.
Kaos’ voice grumbled further, offering a chance for them to stand by him, and immediately Kiada glimpsed at Beloved with an almost “I told you so” type of look. As Kiada began to bend down to pick up the necklace, Khairi hopped down to the earth and picked it up in his beak, stretching the necklace across his bonded’s neck, situating it nicely next to the charm of her twin and companion. “I will fight for you.” She murmured to the shrine before glancing at Beloved before taking her leave.
A flourish of black ravens suddenly errupted from some unseen perch and took to the sky. The sound was that of laughter.
"You will see the doors when the time comes." Kaos' voice continued, warm, proud, and decisive. "There will be much to do in the coming weeks...You two are strong, and are my first. My chosen. But others will be required, for the tasks that I have for you are vital, and so there must be others to complete more minor tasks...If you find any who you believe are worthy, bring them back here to me..."
She does not remember the other one, even when she answers the God in her own turn. Beloved sees only the trinket, the pillar, and the unseen shimmer of her Master’s presence. His words fill her, retrieve her eyes from where they stare at the gift he has bestowed her, so that they flicker and dance upon the smooth, rising face of the obsidian pillar, looming in the shadow realm of the marsh.
When the time comes, he promises, and she nods, gurgling her consent, and delight. Though she has “served” within the north, her heart was fickle as it was fetid; she held no loyalty to the Boy Lords of the Winter Realm, nor did she truly care for what became of Helovia anymore than she did the other kingdoms which had fallen to ash and ruin around her. She would walk away, as she always had, or she would rise, rise, rise, until her shadow stood taller than the rest, and her lips were ever rested upon the throbbing, heady pulse of power.
Chosen, he calls her, and within her whole body a hot rush of longing and sated desire wells within her, fulfillment and need entwined into one throbbing sensation that draws a moan from her lips, which are wetted by a tongue pink and supple.
"Yes, Master," she pledges, waiting until she is told to depart: the perfect bitch, if the wolf were suitable, as a God of Many Lives most assuredly was. She had, after all, once served a mere mortal man as Master, and though his heart was as black as the pillar which rose before her, now, and his teeth eternally red with the blood of his foes, Oblivion had been nothing more than flesh. She had had considered, too, heeding the whims of the Reaper, for a time, before she had slipped into the comfort of the cool ever-dark... but was glad she had not. As had her skull-crowned Lord of Shadow, so too had the Lord of Death died. What pitiful things she had chosen to follow, or take heed in. Such mistakes she would not make again, surely, if she chose to walk beneath the wing of Kaos, the Many-God. "As you wish."
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill.
Image & Table by Me
Quote from Keith Douglas' How to Kill
Tag Beloved, please!
Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D
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