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About doreebear

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  • Gender
  • Interests
    your mom

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Nataliya | Ysidorá | Yaşamın
  • Character Race
    Highlander, Illatian

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  1. A woman could be seen reading the missive in her dimly lit chamber, her eyes mirroring the sky above, scanning line after line, paragraph after paragraph, until she came to a standstill, her eyes expanded at the names listed. She elevated a dark brow before parting her lips to speak. "My child, what have you done. . ."
  2. A woman stood in her room, reading the letter, her brow wrinkled in perplexity, how could someone be so cruel to such an innocent creature? It struck a chord in her heart, and she knew what she had to do. The woman then took her tawny hands, shredding the letter, and tossed it into the flames. She then turned her dazzling gaze to the armor in the corner of her chamber, which she hadn't worn in years. "Avenge the fallen," she said quietly.
  3. Ysidora would be seen conversing with her dear friend Marion. A look of shock lingered upon her visage after hearing such news. The Vasoyevi and her dramatic self, threw her hands upward as she spoke.”This is why I scolded you at that duma, stuff like this will HAPPEN!” She shook her hands.”but noooo, no one ever listens to sweet Ysidora, because I am too much of a pacifist!” she huffed in frustration.
  4. "ow, ouch, ow!" the tiny Illatian repeated as she was hauled away from the Oren square by her ear, her shoddy snowman staring at her with lifeless beady eyes as she was dragged away for a scolding for causing such a ruckus among her family. "mamma! you have to understand! I found a replacement! you can't be upset."
  5. [!] In Almaris, a crudely constructed snowman would sit in the middle of the town squares everywhere, with a letter attached to it. Salutamu! I am Yaşamın! and I am in search of my father! well, I am pretty sure my actual father is dead! but please help me find this man, he is my new papa! I met him when I snuck out of my family's house, in search of my really Pappa who went to go get cigarettes, it's alright, like I said he's probably dead. but I need to find this one, so please help me! I drew a description of him and his name. His name is Lucian, and he has a funny accent that makes me giggle, mr. pappa if you see this, please leave a letter on one of my mr. snowmanses From: Yaşamın [!] a dried splotch stained the paper, as if a child had eaten some snow from her snowmen, and coughed onto the missive by accident. A small Illatian would be seen waddling around Oren, having returned to her snowman, only to see another write a response on her sign, seizing the paper before turning around to shout. "HEY! WHERE'S MY PAPPA?! WHO WROTE THIS?!"
  6. ew I'm 20 now...feels weird

  7. A small vasoyevi could be spotted by her friend's side, getting word of Raevir's death. The woman produced a strained grin while dropping her head once. As she saunters down the steps, she mulls over all the awful interactions she's had with such a man. "I hope he found peace. . "
  8. o7 adios mi amigo! take care!
  9. A vasoyevi would be seen reading the letter in her chambers, her brows wrinkled over the title Azdromoth "I pray to Godan that those devils are dealt with quickly," she said, her jaws clenching in anger.
  10. Despite our disagreements and conflicts, you were one of the first people I encountered on this server who was courteous to me and always included me in your rp. I'm glad you're able to distance yourself from the server and move on with your life! I'll miss our beautiful friendship and our silly shenanigans. You have a kind and compassionate heart! take it easy breezy belle! you will be missed! love you girl. <333
  11. Ysidorá Jelisavetá sat in her home in Vasoyeva, reading the letter sent to her and her people. Upon hearing the archmage's requests, her face would be filled with surprise and dread. "The firstborn... how atrocious." she exclaimed as she rose from her seat, appalled. Soon after, she tore the letter up, trying to leave no traces behind. "This city is on its final legs, barely... this is what Ursula prophesied, this is our fault. . . . God help us."
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