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About Rayalia

  • Birthday 09/21/1999

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    Being a potato, but only on Tuesdays

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  1. fae magic fae magic fae magic faE MAGIC FAE MAGIC FAE MAGIC FAE MAG-
  2. [!] Somewhere, someone who has come across one such poster has taken to crossing out "Great Archlich Gashadokuro" and replaced it with the name "Soup", written in black crayon.
  3. "But when is he coming back?" Viviana Faustine d'Arkent Kortrevich was many things, but a fool was not one of them. All of eleven years old did the child recognize that the letter in her hands was proof that her Daid would not be coming home. He wouldn't be there for any further birthdays, no winters or new snows; he wouldn't see any of Leo's plays or share in her victory when she makes her very first clockworks trinket. There would be no more hugs or whispers or laughs and giggles. And he hadn't even come to say goodbye. The child crumples up the letter, forcing and scrunching it into a tight ball that gets thrown across her room into the furthest and dustiest corner, the bracelet tossed along with it. With a clink, the accessory bounces, then skitters to a stop, the pearl miraculously unbroken though newly scuffed. She turns away from the both of them, forcing herself onto her bed to burry beneath her growing collection of plushies, viciously chewing upon Pennepdragon's head. It's not enough. The youth doesn't cry - she hadn't cried in years, admittedly - but she does lay listless, depressed, for the few hours she goes undisturbed. It felt like she was laying, freezing once more, sick on that horrid couch in that horrid man's basement during that horrid month she'd been kept far from home. Abandoned. Alone. Eventually, there comes a knock on her door; her Papej, perhaps, or her borsa. The child lethargically sits up, pulls the soggy penguin from her clenched jaw, and turns to unlock her door and step outwards. The girl would one day retrieve the letter and the accompanying bracelet - maybe soon, maybe not, though inevitable and in the future - and undo what damage she had done as best she can. The bracelet would be revived and the pearl fixed, the letter would be smoothed out and kept safe in a solid box, emotions mended and hearts forgiven. But for now, the duo would gather dust, left behind and forgotten, just as she felt herself to be.
  4. Hello! Got a figura commission for you! Dm me on disc: rayalia
  5. An ear piercing shriek decorates the surrounding area, followed by the dull thud of a soggy penguin plushie - weighed down by child slobber - whacking a certain toddler upside the head.
  6. "(The) Hummingbird teaches us to transcend time, to recognize that what has happened in the past and what might happen in the future is not nearly as important as what we are experiencing now. It teaches us to hover in the moment, to appreciate its sweetness."- Constance Barrett Sohodski From sprout… The small elfess had cradled that seed, held it close as she traveled between two worlds, never once letting it out of reach. Together, they explored new lands, seeking, searching for a place to call home. Half submerged in water, the seed began to sprout. … to sapling… The ‘Ame, after great deliberation, ended up on a cliff near Balian. The soil was fertile, the air clear, the sun strong. The road, though in view, held almost no traffic to it, and beyond lay the sea. It was peaceful there, calming. She planted the sprout, small and young and weak as it was, and spent endless days and nights watching and waiting and listening. It was fed compost, given water, plucked free of any overly hungry critters and bugs. Nights turned into weeks and weeks into months and months into a year. … to tree. It bore no fruit - not yet, for it was too young - but its trunk began to grow strong. Now reaching towards the elfess’ knees, it no longer needed daily aid. The oceanic winds had forced it to adapt, to become sturdy or to topple. It didn’t need her to help it anymore, not truly. Her protection? Perhaps. But not her assistance with flourishing. And so she sat beside it, as she always did, and watched the world dance around them.
  7. If ST deny this, I'm rioting. Long awaited post, superb job to everyone who worked on this much needed update to the lore!!
  8. A young Mali'ame pauses in her path along the streets of a whitened city, her remaining hand lofting to lightly thumb at one of the missives upon the wall. Hesitantly, she carefully plucks the paper from its perch and returns to her abode. In the next few hours, she copies the missive down, word for word, over and over and over... One gets left upon the desk she works at, in clear view of the door, the rest, sent out through the aviary, to a very specific and particular group of people.
  9. 🙌 Healthy rp healthy rp healthy rp healthy rp-
  10. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CLASSY! THIS is proper plant lore! Loving the changes on the old stuff, I'll cry if ST don't accept this.
  11. What’s your favorite folklore/fairytale and can you retell it as if you were a rabbit that is late late late? (Bonus points for getting the reference)
  12. Based Critter post, definitely needs to be talked about. +1
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