Information



Calvea
Legacy Name: Calvea


The Bloodred Tigrean
Owner: Talis

Age: 11 years, 3 months, 1 day

Born: January 17th, 2013

Adopted: 7 years, 7 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: August 30th, 2016

Statistics


  • Level: 5
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 5
     
  • Books Read: 4
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Cleaning Crew


The year was 1855. They were madly in love. A perfect pair, Calvea and her adoring newly-wed husband Edward. He was a legendary doll maker in London. His works were sought after by thousands. The intricate details he put into his work were miraculous: the innocent eyes, the perfect amount of blush, quaffed curls, tiny satin lace and silk dresses. At first glance they all seemed to be real. Their silence was the only incentive that they were fabricated. And still, amongst all his perfect pieces of art, he revered and raved his wife the most beautiful of all.

Little did they know that proclaim held more truth than one might assume

One day, the famous doll-maker's wife grew ill. When she passed, Calvea's body could mysteriously not be found. Edgar was called into question but released not long after pleading the tale he hadn't the slightest clue where his adoring wife could have gone and he was just as fraught as her family.

Not long after, her adoring Edgar joined her in death. Many assumed it was the heart ache that killed him. Though they could never know for sure; his body, too, has yet to be found. It was assumed that their love was so pure that they couldn't live without the other

Hundreds of years later, it's much closer to 'modern times'. 1945, I'd loosely guess. The lovely victorian shop was being renovated by it's new owner: a young man preparing it to be a new chocolate shop. Measuring the walls to see how much crown molding her would require, his foot steps thud and echo against a hollow and loose floor board. "Hmm." He cocks a brow and examined closely. Prying his finger nails along the seemingly loose edges, he seems to have triggered a mechanism. Suddenly, boards swing up slowly with the moan of a rusty hung. Within, a stair case leads down into the darkness...

to be continued

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