Information
Boneyard
Legacy Name: Boneyard
The
Nostalgic WaradorOwner: Cathii
Age: 16 years, 2 months, 4 days
Born: February 8th, 2010
Adopted: 16 years, 2 months, 4 days ago
Adopted: February 8th, 2010
Statistics
- Level: 108
- Strength: 395
- Defense: 146
- Speed: 156
- Health: 692
- HP: 692/692
- Intelligence: 362
- Books Read: 354
- Food Eaten: 91
- Job: Unemployed
It will be alright. It will be alright. It will be alright. It will...
Someone nearby cries. My eyes open abruptly and reality sinks in once more. This is my garden, my home that I can see afar but it is no longer the peaceful haven I had built years ago. Walls are devastated, vines creeping onto its surface carelessly, breaking everything on their way. Every plant has faltered, having had no love nor care for months now. I recoil into a corner and convince myself that it was only a bird, knowing fully well that it was not.
It was a warm summer when they arrived into our town, forcing us to either flee or hide. The dusty wind created by their path of destruction had turned into a senseless cold. My teeth are shattering, my frail body wrapped in a thin fleece blanket, craving for some warmth that october is not granting us. It would be so easy to slip into the darkness. But then I remember that right here lies the darkness ; hunger and fatigue threatening to eat me away painfully. If anything, I would be slipping into oblivion.
The thoughts haunt me but something catches my attention. A wildcat has managed to find the cave in which I had found refuge, a rather small creature no more than a few months old. He looks at me for a moment, wary of this new presence, but quickly he crawls under the blanket, right against my feet. In this very moment, we are both solitary creatures looking for the faintest sense of affection, and this is enough to appreciate each other's presence. I feel his body shivering against my feet and pick him up. Something in the depth of his eyes echoes my own fears and desperation. I close my eyes tightly to chase the feeling away until nightmares threaten to overcome me. Over and over again.
Days pass and food becomes scarce. My companion has brought a few squirrels back, but having no means or intentions to start a fire, I am confined to small berries picked at the edge of the forest. Without my knowledge, days turn into months, months turn into years. Snow has covered the hills with a heavy white coat.
I begin to question the existence I have lived thus far and what it means to still be here. I might have slipped into a dream, I do not know. I can still hear cries of help and desperation behind the hill, loud and echoing but somehow also very distant. My bones are still aching, my garden still destroyed. My eyes still swollen. But somehow it must be a dream, because how would I still be alive otherwise.
Maybe I am not really alive.
Someone nearby cries. My eyes open abruptly and reality sinks in once more. This is my garden, my home that I can see afar but it is no longer the peaceful haven I had built years ago. Walls are devastated, vines creeping onto its surface carelessly, breaking everything on their way. Every plant has faltered, having had no love nor care for months now. I recoil into a corner and convince myself that it was only a bird, knowing fully well that it was not.
It was a warm summer when they arrived into our town, forcing us to either flee or hide. The dusty wind created by their path of destruction had turned into a senseless cold. My teeth are shattering, my frail body wrapped in a thin fleece blanket, craving for some warmth that october is not granting us. It would be so easy to slip into the darkness. But then I remember that right here lies the darkness ; hunger and fatigue threatening to eat me away painfully. If anything, I would be slipping into oblivion.
The thoughts haunt me but something catches my attention. A wildcat has managed to find the cave in which I had found refuge, a rather small creature no more than a few months old. He looks at me for a moment, wary of this new presence, but quickly he crawls under the blanket, right against my feet. In this very moment, we are both solitary creatures looking for the faintest sense of affection, and this is enough to appreciate each other's presence. I feel his body shivering against my feet and pick him up. Something in the depth of his eyes echoes my own fears and desperation. I close my eyes tightly to chase the feeling away until nightmares threaten to overcome me. Over and over again.
Days pass and food becomes scarce. My companion has brought a few squirrels back, but having no means or intentions to start a fire, I am confined to small berries picked at the edge of the forest. Without my knowledge, days turn into months, months turn into years. Snow has covered the hills with a heavy white coat.
I begin to question the existence I have lived thus far and what it means to still be here. I might have slipped into a dream, I do not know. I can still hear cries of help and desperation behind the hill, loud and echoing but somehow also very distant. My bones are still aching, my garden still destroyed. My eyes still swollen. But somehow it must be a dream, because how would I still be alive otherwise.
Maybe I am not really alive.