Information
Sock
Legacy Name: Sock
The
Nostalgic WyllopOwner: Cathii
Age: 16 years, 9 months, 3 days
Born: July 21st, 2009
Adopted: 13 years, 8 months, 2 weeks ago
Adopted: August 6th, 2012
Statistics
- Level: 2
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 11
- Speed: 0
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 5
- Books Read: 5
- Food Eaten: 1
- Job: Unemployed
My name is Ama and I love socks.
When I was a kid, I lived down the stream of a very small and cold village in the north of Antarctica. We had this little house that my parent's grandparents' grand-grand parents had built centuries ago, but it was falling into pieces and we had nothing to patch it up. Since winters and summers are hardly any different here, a constant blast of wind would hit our windows, infiltrating between the gaps, chilling us to the bones. Even a fire would not hold its ground when the wind blew on its direction - of course, having the chimney in the middle of the house was no better, but it was not going to move.
Almost every night, my entire family of seven; my mother and father, my big brother, my two little sisters and baby Lia would huddle around the thin fire, circling it in hopes that our bodies would suffice to keep that lonely, single flame alive throughout the night. My whole body was rigid from the cold. Not just my body. There was this numbness in my heart that I could not chase away, a sense of coldness that emptied my mind of any good feeling. All of it would disappear when the first ray of sunlight would hit our face and my mother would push us outside to stretch out and make sure we keep our blood circulating for as long as it was clear outside. When finally I could feel my cheeks regain a little bit of their rosiness, my toes a little bit of blood in them, nightfall was upon us and we were right back to our fire, with our ragged and tattered socks that had more holes than they had wool on our trembling hands and feet.
Back a few years ago, I used to walk down the village and stick my frosty nose into the riches’ windows. I am not lying when I say that it was so warm inside, even my nose would temporarily feel better because of the window entrapping all the warmth within its sturdy stone walls. That's when I saw them. Socks. Hung near a chimney, toys and candies overflowing with them inside. Something about it, the waste perhaps of such valuable socks into objects of pure decoration, set me off. All my family ever had were old pair of boots that no one else but us wanted, two furred coats that always went to my little sisters and ragged socks that could not conceal the warmth of our toes and fingers more than a few minutes.
I do not know why, but before I realized it, I had smashed the window with a huge rock and ran away. A little bit of fresh air would not hurt, I thought.
It dawned upon me that only one pair of those woolen socks I had seen through that window could make it all better. A horrible, painful noise came from within me, and with a pang I ran back to look at the socks again. Out of desperation I smashed a few more windows in the alley and disturbed people's cozy little dinner. Right when everyone ran outside to see what was happening, I sneaked inside of the first house, grabbed the socks from the chimney and turned back to leave silently… but the warmth, oh the warmth of this place. I looked at the fire, wanting it to be bigger, stronger. I wanted to warm up like I hadn't warmed up in years. I looked around and started throwing everything I could find into it - glasses, journals, wood, and bottles. As the fire grew bigger, I threw the only thing I should not have thrown, only I did not know what it was: fragrant oil that smelt of apples and cinnamon. With a spark it lit up, fire blasting me away and sending me fly across the hallway. I collapsed to the floor, half dazed and unable to move. I only was able to sense an intense, burning sensation on my skin before I realized that fire had caught me. A weak smile, a few trembles, then I tripped outside the stairs outside and passed out.
I woke up buried in a thin coat of snow with people bent over me and came back to my senses. Oddly enough, I remembered everything but the only thing that I could truly grasp was this indescriptible feeling of warmth that had caught my skin only moments earlier... and I wanted to feel this again. I wanted not to be chilled to the bones tonight. After a few shouts from the crowd and mutters to the family whose house had now been burnt to the ground, I realized no one suspected me of being the cause to all this commotion.
So I swiftly blended with the crowd, making myself as small as I could while taking a sharp turn. My skin hurt so badly and yet felt so impossibly hot that I could not supress a smile. I looked across another window. And there were hung more pairs of socks on a nice little chimney, complete with sparkles and little bells, vowing me to grab them at once.
When I was a kid, I lived down the stream of a very small and cold village in the north of Antarctica. We had this little house that my parent's grandparents' grand-grand parents had built centuries ago, but it was falling into pieces and we had nothing to patch it up. Since winters and summers are hardly any different here, a constant blast of wind would hit our windows, infiltrating between the gaps, chilling us to the bones. Even a fire would not hold its ground when the wind blew on its direction - of course, having the chimney in the middle of the house was no better, but it was not going to move.
Almost every night, my entire family of seven; my mother and father, my big brother, my two little sisters and baby Lia would huddle around the thin fire, circling it in hopes that our bodies would suffice to keep that lonely, single flame alive throughout the night. My whole body was rigid from the cold. Not just my body. There was this numbness in my heart that I could not chase away, a sense of coldness that emptied my mind of any good feeling. All of it would disappear when the first ray of sunlight would hit our face and my mother would push us outside to stretch out and make sure we keep our blood circulating for as long as it was clear outside. When finally I could feel my cheeks regain a little bit of their rosiness, my toes a little bit of blood in them, nightfall was upon us and we were right back to our fire, with our ragged and tattered socks that had more holes than they had wool on our trembling hands and feet.
Back a few years ago, I used to walk down the village and stick my frosty nose into the riches’ windows. I am not lying when I say that it was so warm inside, even my nose would temporarily feel better because of the window entrapping all the warmth within its sturdy stone walls. That's when I saw them. Socks. Hung near a chimney, toys and candies overflowing with them inside. Something about it, the waste perhaps of such valuable socks into objects of pure decoration, set me off. All my family ever had were old pair of boots that no one else but us wanted, two furred coats that always went to my little sisters and ragged socks that could not conceal the warmth of our toes and fingers more than a few minutes.
I do not know why, but before I realized it, I had smashed the window with a huge rock and ran away. A little bit of fresh air would not hurt, I thought.
It dawned upon me that only one pair of those woolen socks I had seen through that window could make it all better. A horrible, painful noise came from within me, and with a pang I ran back to look at the socks again. Out of desperation I smashed a few more windows in the alley and disturbed people's cozy little dinner. Right when everyone ran outside to see what was happening, I sneaked inside of the first house, grabbed the socks from the chimney and turned back to leave silently… but the warmth, oh the warmth of this place. I looked at the fire, wanting it to be bigger, stronger. I wanted to warm up like I hadn't warmed up in years. I looked around and started throwing everything I could find into it - glasses, journals, wood, and bottles. As the fire grew bigger, I threw the only thing I should not have thrown, only I did not know what it was: fragrant oil that smelt of apples and cinnamon. With a spark it lit up, fire blasting me away and sending me fly across the hallway. I collapsed to the floor, half dazed and unable to move. I only was able to sense an intense, burning sensation on my skin before I realized that fire had caught me. A weak smile, a few trembles, then I tripped outside the stairs outside and passed out.
I woke up buried in a thin coat of snow with people bent over me and came back to my senses. Oddly enough, I remembered everything but the only thing that I could truly grasp was this indescriptible feeling of warmth that had caught my skin only moments earlier... and I wanted to feel this again. I wanted not to be chilled to the bones tonight. After a few shouts from the crowd and mutters to the family whose house had now been burnt to the ground, I realized no one suspected me of being the cause to all this commotion.
So I swiftly blended with the crowd, making myself as small as I could while taking a sharp turn. My skin hurt so badly and yet felt so impossibly hot that I could not supress a smile. I looked across another window. And there were hung more pairs of socks on a nice little chimney, complete with sparkles and little bells, vowing me to grab them at once.
Pet Treasure
Bright Cozy Socks
Cece Coast Striped Socks
Black and White Pumpkin Knee Socks
Chocolate Colored Socks
Plum Jingle Bell Socks
Honey Socks
Red Jingle Bell Socks
Green Jingle Bell Socks
Golden Cozy Socks
Cozy Winter Socks
Brown Jingle Bell Socks
Blue Cozy Socks
Black Cozy Socks
Fire Defense Baguette Crystal
Fire Defense Tear Crystal
Physical Defense Baguette Crystal
Physical Defense Tear Crystal
Light Defense Baguette Crystal
Light Defense Tear Crystal
Wind Defense Baguette Crystal
Wind Tear Crystal
El Wood