Legacy Name: Gwendalyn
The Galactic Tigrean
Age: 9 years, 2 days
Born: September 20th, 2012
Adopted: 5 years, 7 months, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: February 1st, 2016
- Level: 6
- Strength: 16
- Defense: 15
- Speed: 16
- Health: 16
- HP: 16/16
- Intelligence: 4
- Books Read: 1
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Your friend Gothique has given you the pet Gwendalyn!
Female, druid, modern times
My mother is dead.
The funeral was today. I watched as the pews of our little church slowly filled with people. Familiar faces trying their hardest to show just the right amount of grief, all for the sake of my father and I. Letting us know they cared.
It was a short but good service. Not divulging too deep into our personal lives, but painting an accurate picture of the mother I had known for the past 16 years of my life nonetheless.
Once outside I watched impassively as the casket that held my mother's dead body was lowered into a hole in the ground. My father's arm wrapped around my shoulders, meant to provide me with warmth and comfort, did little to keep the cold autumn air from seeping through my jacket and into my bones.
My mother now irrevocably gone, the mourners settled into a queue, like shoppers standing in line at the supermarket, to pay their final respects before rushing off to their toasty warm cars and happy homes.
As I stood wrapped up in the arms of my high school guidance counsellor — one of those too long, too intimate embraces that just never seem to end — I noticed a cluster of women looking at me from the sidewalk outside the church gates. I'd seen a few of them before. Chatting with my mother at the grocery store or on the street outside our house. She'd never actually introduced me to any of them, I now realised.
Why were they standing out there? Attendance in church had been good, but surely there had still been seats left over. Unless of course they were members of some devil-worshipping cult doomed to spontaneously combust should they dare to step onto consecrated ground.
I chuckled lightly at the thought, but it must have sounded like sobs, because suddenly I was thrust back, leaving the warmth of the overly familiar lady's endless embrace. She held onto my shoulders for a couple more seconds.
Her teary eyes searched my face. For the signs of a sudden uncontrollable breakdown I'm sure. I must have passed because in another abrupt move she deposited me into the arms of whoever was next in line.
Glancing back toward the gate I hoped to catch another glimpse of the cultists. No such luck, however. They had left already and soon I forgot all about them as well.
color ideas: arid (name means "white circle"), glade/harvest (to match the druid angle)
species idea: none whatsoever x'D
Mothers Day Child Hand Plaster
Sunlit Graveyard Sticker
Verdi Sidhe Enchanted Lantern