Information
Sheba_378 has a minion!
Cherry the Glabbit
Cherry the Glabbit
Sheba_378
Legacy Name: Sheba_378
The
Glade DevontiOwner:
nora_499Age: 19 years, 7 months, 2 weeks
Born: September 18th, 2004
Adopted: 14 years, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: April 16th, 2010
Pet Spotlight Winner
May 25th, 2011
Statistics
- Level: 36
- Strength: 100
- Defense: 88
- Speed: 86
- Health: 86
- HP: 86/86
- Intelligence: 28
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
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I ask my mother one morning where I got my name. At the time I am only a child, with eyes round as the moon, hair curled beneath ribbon knots. I am tucked between layers of bedding and sheets as she speaks, and gasp in wonder as she tells me that I share a name with an ancient, beauteous queen. In my naivete I imagine myself dappled with jewels, a tiara the hue of the stars glowing atop a mass of golden locks. Drowned in an ocean of dreams, I grin.
Push ten years out of the way and I'm almost all the same. I am a girl who rides horses bareback in the starlit night, who swallows cherry-pits and loves the feel of sun in her hair. I still feel queasy around meat and wear faux-leather boots that skim past the hollows of my knees. Only now I'm not swimming in fairytales but a rain of books; books that weave the tales of ancient Rome and Babylon, of Arabia and Persia. The words mesh into one another and I drink them like a vice, a flashlight in one hand as I dip beneath the covers as I had so long ago. I am no princess, I am not royalty. But sometimes, as I read and read and read, I imagine myself to be one, like Queen Elizabeth or Eleanor of Aquitane. And, at times, only in my dreams, I am the Queen of Sheba.
In my follies I am sleeping in silk lined with gold, eating cherries out of silvery plates. I live in a time of whimsical, pearl castles, with a garden not unlike paradise and creatures cloaked in roses and lilies. There are rams and sheep lush as palm-trees with sweet hibiscus curling around their horns, does and deer with rose-streaked faces. There are ponds at my jeweled toes and coral-hued fish dancing within.
And then I blink the slumber away from my dream-streaked eyes, the rocking horse on my bedside coming into view, the paper lives and fairytales stacked like castles on the carpet. I run rough hands through thick, gold-spun hair and smile, almost wistfully, as the sun begins to rise, lapping up the last of the starlight.
Profile & Art (c)mini
CLICK FOR ART ALBUM
-
I ask my mother one morning where I got my name. At the time I am only a child, with eyes round as the moon, hair curled beneath ribbon knots. I am tucked between layers of bedding and sheets as she speaks, and gasp in wonder as she tells me that I share a name with an ancient, beauteous queen. In my naivete I imagine myself dappled with jewels, a tiara the hue of the stars glowing atop a mass of golden locks. Drowned in an ocean of dreams, I grin.
Push ten years out of the way and I'm almost all the same. I am a girl who rides horses bareback in the starlit night, who swallows cherry-pits and loves the feel of sun in her hair. I still feel queasy around meat and wear faux-leather boots that skim past the hollows of my knees. Only now I'm not swimming in fairytales but a rain of books; books that weave the tales of ancient Rome and Babylon, of Arabia and Persia. The words mesh into one another and I drink them like a vice, a flashlight in one hand as I dip beneath the covers as I had so long ago. I am no princess, I am not royalty. But sometimes, as I read and read and read, I imagine myself to be one, like Queen Elizabeth or Eleanor of Aquitane. And, at times, only in my dreams, I am the Queen of Sheba.
In my follies I am sleeping in silk lined with gold, eating cherries out of silvery plates. I live in a time of whimsical, pearl castles, with a garden not unlike paradise and creatures cloaked in roses and lilies. There are rams and sheep lush as palm-trees with sweet hibiscus curling around their horns, does and deer with rose-streaked faces. There are ponds at my jeweled toes and coral-hued fish dancing within.
And then I blink the slumber away from my dream-streaked eyes, the rocking horse on my bedside coming into view, the paper lives and fairytales stacked like castles on the carpet. I run rough hands through thick, gold-spun hair and smile, almost wistfully, as the sun begins to rise, lapping up the last of the starlight.
Profile & Art (c)
mini
Pet Treasure
Cherry
Subeta History
English Textbook
The Misleading Tale
Tales of the Winter Lady
A Fairy Tale
Book of Bluegreen Fairy Tales
Book of Snow Fairy Tales
Book of Poetry
Greek Textbook
Hebrew Textbook
Rocking Horse
The Fairies
The Winter Grove
Paper Snowflakes: The Ultimate Guide