Information
~Ammy has a minion!
Minion the Eloa
Minion the Eloa
~Ammy
Legacy Name: ~Ammy
The
Angelic PopokoOwner: Fayren
Age: 17 years, 3 weeks, 1 day
Born: August 29th, 2009
Adopted: 17 years, 3 weeks, 1 day ago (Legacy)
Adopted: August 29th, 2009 (Legacy)
Statistics
- Level: 5
- Strength: 11
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 0/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Toys Played: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Ammy was alive once.
But it was a long time ago, and she doesn't remember it much.
Not at all, really.
When she tries...
No, in all actuality, she doesn't try.
She doesn't even remember enough to try to remember it.
She's been told what happened, about how she died in a landslide in a futile attempt to warn those below it. About how her body was disgraced, used in horrible magics by unruly spirits playing god in another world, revived, and how she lived for years, broken, her memories scattered between worlds and the afterlife, with magic forced into her body, breaking her down more and more from the inside out as it pushed itself out of the body that was not meant to contain it.
She's been told, but she doesn't remember.
She doesn't even remember her friends. They died in the same landslide, but their spirits were long ago reborn. Now they don't remember her either. Past memories are washed away before rebirth, once a spirit has come to terms with what happened in life.
Her life is like an old storybook; faint and far away. Ammy can no longer remember what it felt like to live. She can no longer come to terms with herself.
She was too fouled with magic. Even now it still clings to her spirit, even now it keeps her broken, keeps her from pulling herself together, driving her very essence into madness. A fragmented soul cannot come to terms with everything that happened in life, nor is it safe for one to be reborn.
There are few souls that remain in the afterlife, and even less are pleasant company, as they are all regretful or hateful of the state they were in before they passed on. Even if a pure soul happens across her, the madness will break them if they attempt to stay. They end up a part of her collection. She doesn't remember enough to feel guilty.
Even if by chance pleasant company visits, it is doubtful that Ammy will remember them once they leave her sight.Her broken mind and soul cause her no end of emotional pain. She lives alone, her broken mind trying desperately to piece together something solid. She finds comfort in things that are beautiful or tasty or fluffy or soft or cute, and so she collects them. Things that seem pure. Even though they soon become surrounded by her madness, she still keeps them, continuously searching for their former pure existence.
For more than anything, Ammy wants to be pure again. Pretty again. She wants the ugly madness to leave her. The sudden flashes of broken pieces of something, the visions. She wants it to leave, as much as anyone would want a lecherous thing to leave. She wants to be whole. She prays to god to let her escape from the horrors of herself, but no answer comes. She doesn't even know if she believes in a god anymore.
The madness has overtaken her. Her precious things are barely holding together. Even though at times she can appear sane, her being now consists of flashes of visions, delusions, forgetfulness, and madness. She is now hopeless and drowning in herself.
Ammy was alive once.
But now she barely even exists.
.:: ~*~ :: ~*~ ::.
"Hello, there." You say, bending over so that your head was on the same level as the spirit that was curled up, watching flowers wave in the wind, her fluffy tail wrapped around and under her chin.
She looks up, and as your eyes meet, you see that hers are full of stars and clouds. She blinks, clearing them. You blink too, as the images seem infecting. You try to remember how you got here. Unable.
"Oh..." She says, slowly, "Hello. Have you come to visit me?"
Her face is simple and angelic, and you find yourself answering "Yes, of course." Forgetting to think. Forgetting.
She stands up and brushes off her dress, eyes already filling back up with stars. "Well in that case..."
She fingers a smooth stone, looking down at is as if seeing it for the first time. She looks back up, distant.
"I'll get some tea, shall I?"
You find yourself in a room.
A curious room. A mad room. Full of things. Some areas sparkling, clean. Others full of broken pieces, as if a miniature tornado had passed.
You stare.
She doesn't notice.
You try to remember to how you got here. You can't.
She moves across the room as if in a dream, half asleep and half dancing. A hypnotic, captivating dance, swirling and flitting, moving in a pattern you feel you should know.
You find yourself forgetting, feeling your head start to droop. Black starts to swirl on the edges of your vision.
"Chamomile or Peppermint?"
Your head snaps up.
You blink, head spinning as you try to remember when you moved outside. When you sat down. When you picked up the truffle you now hold in your hand.
You set the truffle down.
"Chamomile or Peppermint?" she repeats again, staring at you curiously. You notice the stars are gone.
You stare back.
"Chamomile it is, then." She turns, and you find yourself wondering what colour her dress was when you first met her. Surely it wasn't black?
You find yourself wondering when you met her. You can't seem to plac-
Suddenly everything glitches. Your world is filled with static, a strange, intense aura filling your mouth, your nose, your essence. You see her eyes, glowing as she turns...
"Who are you?" The voice resonates through you, etching itself into your head, the words searing themselves white hot into your vision. Surely it wasn't hers...?
"Who are you? Why did you come? How did you get here? What is your name? What is your home? Why are you here?" Questions repeatedly enter your head, overlapping, becoming more urgent, filling you with searing pain.
Your world turns black... And shatters...
You find yourself looking up as if from the floor, your vision shattered like a mirror, each piece showing the same scene.
"Oh... They broke..." She says simply, puzzled now that the darkness was gone. White light once again filtering across her pretty, confused, features.
Her eyes filled with stars once more and she bent down, her face closing in. A hand reached down and picked a piece of your vision up.
She smiles, beautifully. She once more appears as an angel, golden and dressed in white. You relax, letting her radiance wash over you as you disappear...
But it was a long time ago, and she doesn't remember it much.
Not at all, really.
When she tries...
No, in all actuality, she doesn't try.
She doesn't even remember enough to try to remember it.
She's been told what happened, about how she died in a landslide in a futile attempt to warn those below it. About how her body was disgraced, used in horrible magics by unruly spirits playing god in another world, revived, and how she lived for years, broken, her memories scattered between worlds and the afterlife, with magic forced into her body, breaking her down more and more from the inside out as it pushed itself out of the body that was not meant to contain it.
She's been told, but she doesn't remember.
She doesn't even remember her friends. They died in the same landslide, but their spirits were long ago reborn. Now they don't remember her either. Past memories are washed away before rebirth, once a spirit has come to terms with what happened in life.
Her life is like an old storybook; faint and far away. Ammy can no longer remember what it felt like to live. She can no longer come to terms with herself.
She was too fouled with magic. Even now it still clings to her spirit, even now it keeps her broken, keeps her from pulling herself together, driving her very essence into madness. A fragmented soul cannot come to terms with everything that happened in life, nor is it safe for one to be reborn.
There are few souls that remain in the afterlife, and even less are pleasant company, as they are all regretful or hateful of the state they were in before they passed on. Even if a pure soul happens across her, the madness will break them if they attempt to stay. They end up a part of her collection. She doesn't remember enough to feel guilty.
Even if by chance pleasant company visits, it is doubtful that Ammy will remember them once they leave her sight.Her broken mind and soul cause her no end of emotional pain. She lives alone, her broken mind trying desperately to piece together something solid. She finds comfort in things that are beautiful or tasty or fluffy or soft or cute, and so she collects them. Things that seem pure. Even though they soon become surrounded by her madness, she still keeps them, continuously searching for their former pure existence.
For more than anything, Ammy wants to be pure again. Pretty again. She wants the ugly madness to leave her. The sudden flashes of broken pieces of something, the visions. She wants it to leave, as much as anyone would want a lecherous thing to leave. She wants to be whole. She prays to god to let her escape from the horrors of herself, but no answer comes. She doesn't even know if she believes in a god anymore.
The madness has overtaken her. Her precious things are barely holding together. Even though at times she can appear sane, her being now consists of flashes of visions, delusions, forgetfulness, and madness. She is now hopeless and drowning in herself.
Ammy was alive once.
But now she barely even exists.
.:: ~*~ :: ~*~ ::.
"Hello, there." You say, bending over so that your head was on the same level as the spirit that was curled up, watching flowers wave in the wind, her fluffy tail wrapped around and under her chin.
She looks up, and as your eyes meet, you see that hers are full of stars and clouds. She blinks, clearing them. You blink too, as the images seem infecting. You try to remember how you got here. Unable.
"Oh..." She says, slowly, "Hello. Have you come to visit me?"
Her face is simple and angelic, and you find yourself answering "Yes, of course." Forgetting to think. Forgetting.
She stands up and brushes off her dress, eyes already filling back up with stars. "Well in that case..."
She fingers a smooth stone, looking down at is as if seeing it for the first time. She looks back up, distant.
"I'll get some tea, shall I?"
You find yourself in a room.
A curious room. A mad room. Full of things. Some areas sparkling, clean. Others full of broken pieces, as if a miniature tornado had passed.
You stare.
She doesn't notice.
You try to remember to how you got here. You can't.
She moves across the room as if in a dream, half asleep and half dancing. A hypnotic, captivating dance, swirling and flitting, moving in a pattern you feel you should know.
You find yourself forgetting, feeling your head start to droop. Black starts to swirl on the edges of your vision.
"Chamomile or Peppermint?"
Your head snaps up.
You blink, head spinning as you try to remember when you moved outside. When you sat down. When you picked up the truffle you now hold in your hand.
You set the truffle down.
"Chamomile or Peppermint?" she repeats again, staring at you curiously. You notice the stars are gone.
You stare back.
"Chamomile it is, then." She turns, and you find yourself wondering what colour her dress was when you first met her. Surely it wasn't black?
You find yourself wondering when you met her. You can't seem to plac-
Suddenly everything glitches. Your world is filled with static, a strange, intense aura filling your mouth, your nose, your essence. You see her eyes, glowing as she turns...
"Who are you?" The voice resonates through you, etching itself into your head, the words searing themselves white hot into your vision. Surely it wasn't hers...?
"Who are you? Why did you come? How did you get here? What is your name? What is your home? Why are you here?" Questions repeatedly enter your head, overlapping, becoming more urgent, filling you with searing pain.
Your world turns black... And shatters...
You find yourself looking up as if from the floor, your vision shattered like a mirror, each piece showing the same scene.
"Oh... They broke..." She says simply, puzzled now that the darkness was gone. White light once again filtering across her pretty, confused, features.
Her eyes filled with stars once more and she bent down, her face closing in. A hand reached down and picked a piece of your vision up.
She smiles, beautifully. She once more appears as an angel, golden and dressed in white. You relax, letting her radiance wash over you as you disappear...
Pet Treasure
Coalti
Naphal
Ghost Gems
Blue Begonia
Blue Lotus
Frozen Matter
Glacier Kanis Plushie
Frozen Rose Key
Snowy Wreath
White Survival Note Rose
White Marshmallow Wings
Swirled Pink Flower
Coral Dahlia
Strawberry Tart
Candied Rose Petal
Poison Laced Tea Cloth
Lavender Split Bellflower
Lavender Dahlia
Living Permafrost
Fancy Brownie
Bag of Pure Flour
Chocolate Apple Slices
Fancy Sugar Cookie
Chocolate Orange Slices
Screwdriver
Woowoo
Fancy Shmancy Cheesecake
Chocolate Grapefruit Slices
Strawberry Trifle
Mini Fancy Cupcake
Nightmarish Cloud