Information

Nette has a minion!

him the Floraffe

Nette
Legacy Name: Nette

The Glade Darkonite

Age: 16 years, 8 months, 3 weeks

Born: September 18th, 2009

Adopted: 12 years, 4 weeks, 1 day ago

Adopted: May 12th, 2014

Statistics

• Level: 5
   
• Strength: 13
   
• Defense: 11
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 11
   
• HP: 13/11
   
• Intelligence: 0
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

Grenades are created, not born.

She looks at him with lightning eyes, shoulders slumped, shaking hands. She wraps her arms around her body as if she means to fold up into herself. He is just a boy, but he is the kind of boy that butterflies would land on and when he met her mother the tips of his ears turned red. He is the sea on a calm day and he is a ferocious hurricane. He is just a boy, but he taps his foot on beat when he listens to her favorite song.

They are broken messes of people. They are blemishes, mutations, but they fit together like two puzzle pieces and his name rolls off her tongue like it is made to be said by her.

But grenades are created, not born. He grew up with the salty taste of tears in the back of his throat and she grew up surrounded by dead eyes. His daddy was a professional grenade maker, and he taught his son a thing or two. Maybe at first, he didn’t want to learn, but the endless procession of bruises soon convinced him. History repeats itself.

She held her fragile, beating heart within two hands, but she forgot her discretion when she saw the delicate way he handled her mother, like a pretty little flower to be treasured. She was a timid girl, but she found comfort in the hollow space of his ribs.

They are drawn to each other like two destructive forces seeking the other out.

She is quiet and he is loud; she is hard lines and stiff posture while he is languidly relaxing in his chair. She thinks that he is too good for her but he is thinking about the hairpin curve of her lips.

They are pulled towards each other like planets revolving around the sun. They are afraid but they are also young and invincible and beautiful. He shows up at her house one day at six in the morning, ignores her half-hearted grumbles and drives her to a forest where they sit in a tiny little meadow while he recites poetry and she looks at him and thinks that he is art. For some reason, the words I love you seem to tumble out of his mouth and when she doesn’t immediately reply, the apologies begin spilling out like his words should’ve come with a receipt; he tells her he didn’t mean it when he really did but he will do anything so that she stops looking at him like he is a mistake.

Maybe they are accidents in this perfect life, and maybe grenades are created, not born, and maybe he’s an expert in making them, but when his babble fades away and she stares at him with a tiny smile, he thinks, she thinks—

Maybe this is what I've been waiting for.

Pet Treasure

Dark Bomb

Arid Flower

Lava Arma Scroll

Peka Glade Mask

Pet Friends