Information


Kritika has a minion!

Ghost the Joyouslee




Kritika
Legacy Name: Kritika


The Reborn Popoko
Owner: Foxtrot

Age: 6 years, 7 months, 3 weeks

Born: September 1st, 2017

Adopted: 6 years, 7 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: September 1st, 2017


Pet Spotlight Winner
May 27th, 2020

Statistics


  • Level: 79
     
  • Strength: 193
     
  • Defense: 170
     
  • Speed: 159
     
  • Health: 167
     
  • HP: 167/167
     
  • Intelligence: 41
     
  • Books Read: 34
  • Food Eaten: 2
  • Job: Private Shopper


Do you want to walk with me?
Over scorched hills.
Over bare earth.
Do you want to breathe with me?
Gases that kill.
Toxins that hurt.
Come now child, decay with me.
'Till bones lie still.
Ashes to dirt.
I beg you my child...
just stay with me.

Her sad moan shriveled quickly in the hot dry air and her feet stamped anxiously into the hardened earth. The toxic cocktail of deadly gases broiling from her stocky frame responded swiftly in the methane-laden breeze. Pacing and scanning the horizon did nothing to lessen the ache of her tormented memories and with a mighty kick she leapt forth, running endlessly toward an invisible destination, distraught and alone. A heartbroken cry echoed in the empty air, its anguish dying softly in the barren soil. No call was returned. None ever were... the beast galloped tirelessly, it's me, my children, it's me, it's me...

A small rift severed the dark gray clouds. The creature's head twisted upward while acrid tears fell to the ground, sizzling into wisps of smoke. Her eyes fixated on a small red dot between the smog; the helplessness of motherhood weighing down on her soul. Please remember. Please come back home. It's me, my children, it's me, it's me...

Far above, light years away, among the acres of flickering lights and distinctive hums of civilization sat a man. He was a fat man; bloated by years of self-neglect and inactivity. His mind was easily distracted by quirky sounds and flashing screens, and his chubby fingers were greasy from shoveling snacks into his gob. He glanced briefly at a dot on the adjacent monitor, letting out a sigh. One sector of Earth was finally ready for radiation cleanup, the first step to moving back home.

The mere thought of returning to that barren wasteland was exhaustive for such a man. Weakened by years of robotic pampering, he unwillingly ripped his attention away from the game in front of him and fumbled his hand behind the desk. The plug fell to the dusty floor with a small thud: its final resting place.

Credits

xXx by me

xXx by Aychemex on DA


xXx by VectorStock



xXx by Pinterest


xXx by Sarah Morris


Profile by Paula │ Story & Poem by Foxtrot

Pet Treasure


Trash Can

Fester Poison

Tooth Decay Pellets

Krampus Kilt Scrap

Scrap of Baboon Fur

Dead Leather

Pulled Gold Teeth

Old Compass

Moldy Mug

Pile of Ashes

Broken Arid Light Bulb

Woodcutters Broken Comb

Broken Bottle

Shadow Dust

Burnt Leaf Litter

Magnetic Stones

Bones

Coal

Pet Friends