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PRP now, we only own our hells

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By faith we are led
Elysium (High Priestess)
Statistics
Species
Arctic Wolf

Sex
Female (She/Her)

Age
7 years (12-21-2018)

Height
Short

Weight
Light

Build
Stocky

Eyes
Warm gold

Fur
Silver & white

Scent
Crisp, cold wind with a hint of pine needles

Oddities
Sports a very long, thick ruff about her neck and small tufts of fur behind her ankles.

Writer

Posts

Threads

Genuine • Positive • Stubborn • Loyal • Gullible • Passionate
#3
 
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Skill: Herbalist

It was difficult to say what she was looking for.

As Valeska rummaged through the vast and meticulously kept expanse of her sister's garden, she could have cursed her own incompetence. She'd never paid much attention to their mother's teachings as a child, content merely to frolic and play in the snow, and unfortunately not even past her third month Annika and her half-sister Harper had been sent away.

It was a miracle she and Harper had ever managed to reunite in the end, grown up and worlds apart in both experience and history - their stories had branched away from each other, but now it had been five - or six? - years since, and the two had managed to bond again as if nothing had ever gotten in the way of them to begin with.

All of that to say: she still had no idea what she was trying to find.

Her stomach hurt. There was definitely an herb for it, and it was definitely in Harper's garden, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what the hells it was or even looked like.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. She was just about ready to give up and try to sleep the damn thing off when an unfamiliar howl sounded from a ways off - a visitor, perhaps? The distraction might help as much as anything else. Valeska picked herself up and trotted off in the direction of the summons, trying to keep her grumbling to a minimum as her stomach cramped.

A pretty silver woman and her dark companion came into view as she approached. Definitely strangers, but they didn't seem to have wrathful intent - not that many who came to Elysium's borders ever did. They were pacifists and not particularly keen on making enemies.

Hello, she greeted, her voice rich and heavily accented. Valeska was still most comfortable speaking her native Russian, but she'd slowly managed to grasp a competent level of fluency in the common tongue over the spanning years. Her expression, ever open and always sincere, beamed the pair a welcoming smile.

I am Valeska, High Priestess of Elysium. Do you seek shelter?

At least they hadn't arrived by falling into the damn lake.
[Image: ValeskaSig.gif]
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Messages In This Thread
now, we only own our hells - by Faeline - 3/16/2025, 7:02 PM
RE: now, we only own our hells - by Rhydian - 3/20/2025, 12:19 AM
RE: now, we only own our hells - by Valeska - 4/8/2025, 4:05 AM
RE: now, we only own our hells - by Rhydian - 6/14/2025, 2:19 PM

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