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Description
Gift for and

I can't get Sleet's colors right X"D Sorry, Witty! I'll get them better next time, I just lack the right colors to get the right shades

Truth... Conviction... Perspicacity... Do they desire what has unfolded, what could unfold, and what will transpire in the future? Or do they yearn for the erroneous sensation of security that permeates the social atmosphere?

Why do people avoid the truth? Why do they face such difficulty when confronting the truth, and long to slumber in a false sense of security? Perhaps facing the truth incites unimaginable apprehension and trepidation of possible happenstance or inescapable circumstance. On the contrary, some individuals may desire to avoid being burdened by a weight and presence of responsibility to solve the onerous tasks of changing the world for the collective benefit.

The moment you succumb to fear and attempt to justify ignorance of responsibility and awareness is the moment you let the world down. You let yourself down.

Awake with teeth clanging together like a thousand smiths hammering against searing metal, Farran rose up and entered the living room of his adoptive mother's home. Despite the season of summer, the nights were chilling for some unpredicted and unknown cause. What caught his perceptive attention was the pale pink egg with plum hues, pastel yellow bands and red polka dots highlighting the shell that occasionally shook and heated. When the silver-hearted Wyngro gently palmed the shell, he retracted his webbed claw in freezing sensation.

Farran lifted the egg from the soft cradle and set himself on the floor. The egg of his sibling, the sole blood family he has so far as he knows, was cradled between his crossed legs. As Farran inhaled in disqueitude, his magic glands had begun to hum and glow a soft red hue. The egg had commenced in embracing the warmth from its protector. Farran felt a subtle shake, a soft kick hit him against his stomach from the Wyngling inside. He accepted the experience as a gesture of pure gratitude, smiling in the knowledge that the egg was still alive.

"You're up early." Said a dark blue figure, cloaked in the shadows of the adjacent corridor. The floorboards creaked in simultaneous conjunction with the pounding of Farran's silver heart. As he cradled the egg, the wyngling inside seemed to nuzzle against the shell where Farran had placed his snout. He begged for help...

Sleet had sat down besides Farran. "You're one to criticize, Sleet..." riposted Farran, shielding the egg against the cold. The quad flicked an eyebrow upwards as he gazed upon the fidgeting and shaking egg.

"Was it cold...?" asked Sleet with a tone of unnerving dismay, concerned for the well-being of the egg.

"She." A voice entered the conversation abruptly, tearing through the social membrane like an axe through fresh lumber from the forest. A tan biped sat with his legs crossed right besides Farran. "Farran thinks it's a girl."

Farran rolled his eyes as his heavy head leaned towards Jesse. "Is privacy a little much to ask?" The sarcastic remark received no reply other than a reassuring smirk.

His head was stirring as needles proded at his heart and soul. Farran felt choked, soon he found himself incapable of speech or respiration. He felt the urge to hyperventilate as he had begun to exhaust his magic. He was taken by the terror that his heart pounding would be resonant.

"Please allow me to elucidate something..." said Farran. He leaned back, and revealed what he had hidden for so long. "Forgive me..."

"Farran... What happened?" asked Jesse in an interrogative tone. The grey Wyngro gazed at his brothers' solicitious eyes as he revealed three scars, an obvious indication that he was struck by a large claw, one that tore a hole through Farran's very flesh. All their hearts dropped simultaneously.

Sleet shook his head, exhaling not in relief, but in troublesome responsibility. "Oh my Chii', Farran..."

"When I ran away... A monster had attacked in the night... Black and emotionless like a sky stripped of the stars and moon..." Farran had begun to explain. He hid the scars under his fur this entire time. "Complete perpetuity and hegemony over fate and death of its victims, whereas it can't control its own. Flashing metal torn and erect from the skin, blazing eyes with fires comparable only to the innermost depths of torturous hell... Khaleesi and I were able to stave it off, but..."

The agonizing and choked-up expressions of Jesse and Sleet juxtaposed against the nonchalant face of Farran as his glands hummed and flared with bright red incandescence, delicately heating the peach egg in his lap. Jesse almost sprung up to fetch water in fear that his poor brother would ignite in flames caused by recollection of the traumatic experience. "You have to tell Mom..." He dared to utter.

Upgrades:
Ram Horns
Proof of Age: wolfarcher456.deviantart.com/a…
Requirement: wolfarcher456.deviantart.com/a…

Scars
Proof of Age: wolfarcher456.deviantart.com/a…

+2 Full Body
+3 Full Body Gift
+3 Full Body Gift
+3 Weekly Prompt
+1 Story (781 Words)

12/168

Farran and Art (c)

Sleet (c)

Jesse (c)

Description
Gift for and

I can't get Sleet's colors right X"D Sorry, Witty! I'll get them better next time, I just lack the right colors to get the right shades

Truth... Conviction... Perspicacity... Do they desire what has unfolded, what could unfold, and what will transpire in the future? Or do they yearn for the erroneous sensation of security that permeates the social atmosphere?

Why do people avoid the truth? Why do they face such difficulty when confronting the truth, and long to slumber in a false sense of security? Perhaps facing the truth incites unimaginable apprehension and trepidation of possible happenstance or inescapable circumstance. On the contrary, some individuals may desire to avoid being burdened by a weight and presence of responsibility to solve the onerous tasks of changing the world for the collective benefit.

The moment you succumb to fear and attempt to justify ignorance of responsibility and awareness is the moment you let the world down. You let yourself down.

Awake with teeth clanging together like a thousand smiths hammering against searing metal, Farran rose up and entered the living room of his adoptive mother's home. Despite the season of summer, the nights were chilling for some unpredicted and unknown cause. What caught his perceptive attention was the pale pink egg with plum hues, pastel yellow bands and red polka dots highlighting the shell that occasionally shook and heated. When the silver-hearted Wyngro gently palmed the shell, he retracted his webbed claw in freezing sensation.

Farran lifted the egg from the soft cradle and set himself on the floor. The egg of his sibling, the sole blood family he has so far as he knows, was cradled between his crossed legs. As Farran inhaled in disqueitude, his magic glands had begun to hum and glow a soft red hue. The egg had commenced in embracing the warmth from its protector. Farran felt a subtle shake, a soft kick hit him against his stomach from the Wyngling inside. He accepted the experience as a gesture of pure gratitude, smiling in the knowledge that the egg was still alive.

"You're up early." Said a dark blue figure, cloaked in the shadows of the adjacent corridor. The floorboards creaked in simultaneous conjunction with the pounding of Farran's silver heart. As he cradled the egg, the wyngling inside seemed to nuzzle against the shell where Farran had placed his snout. He begged for help...

Sleet had sat down besides Farran. "You're one to criticize, Sleet..." riposted Farran, shielding the egg against the cold. The quad flicked an eyebrow upwards as he gazed upon the fidgeting and shaking egg.

"Was it cold...?" asked Sleet with a tone of unnerving dismay, concerned for the well-being of the egg.

"She." A voice entered the conversation abruptly, tearing through the social membrane like an axe through fresh lumber from the forest. A tan biped sat with his legs crossed right besides Farran. "Farran thinks it's a girl."

Farran rolled his eyes as his heavy head leaned towards Jesse. "Is privacy a little much to ask?" The sarcastic remark received no reply other than a reassuring smirk.

His head was stirring as needles proded at his heart and soul. Farran felt choked, soon he found himself incapable of speech or respiration. He felt the urge to hyperventilate as he had begun to exhaust his magic. He was taken by the terror that his heart pounding would be resonant.

"Please allow me to elucidate something..." said Farran. He leaned back, and revealed what he had hidden for so long. "Forgive me..."

"Farran... What happened?" asked Jesse in an interrogative tone. The grey Wyngro gazed at his brothers' solicitious eyes as he revealed three scars, an obvious indication that he was struck by a large claw, one that tore a hole through Farran's very flesh. All their hearts dropped simultaneously.

Sleet shook his head, exhaling not in relief, but in troublesome responsibility. "Oh my Chii', Farran..."

"When I ran away... A monster had attacked in the night... Black and emotionless like a sky stripped of the stars and moon..." Farran had begun to explain. He hid the scars under his fur this entire time. "Complete perpetuity and hegemony over fate and death of its victims, whereas it can't control its own. Flashing metal torn and erect from the skin, blazing eyes with fires comparable only to the innermost depths of torturous hell... Khaleesi and I were able to stave it off, but..."

The agonizing and choked-up expressions of Jesse and Sleet juxtaposed against the nonchalant face of Farran as his glands hummed and flared with bright red incandescence, delicately heating the peach egg in his lap. Jesse almost sprung up to fetch water in fear that his poor brother would ignite in flames caused by recollection of the traumatic experience. "You have to tell Mom..." He dared to utter.

Upgrades:
Ram Horns
Proof of Age: wolfarcher456.deviantart.com/a…
Requirement: wolfarcher456.deviantart.com/a…

Scars
Proof of Age: wolfarcher456.deviantart.com/a…

+2 Full Body
+3 Full Body Gift
+3 Full Body Gift
+3 Weekly Prompt
+1 Story (781 Words)

12/168

Farran and Art (c)

Sleet (c)

Jesse (c)