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Description

You may not steal, share, redistribute, or trace my art without my permission! Do not risk the consequences, please.
______

WOAH LOOK WHO IT IS, IT'S ME, AND IM POSTING???

WH A T?
and it's wyngro wow
( I honestly hate my writing ugh )

Warning: Death !!!
______

  The atmosphere was heavy, drab clouds hurried past the anguished cries of Wynsiph below. The town almost completely desolate, a majority withered, lying on a deathbed, as the sick were dropping like flies. Thunder had streaked it's long fingers across the bleeding sky. After the events with the monstrous Deelagun, it wouldn't be difficult to assume the town's alarm. Lime had come down with a fever a few days ago, only for it to gradually enhance.
Her strength was poor, embroiled in a mess of tissues and blankets. Her face in a pillow, Lime awoke panicked from an intense, disturbing fever dream. She felt her head, a strong sense of chills locking her in her bed. Gazing up at the plaster to take in the comforting sense of reality, she sighed and untied herself from the covers and pulled a blanket aloft her shoulders.

  As far as Lime knew, the nova tree had been lost and she'd been masked in her own home after the Deelagun snaked it's way into town, never to leave for fresh groceries or any other supplies--which pretty much kept her locked in her own cell.
  She stumbled into the small kitchen she could afford, pouring herself a wooden glass of her favorite tea with such an overwhelming dizziness. Struggling, she settled herself in an arm chair, she gave a few hacks into her left arm and flicked on a lamp. Her eyes darted to the window masked with dusty brown curtains tied up neatly with cream ribbons; an array of potted plants crowded at the glass almost weepy from the lack of water. For a second she had scrambled thoughts, and stumbled to stand herself up to peer outside the glass aperture.

  She recalled the soldiers armed with whimsical armor and tools, giving their every life into protecting the weak and better yet their home. They battled contrary to a colossal monstrosity to preserve what was most important to them. Her antenna quivered, lost in thought she considered sewing for a little bit in inspiration of those who might've lost their lives to the condescending beast--that is until her eyes caught at the rolled up paper waiting by her porch.

  Overcome my curiosity, the wonder swallowed her whole as she scrambled to unlock the door to fetch it. It was caressed by a charcoal ribbon, fixing it off she took it inside to read over the concern. Her eyes went stiff after reading the headline that stood alone: 'Wynsiph under attack: many lost to disease'. With astounding fret, she skimmed over the first bit of text, which depicted the great disease that dispersed so quickly. She felt fear pooling inside of her, her deep apricot oculus' briefly hovered about the drab of the town, or what still remained.

  Her paws were stiff and feeble, the only thing she could comprehend was to panic. The reflection of behemoths infecting the woods, their long skeletal appearance and menacing smiles, deriving joy from the pain and desperate screams of helpless wyngro, whenever they took away lives. She could feel their long salient fingers crawling on her skin, suddenly overcome by a groveling darkness absorbing her.

winded, she crawled to her knees. Whispering broke out in her ears, cackles dispersed from the crowd that closed in. She couldn't find herself to scream, scrambling to run, but the condition of her health kept her in shackles. She shut her eyes tight and went still, her ears straining to the sound of faint murmurs. She couldn't escape the grave pain that corrupted her body, holding her legs in her arms she listened to her heart beat running. She didn't want to die, she couldn't leave just yet. She poised herself in her thoughts, like two hushed voices bickering at each other, then more joined in and eventually she was running along thin ice.
  She had so many things to accomplish before her, even if she didn't have a future, even if she didn't have any friends, even if she didn't have comfort. She peered into her reflection, feeling her eyes as if she didn't believe she was still there, a spirit disorientated from the other world. Her glands started to pool, her eyes brimming with melanoid tears. Soon her optics were soulless and black as tar pits. She observed with her ebony discs, the waterfall of substance enveloping the ice like long slate tendrils she stood upon, and so it began to break.
   Lime perched herself where the cracks gathered at her claws. She remembered this. She remembered her heart breached in several places before, alone to withstand her impending doom, alone. Her most admired, a ghost. She felt sick, and mournful, and...numb. She felt cold, and numb. Her senses astray, she dipped her head to glance at her broken reflection once more. The cracks froze, and she sat perched on her knees. It'll be okay. "If I die, it'll be okay. No one has to know." She spoke, her voice rasped. "It'll be okay, and no one will remember. I'll be adrift, accompanied with them. And I'll be happy."

  She curled her tail over her claws, and breathed, and she was untangled from the worry, her jaws seeping with blood as bleak as coal. And she wasn't shocked when it started to spurt, violent hacking followed. She gasped, awakening to her paws over her neck and under the density of the forest. Her tassel sweeping the lush beneath her as she took to her talons, feeling as if she were dancing on air.

  She would tread forward, in constant combat with the illness that ate away and lapped up her soul. Lime found herself in a familiar hallow with crickets humming and flowers budding, peering around as her glands oozed and gushed. She sputtered, collapsing at the roots of a great oak tree, the wind buzzing a soft song in her ears.
   Her antenna pinned to her head, she lay awake in a forgotten meadow. The crickets chirping, and the atmosphere heavy on her chest she breathed once more before she slept.

This time the seams that were mangled would finally recoil with the sweet release of impending cessation.
______
4/287

+ Plague death
-Symptoms (here)
-Dying
-1000 words

( she's supposed to be painfully monotone )
( that's why she doesn't look like she's in that much pain )
______

Description

You may not steal, share, redistribute, or trace my art without my permission! Do not risk the consequences, please.
______

WOAH LOOK WHO IT IS, IT'S ME, AND IM POSTING???

WH A T?
and it's wyngro wow
( I honestly hate my writing ugh )

Warning: Death !!!
______

  The atmosphere was heavy, drab clouds hurried past the anguished cries of Wynsiph below. The town almost completely desolate, a majority withered, lying on a deathbed, as the sick were dropping like flies. Thunder had streaked it's long fingers across the bleeding sky. After the events with the monstrous Deelagun, it wouldn't be difficult to assume the town's alarm. Lime had come down with a fever a few days ago, only for it to gradually enhance.
Her strength was poor, embroiled in a mess of tissues and blankets. Her face in a pillow, Lime awoke panicked from an intense, disturbing fever dream. She felt her head, a strong sense of chills locking her in her bed. Gazing up at the plaster to take in the comforting sense of reality, she sighed and untied herself from the covers and pulled a blanket aloft her shoulders.

  As far as Lime knew, the nova tree had been lost and she'd been masked in her own home after the Deelagun snaked it's way into town, never to leave for fresh groceries or any other supplies--which pretty much kept her locked in her own cell.
  She stumbled into the small kitchen she could afford, pouring herself a wooden glass of her favorite tea with such an overwhelming dizziness. Struggling, she settled herself in an arm chair, she gave a few hacks into her left arm and flicked on a lamp. Her eyes darted to the window masked with dusty brown curtains tied up neatly with cream ribbons; an array of potted plants crowded at the glass almost weepy from the lack of water. For a second she had scrambled thoughts, and stumbled to stand herself up to peer outside the glass aperture.

  She recalled the soldiers armed with whimsical armor and tools, giving their every life into protecting the weak and better yet their home. They battled contrary to a colossal monstrosity to preserve what was most important to them. Her antenna quivered, lost in thought she considered sewing for a little bit in inspiration of those who might've lost their lives to the condescending beast--that is until her eyes caught at the rolled up paper waiting by her porch.

  Overcome my curiosity, the wonder swallowed her whole as she scrambled to unlock the door to fetch it. It was caressed by a charcoal ribbon, fixing it off she took it inside to read over the concern. Her eyes went stiff after reading the headline that stood alone: 'Wynsiph under attack: many lost to disease'. With astounding fret, she skimmed over the first bit of text, which depicted the great disease that dispersed so quickly. She felt fear pooling inside of her, her deep apricot oculus' briefly hovered about the drab of the town, or what still remained.

  Her paws were stiff and feeble, the only thing she could comprehend was to panic. The reflection of behemoths infecting the woods, their long skeletal appearance and menacing smiles, deriving joy from the pain and desperate screams of helpless wyngro, whenever they took away lives. She could feel their long salient fingers crawling on her skin, suddenly overcome by a groveling darkness absorbing her.

winded, she crawled to her knees. Whispering broke out in her ears, cackles dispersed from the crowd that closed in. She couldn't find herself to scream, scrambling to run, but the condition of her health kept her in shackles. She shut her eyes tight and went still, her ears straining to the sound of faint murmurs. She couldn't escape the grave pain that corrupted her body, holding her legs in her arms she listened to her heart beat running. She didn't want to die, she couldn't leave just yet. She poised herself in her thoughts, like two hushed voices bickering at each other, then more joined in and eventually she was running along thin ice.
  She had so many things to accomplish before her, even if she didn't have a future, even if she didn't have any friends, even if she didn't have comfort. She peered into her reflection, feeling her eyes as if she didn't believe she was still there, a spirit disorientated from the other world. Her glands started to pool, her eyes brimming with melanoid tears. Soon her optics were soulless and black as tar pits. She observed with her ebony discs, the waterfall of substance enveloping the ice like long slate tendrils she stood upon, and so it began to break.
   Lime perched herself where the cracks gathered at her claws. She remembered this. She remembered her heart breached in several places before, alone to withstand her impending doom, alone. Her most admired, a ghost. She felt sick, and mournful, and...numb. She felt cold, and numb. Her senses astray, she dipped her head to glance at her broken reflection once more. The cracks froze, and she sat perched on her knees. It'll be okay. "If I die, it'll be okay. No one has to know." She spoke, her voice rasped. "It'll be okay, and no one will remember. I'll be adrift, accompanied with them. And I'll be happy."

  She curled her tail over her claws, and breathed, and she was untangled from the worry, her jaws seeping with blood as bleak as coal. And she wasn't shocked when it started to spurt, violent hacking followed. She gasped, awakening to her paws over her neck and under the density of the forest. Her tassel sweeping the lush beneath her as she took to her talons, feeling as if she were dancing on air.

  She would tread forward, in constant combat with the illness that ate away and lapped up her soul. Lime found herself in a familiar hallow with crickets humming and flowers budding, peering around as her glands oozed and gushed. She sputtered, collapsing at the roots of a great oak tree, the wind buzzing a soft song in her ears.
   Her antenna pinned to her head, she lay awake in a forgotten meadow. The crickets chirping, and the atmosphere heavy on her chest she breathed once more before she slept.

This time the seams that were mangled would finally recoil with the sweet release of impending cessation.
______
4/287

+ Plague death
-Symptoms (here)
-Dying
-1000 words

( she's supposed to be painfully monotone )
( that's why she doesn't look like she's in that much pain )
______