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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Summoned to Another World Not as the hero

The world of Aethelgard did not welcome Kaelen and Elias with open arms; it tore them apart with the cold, calculated precision of a guillotine. One moment, they were college seniors arguing over a philosophy paper in a rain-slicked alleyway in Seattle. The next, a blinding, violet rupture in the fabric of reality consumed them. When they awoke, the air smelled of ozone and ancient stone. They stood in the center of a cathedral-like chamber, surrounded by robed figures whose faces were hidden behind masks of hammered silver. "The prophecy demands a Champion of Light," one of the figures intoned, his voice echoing with an unnatural resonance. They pointed a trembling finger at Kaelen. "You, the vessel of potential, shall be taken to the Spire of Aeons. You will be forged into the blade that severs the darkness." Before Elias could protest—before he could even reach for his friend’s jacket—a shimmering barrier slammed down between them. Kaelen was swept away by the robed acolytes, his

Literature

The Mix of Iron and Blood: Chapter Seven

A Cloudless Tempest Previous Chapter The sea had finally stopped trying to kill them. For three days aboard Oribel's Luck, nearly every member of the party had been convinced that the vessel's true purpose was not to get them to their destination but to endlessly torture. The deck rolled beneath their feet with wild unpredictability. Hammocks swung like pendulums designed by demons. Every meal seemed determined to return to the world through the same path it had been ingested. Now, nearly two weeks south of Oyahal, the voyage had settled into something approaching routine. The morning sun painted the western sea in brilliant gold as Oribel's Luck rode gentle swells along the coastline. To starboard, the mainland stretched endlessly southward, a ribbon of green forest broken occasionally by beaches of white sand or rocky cliffs that dropped into the surf. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries carrying across the water on the warm breeze. Elkog stood at the bow, breathing

Literature

NIGHTSHADE EYES

Shadows land Blinding light Death's disguise Soulless minds Lifeless eyes Dead inside Hidden away Silent cry Lost in prayer Preyed upon A victimless crime Hiding inside Where the the monsters come out to play Reasoning Beyond a reasonable doubt Nothing to see Invisible to the light Mirror, mirror on the wall Why do my eyes bleed Captive in your grandeur of delusion A myriad of eyes Faceless in the night gone in an instant The mind's eye In the flicker of a flame Shot down Numbers fall in reverse Lost in paradise A paradox Dead man's fall The waking dream DMT Stolen Coming down Dark Angel The underworld Quicksilver Liquid skies Gone in the blink of an eye Mercury rising Eternal flame Grace Eternity Dying to survive To have your say Grasping at straws Incoming The fallen beast Blood Sisters, brothers Love An incestual lie Kingdom comes Death consumes us all As our wings unraveled and turned to dust The downtrodden The down and out Ashes to ashes Dust

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dolgrinbronzebeard

Literature

blessed friend challenge: latiasfan5 day 34

top spiraling mountain Overview: a great rotating mountain, it spins in place Abilities -spin: this mountain is vast and big and constantly spinning at 12 miles per hour all the time -top mine: this place features lots of animal themed top growths inside it's tunnels growing like crystals. A person who touches one, even barely changes into a creature to reflect that top -tectonic: this place generates earthquakes as it slowly spins all around -tunnels inside: this place has many tunnels inside it, they don't spin with the mountain though their entrances are always in motion with the spin monster victim collectible design: a top based waist that's always in motion abilities: letting you glide in the air with each leap and generating shakes when in contact with the ground egg yolk cabin Overview: a big old southern cabin, it's set far in the backwoods Abilities -lost: this place is lost except to those who desperately need help or a lucky break -the

Literature

heartland nexus the forgotten land

name: natural plains portals to it: hidden by the entrances to villages likely threats: lots of beast men and animal transformation plague monsters living here: lots of beast pack members roaming about and half beasts roaming with them local legends about this area: lots of threats lurking just beyond the entrance of many villages who you may run into while here: getting infected by the plague by a stray scratch what will likely happen to you here: you'll be infected by the beast plague and/or captured by the beast pack name: everbay coast portals to it: in urban ruins near the ocean likely threats: lots of kuru living here in different tribes competing with different spirits monsters living here: lots of tropical monsters from the shackles that most of the kuru have tamed local legends about this area: a massive stretch of coast where kuru live with lots of beasts of the shackles who you may run into while here: hoards of kuru ready to gnaw on your bones what will likely

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Badbear1984

Literature

The Six Wings

Upon the wind where shadows play, a crow named Arin flew one day, The flock below began to cheer, yet whispered winds said, “Do not steer Your heart toward praise or hungry pride— Let truth alone become your guide.” A memory in the orchard stirred, where childhood dreams once softly purred. A feather old, a longing deep, awoke the past from gentle sleep. But voices sighed through hollow trees, “Take lessons, not the memories.” Beneath the Moon’s illusioned light, the sea became a silver night. Reflections danced with phantom grace, false versions of Arin took their place. Yet courage whispered through the haze, “Close your eyes. See through the maze.” Upon a lonely pillar stone, the Sage appeared with feathers sown Of stardust grey and ancient lore— “You know the truth you’ve sought before. Let wisdom be the flame you chase, Not fears that shift from place to place.” Then visions rose beyond the sea—lands shaped by possibility. Mountains spun like turning wings, and rivers

Literature

The King Beneath the Feathers

The crow had not slept in four nights. He sat on the windowsill of an abandoned tower, staring at the moon as if it owed him answers. Below him, the world moved in silence—oceans breathing against the shore, trees bending in the wind, stars shifting in their endless patterns—but inside him, there was only noise. Thoughts pecked at him like hungry birds. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t feel it. On the fourth night, he found a small silver cup left at his window. Inside it shimmered water that reflected not his face, but memories—old grief, old love, old words never spoken. At first, he wanted to throw it away. Feelings made him weak, or so he had been taught. But the cup whispered. Look. So he did. He saw the truth: exhaustion had disguised itself as strength. His endless fighting, endless proving, endless surviving—it had become armor so heavy he forgot he could remove it. As dawn broke, a lion emerged from the woods below, golden-eyed and still. On its back stood another

Literature

The Flock of the Hollow Wing

The cliff was not always a place of beginnings. In the shadow‑realm, it was a place of endings. Fog draped itself over the jagged stones like torn veils, and the sun never rose fully here—it only pulsed behind the clouds like a dying heart. Nothing stirred except the wind and the crows whose wings reflected no light, because no light reached them. They were the Hollow Wing: the watchers of endings, keepers of the in‑between. The eldest crow perched on a crooked branch, feathers ragged, eyes like obsidian shards. They tasted the air—the scent of fear, of possibility, of a soul nearing the threshold. “The Fool approaches,” the elder croaked, voice scraping like stone against bone. The younger crows hissed in anticipation. Few wanderers ever reached this realm. Fewer survived it. But the Fool walked with a strange, luminous innocence that unsettled the gloom. They were carrying light into a place that had forgotten light existed. Their small dog whimpered at their heels, tail

KarasuShade

Literature

The golden fields of Khasenmor (Soar)

Near-endless golden fields stretched far and wide beneath the blazing sun high up in the sky, the tall savanna grasses whispering in long, rippling waves whenever the wind managed to stir the heavy heat. The air itself nearly seemed to shimmer, bending the horizon into a mirage of distant water that never truly existed. Scattered acacia trees stretched thin, crooked branches like skeletal hands clawing at the sky, offering only meager patches of shade to anything fortunate, or desperate enough to find them. And the young griffin Yukito had been out since sunrise. He had moved carefully through the grass, pale feathers catching the rising, harsh sunlight so brightly they almost seemed to glow. His pinkish eyes darted from plant to plant, scanning for anything remotely useful. A small satchel hung from his side, already half-filled with bundles of leaves, roots, and odd-looking seed pods tied together with thin strands of fiber. He paused at a low-growing plant with dark, waxy leaves.

Literature

First partol into the jungle (Soar)

Jericho paused for a moment, his claws trembling slightly as he adjusted the stack of cards in front of him. He forced himself to slow his breathing. One deep breath in. One out. The familiar ritual helped calm the restless storm inside his chest. Carefully, he checked his equipment again. The prepared spell cards rested neatly in a leather pouch at his side, each one inscribed with runes and symbols he had spent hours perfecting. Alongside them were the blank cards, smooth, pale surfaces waiting for magic to be written into them if the need arose. A small vial of enchanted ink hung from a strap, and a feather quill was secured carefully beside it. Everything he needed to improvise new spellcasting if things went wrong. His claws moved next to the gloves covering his forelegs. Embedded within the leather were several small rune stones, each carved and set with care. That glove was his own creation, a wishful experimental focus to help him to no longer use these paper cards to channel

Literature

Deep in the Jungle (Soar)

“Oh no…” mumbeled the griffin, his voice barely louder than the restless whisper of leaves overhead. He turned in a slow circle, pink eyes searching for anything familiar, anything that might point him back to the main path. But there was nothing, only an endless maze of towering trees, tangled vines, and suffocating, humid greenery. Yukito was hopelessly lost. The Rainforest of the Meletua Region had a reputation, one he had been well aware of before setting foot beneath its dense canopy. Travelers spoke of shifting paths, deceptive terrain, and creatures whose calls echoed from unseen places. Yukito had listened to those warnings with a curious tilt of his head and a confident flick of his wings. He had not expected it to be this bad. The air was thick and humid, clinging to his feathers and fur. Every breath felt heavier than the last, as though the jungle itself resisted his presence. Strange sounds echoed from all directions, clicks, rustles, distant cries that rose and fell in

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Literature

An end and a beginning

Life is a current of experiences. We are carried along through the good and the bad times. We see a sunrise for the first time and feel its warmth on our skin. We fall a sleep listening to a story. There is a first love and a heart break. An achievement and a failure. Time moves along and all these disconnected events start to make sense. They summarize the past and plan the future. The beauty is no one person has the same story. Some write it, some just live it. When the end comes the cycle has already started for someone else. Across generations. Across happiness and sorrow, across firsts and endings.

Literature

Brother, have I lost it?

Notebooks scatter, cluttering a desk that’s been a mess for months. A Laptop that cost seven hundred dollars—four to five documents open, all empty spaces. Wheels stutter over a bump, caught by the carpet, as she stands up. She leaves the chair there, pointing toward the door for when she’s ready to come back. Engine, headlights on, P shifts to R to D. Norwalk. Street lights, green, yellow, red. Street lamps, on, flickering, dead. Nava Street, her best friend’s old house. She doesn’t stop to look in the rearview, he’s not living anymore. Shoemaker Ave, she’s close now. It’s a dead end— Zimmerman Park. Tires roll past empty stalls. She tucks the car between houses and the railroad tracks. She twists the key. The ignition dies. Both hands grip the steering wheel, then release as she slumps back. The throat clamps. She clears it. She opens the door and steps out. Asphalt—she drags her feet, until she reaches the curb. She turns, sits, and looks right. John Glenn High

Literature

Lucid Dreams

Before any neuron sparked, Before the beginning of REM sleep, Before the word "dream" had a name. There was The Wave. Beta waves, gamma waves, And many more, passing in darkness Like stars forming constellations, Seeking out a brain to call home. That’s when you appeared. The first spark of self-consciousness, Born in the sleeping universe Like a house erected on thoughts fueled by electricity. The right side of your brain transforms Into an ever-flowing stream of memories While other parts pulsate with the feeling of your physical body, that no longer exists. The true self opens its eyes As a gateway between worlds and gazes inward upon itself Across the void and for a moment, awareness remembers it was ancient long before you were born. In this realm, lucid dreaming is not something that happens, But a state of being. You go higher. The pull of gravity distorts. You go lower. The fabric of spacetime adjusts So, you can make your descent. High-frequency waves explode As if

writings

Literature

Easy Come Easy Go

Sometimes I reflect, On the gifts I have received, The ability to learn quickly, An ease to make connections. How easy it is, To be proud of your intellect, Your strength or beauty, Or even of your creativity. We compare ourselves, And believe in our superiority, Over those who weren’t as lucky, Who live in a constant struggle. It is easy to forget, isn’t it? How quickly fortune can change, A random accident of life, And who you were is gone. Oh, how we learn then, To value every effort, No matter how small it seems, For it is the once proud and fallen, Who understand true humility.

Literature

distance

i wish we had talked through the sunrise. i could have told you the sky’s every secret i could have spied on the clouds as they blushed brightest maroonpinkorange and you were still shrouded in bluevioletblack i could have warned you by weeping that the change was too intimate to view alone

Literature

Rest

I fall to the dawn In the grip of stranger dreams To wake unknowing

Elysium Chronicles RPs

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Featured in Groups

Equus-Ballator

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Summoned to Another World Not as the hero

The world of Aethelgard did not welcome Kaelen and Elias with open arms; it tore them apart with the cold, calculated precision of a guillotine. One moment, they were college seniors arguing over a philosophy paper in a rain-slicked alleyway in Seattle. The next, a blinding, violet rupture in the fabric of reality consumed them. When they awoke, the air smelled of ozone and ancient stone. They stood in the center of a cathedral-like chamber, surrounded by robed figures whose faces were hidden behind masks of hammered silver. "The prophecy demands a Champion of Light," one of the figures intoned, his voice echoing with an unnatural resonance. They pointed a trembling finger at Kaelen. "You, the vessel of potential, shall be taken to the Spire of Aeons. You will be forged into the blade that severs the darkness." Before Elias could protest—before he could even reach for his friend’s jacket—a shimmering barrier slammed down between them. Kaelen was swept away by the robed acolytes, his

Literature

The Mix of Iron and Blood: Chapter Seven

A Cloudless Tempest Previous Chapter The sea had finally stopped trying to kill them. For three days aboard Oribel's Luck, nearly every member of the party had been convinced that the vessel's true purpose was not to get them to their destination but to endlessly torture. The deck rolled beneath their feet with wild unpredictability. Hammocks swung like pendulums designed by demons. Every meal seemed determined to return to the world through the same path it had been ingested. Now, nearly two weeks south of Oyahal, the voyage had settled into something approaching routine. The morning sun painted the western sea in brilliant gold as Oribel's Luck rode gentle swells along the coastline. To starboard, the mainland stretched endlessly southward, a ribbon of green forest broken occasionally by beaches of white sand or rocky cliffs that dropped into the surf. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries carrying across the water on the warm breeze. Elkog stood at the bow, breathing

Literature

NIGHTSHADE EYES

Shadows land Blinding light Death's disguise Soulless minds Lifeless eyes Dead inside Hidden away Silent cry Lost in prayer Preyed upon A victimless crime Hiding inside Where the the monsters come out to play Reasoning Beyond a reasonable doubt Nothing to see Invisible to the light Mirror, mirror on the wall Why do my eyes bleed Captive in your grandeur of delusion A myriad of eyes Faceless in the night gone in an instant The mind's eye In the flicker of a flame Shot down Numbers fall in reverse Lost in paradise A paradox Dead man's fall The waking dream DMT Stolen Coming down Dark Angel The underworld Quicksilver Liquid skies Gone in the blink of an eye Mercury rising Eternal flame Grace Eternity Dying to survive To have your say Grasping at straws Incoming The fallen beast Blood Sisters, brothers Love An incestual lie Kingdom comes Death consumes us all As our wings unraveled and turned to dust The downtrodden The down and out Ashes to ashes Dust

Suggested Deviants

dolgrinbronzebeard

Literature

blessed friend challenge: latiasfan5 day 34

top spiraling mountain Overview: a great rotating mountain, it spins in place Abilities -spin: this mountain is vast and big and constantly spinning at 12 miles per hour all the time -top mine: this place features lots of animal themed top growths inside it's tunnels growing like crystals. A person who touches one, even barely changes into a creature to reflect that top -tectonic: this place generates earthquakes as it slowly spins all around -tunnels inside: this place has many tunnels inside it, they don't spin with the mountain though their entrances are always in motion with the spin monster victim collectible design: a top based waist that's always in motion abilities: letting you glide in the air with each leap and generating shakes when in contact with the ground egg yolk cabin Overview: a big old southern cabin, it's set far in the backwoods Abilities -lost: this place is lost except to those who desperately need help or a lucky break -the

Literature

heartland nexus the forgotten land

name: natural plains portals to it: hidden by the entrances to villages likely threats: lots of beast men and animal transformation plague monsters living here: lots of beast pack members roaming about and half beasts roaming with them local legends about this area: lots of threats lurking just beyond the entrance of many villages who you may run into while here: getting infected by the plague by a stray scratch what will likely happen to you here: you'll be infected by the beast plague and/or captured by the beast pack name: everbay coast portals to it: in urban ruins near the ocean likely threats: lots of kuru living here in different tribes competing with different spirits monsters living here: lots of tropical monsters from the shackles that most of the kuru have tamed local legends about this area: a massive stretch of coast where kuru live with lots of beasts of the shackles who you may run into while here: hoards of kuru ready to gnaw on your bones what will likely

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Badbear1984

Literature

The Six Wings

Upon the wind where shadows play, a crow named Arin flew one day, The flock below began to cheer, yet whispered winds said, “Do not steer Your heart toward praise or hungry pride— Let truth alone become your guide.” A memory in the orchard stirred, where childhood dreams once softly purred. A feather old, a longing deep, awoke the past from gentle sleep. But voices sighed through hollow trees, “Take lessons, not the memories.” Beneath the Moon’s illusioned light, the sea became a silver night. Reflections danced with phantom grace, false versions of Arin took their place. Yet courage whispered through the haze, “Close your eyes. See through the maze.” Upon a lonely pillar stone, the Sage appeared with feathers sown Of stardust grey and ancient lore— “You know the truth you’ve sought before. Let wisdom be the flame you chase, Not fears that shift from place to place.” Then visions rose beyond the sea—lands shaped by possibility. Mountains spun like turning wings, and rivers

Literature

The King Beneath the Feathers

The crow had not slept in four nights. He sat on the windowsill of an abandoned tower, staring at the moon as if it owed him answers. Below him, the world moved in silence—oceans breathing against the shore, trees bending in the wind, stars shifting in their endless patterns—but inside him, there was only noise. Thoughts pecked at him like hungry birds. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t feel it. On the fourth night, he found a small silver cup left at his window. Inside it shimmered water that reflected not his face, but memories—old grief, old love, old words never spoken. At first, he wanted to throw it away. Feelings made him weak, or so he had been taught. But the cup whispered. Look. So he did. He saw the truth: exhaustion had disguised itself as strength. His endless fighting, endless proving, endless surviving—it had become armor so heavy he forgot he could remove it. As dawn broke, a lion emerged from the woods below, golden-eyed and still. On its back stood another

Literature

The Flock of the Hollow Wing

The cliff was not always a place of beginnings. In the shadow‑realm, it was a place of endings. Fog draped itself over the jagged stones like torn veils, and the sun never rose fully here—it only pulsed behind the clouds like a dying heart. Nothing stirred except the wind and the crows whose wings reflected no light, because no light reached them. They were the Hollow Wing: the watchers of endings, keepers of the in‑between. The eldest crow perched on a crooked branch, feathers ragged, eyes like obsidian shards. They tasted the air—the scent of fear, of possibility, of a soul nearing the threshold. “The Fool approaches,” the elder croaked, voice scraping like stone against bone. The younger crows hissed in anticipation. Few wanderers ever reached this realm. Fewer survived it. But the Fool walked with a strange, luminous innocence that unsettled the gloom. They were carrying light into a place that had forgotten light existed. Their small dog whimpered at their heels, tail

KarasuShade

Literature

The golden fields of Khasenmor (Soar)

Near-endless golden fields stretched far and wide beneath the blazing sun high up in the sky, the tall savanna grasses whispering in long, rippling waves whenever the wind managed to stir the heavy heat. The air itself nearly seemed to shimmer, bending the horizon into a mirage of distant water that never truly existed. Scattered acacia trees stretched thin, crooked branches like skeletal hands clawing at the sky, offering only meager patches of shade to anything fortunate, or desperate enough to find them. And the young griffin Yukito had been out since sunrise. He had moved carefully through the grass, pale feathers catching the rising, harsh sunlight so brightly they almost seemed to glow. His pinkish eyes darted from plant to plant, scanning for anything remotely useful. A small satchel hung from his side, already half-filled with bundles of leaves, roots, and odd-looking seed pods tied together with thin strands of fiber. He paused at a low-growing plant with dark, waxy leaves.

Literature

First partol into the jungle (Soar)

Jericho paused for a moment, his claws trembling slightly as he adjusted the stack of cards in front of him. He forced himself to slow his breathing. One deep breath in. One out. The familiar ritual helped calm the restless storm inside his chest. Carefully, he checked his equipment again. The prepared spell cards rested neatly in a leather pouch at his side, each one inscribed with runes and symbols he had spent hours perfecting. Alongside them were the blank cards, smooth, pale surfaces waiting for magic to be written into them if the need arose. A small vial of enchanted ink hung from a strap, and a feather quill was secured carefully beside it. Everything he needed to improvise new spellcasting if things went wrong. His claws moved next to the gloves covering his forelegs. Embedded within the leather were several small rune stones, each carved and set with care. That glove was his own creation, a wishful experimental focus to help him to no longer use these paper cards to channel

Literature

Deep in the Jungle (Soar)

“Oh no…” mumbeled the griffin, his voice barely louder than the restless whisper of leaves overhead. He turned in a slow circle, pink eyes searching for anything familiar, anything that might point him back to the main path. But there was nothing, only an endless maze of towering trees, tangled vines, and suffocating, humid greenery. Yukito was hopelessly lost. The Rainforest of the Meletua Region had a reputation, one he had been well aware of before setting foot beneath its dense canopy. Travelers spoke of shifting paths, deceptive terrain, and creatures whose calls echoed from unseen places. Yukito had listened to those warnings with a curious tilt of his head and a confident flick of his wings. He had not expected it to be this bad. The air was thick and humid, clinging to his feathers and fur. Every breath felt heavier than the last, as though the jungle itself resisted his presence. Strange sounds echoed from all directions, clicks, rustles, distant cries that rose and fell in

Suggested Collections

Calm Reading

Literature

An end and a beginning

Life is a current of experiences. We are carried along through the good and the bad times. We see a sunrise for the first time and feel its warmth on our skin. We fall a sleep listening to a story. There is a first love and a heart break. An achievement and a failure. Time moves along and all these disconnected events start to make sense. They summarize the past and plan the future. The beauty is no one person has the same story. Some write it, some just live it. When the end comes the cycle has already started for someone else. Across generations. Across happiness and sorrow, across firsts and endings.

Literature

Brother, have I lost it?

Notebooks scatter, cluttering a desk that’s been a mess for months. A Laptop that cost seven hundred dollars—four to five documents open, all empty spaces. Wheels stutter over a bump, caught by the carpet, as she stands up. She leaves the chair there, pointing toward the door for when she’s ready to come back. Engine, headlights on, P shifts to R to D. Norwalk. Street lights, green, yellow, red. Street lamps, on, flickering, dead. Nava Street, her best friend’s old house. She doesn’t stop to look in the rearview, he’s not living anymore. Shoemaker Ave, she’s close now. It’s a dead end— Zimmerman Park. Tires roll past empty stalls. She tucks the car between houses and the railroad tracks. She twists the key. The ignition dies. Both hands grip the steering wheel, then release as she slumps back. The throat clamps. She clears it. She opens the door and steps out. Asphalt—she drags her feet, until she reaches the curb. She turns, sits, and looks right. John Glenn High

Literature

Lucid Dreams

Before any neuron sparked, Before the beginning of REM sleep, Before the word "dream" had a name. There was The Wave. Beta waves, gamma waves, And many more, passing in darkness Like stars forming constellations, Seeking out a brain to call home. That’s when you appeared. The first spark of self-consciousness, Born in the sleeping universe Like a house erected on thoughts fueled by electricity. The right side of your brain transforms Into an ever-flowing stream of memories While other parts pulsate with the feeling of your physical body, that no longer exists. The true self opens its eyes As a gateway between worlds and gazes inward upon itself Across the void and for a moment, awareness remembers it was ancient long before you were born. In this realm, lucid dreaming is not something that happens, But a state of being. You go higher. The pull of gravity distorts. You go lower. The fabric of spacetime adjusts So, you can make your descent. High-frequency waves explode As if

writings

Literature

Easy Come Easy Go

Sometimes I reflect, On the gifts I have received, The ability to learn quickly, An ease to make connections. How easy it is, To be proud of your intellect, Your strength or beauty, Or even of your creativity. We compare ourselves, And believe in our superiority, Over those who weren’t as lucky, Who live in a constant struggle. It is easy to forget, isn’t it? How quickly fortune can change, A random accident of life, And who you were is gone. Oh, how we learn then, To value every effort, No matter how small it seems, For it is the once proud and fallen, Who understand true humility.

Literature

distance

i wish we had talked through the sunrise. i could have told you the sky’s every secret i could have spied on the clouds as they blushed brightest maroonpinkorange and you were still shrouded in bluevioletblack i could have warned you by weeping that the change was too intimate to view alone

Literature

Rest

I fall to the dawn In the grip of stranger dreams To wake unknowing

Elysium Chronicles RPs

Rareaji on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/rareaji/art/Event-Illusions-for-Disillusion-part-13-1256894062Rareaji

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KamiraWolfDemon on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kamirawolfdemon/art/Rescued-in-the-Nick-of-Time-1259360860KamiraWolfDemon

Featured in Groups

Equus-Ballator

Deviation Actions

Summoned to Another World Not as the hero

The Mix of Iron and Blood: Chapter Seven

NIGHTSHADE EYES

blessed friend challenge: latiasfan5 day 34

heartland nexus the forgotten land

The Six Wings

The King Beneath the Feathers

The Flock of the Hollow Wing

The golden fields of Khasenmor (Soar)

First partol into the jungle (Soar)

Deep in the Jungle (Soar)

An end and a beginning

Brother, have I lost it?

Lucid Dreams

Easy Come Easy Go

distance

Rest

Summoned to Another World Not as the hero

The Mix of Iron and Blood: Chapter Seven

NIGHTSHADE EYES

blessed friend challenge: latiasfan5 day 34

heartland nexus the forgotten land

The Six Wings

The King Beneath the Feathers

The Flock of the Hollow Wing

The golden fields of Khasenmor (Soar)

First partol into the jungle (Soar)

Deep in the Jungle (Soar)

An end and a beginning

Brother, have I lost it?

Lucid Dreams

Easy Come Easy Go

distance

Rest

Enbaby

Description

Summoned to Another World Not as the hero

The Mix of Iron and Blood: Chapter Seven

NIGHTSHADE EYES

blessed friend challenge: latiasfan5 day 34

heartland nexus the forgotten land

The Six Wings

The King Beneath the Feathers

The Flock of the Hollow Wing

The golden fields of Khasenmor (Soar)

First partol into the jungle (Soar)

Deep in the Jungle (Soar)

An end and a beginning

Brother, have I lost it?

Lucid Dreams

Easy Come Easy Go

distance

Rest