[align=center][div style="width: 435px; text-align: justify; font-family: work sans light, arial; line-height: 1.2; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 8pt"]Echo
/ˈekō/
Noun
1. Veins containing hellfire, eyes carrying oceans, it breathes ruination. Though, while the cracks and snaps ever flees from corrupted system, like blood and control, it can never be free from itself. Body, it gets taken. Heart, it gets eaten. Mind, it gets shaken. Soul, it always awaken.
2. It, it, it. Always, always, always.
3. I t a l w a y s i t a l w a y s i t a l w a y s . . .
4. ( Look at me. )
5. Gray eyes blinks, and from the blur of damned bridges and abandoned churches, they find a wall of bells. All broken and forgotten. Left behind with smokes that enters running nose and ashes that coats dried throat. It coughs, glancing around its surrounding. Burnt trees, beaten grounds, everything black. It closes its eyes.
6. It feels. It knows. It sees you.
7. Through the heavy breathing and quick beating, as grains sticks beneath swollen pads, flattened ears catches the waves calling it to come Home. Come Home, come Home, come Home, they chant... One, two, three, it sits on where it stands—the sands—and aggressively wipes the tears off of its cheeks. An act of stubbornness. Quiet.
8. The waves only roars at it. Always the defiant one.
9. Always. Always. Always. Inhaling unease, then exhaling resilience, its gaze settles on the fallen bells, gentle even when their bones rattles madly within hollow case. Paws twitches, teeth tingles. It shifts and reaches for them so they can be gathered into a pile. Silent helper it is. Be careful.
10. After taking and placing, and taking and placing, it stills. A stack of effort presents before soft smile and bright eyes. Not enough to gather all of the objects, it believes, but some of it is still there nevertheless. It puffs its chest and claps its forepaws. It winces at the pain kicking them for celebrating over what no one else will care about.
11. Once its forepaws awkwardly tucks back together, it notices a bell sets close from where it sits and its pile. The object glows. Pureness it holds. It nearly stumbles when its stands against the hot surface once more, but it manages to carry its whole weight as it pads towards the undamaged ball and taps it with its claw.
12. It does not ring nor sing.
13. It only pleads, and pleads, and pleads.
14. As always.
Admin's Note: Teleported by the Typhoon's gate / border, highly exhausted and sore, but not injured - Gathered the bells that were on the ground into a pile - Seemed to not care about anything but wanting to clean one part of the island
/ˈekō/
Noun
1. Veins containing hellfire, eyes carrying oceans, it breathes ruination. Though, while the cracks and snaps ever flees from corrupted system, like blood and control, it can never be free from itself. Body, it gets taken. Heart, it gets eaten. Mind, it gets shaken. Soul, it always awaken.
2. It, it, it. Always, always, always.
3. I t a l w a y s i t a l w a y s i t a l w a y s . . .
4. ( Look at me. )
5. Gray eyes blinks, and from the blur of damned bridges and abandoned churches, they find a wall of bells. All broken and forgotten. Left behind with smokes that enters running nose and ashes that coats dried throat. It coughs, glancing around its surrounding. Burnt trees, beaten grounds, everything black. It closes its eyes.
6. It feels. It knows. It sees you.
7. Through the heavy breathing and quick beating, as grains sticks beneath swollen pads, flattened ears catches the waves calling it to come Home. Come Home, come Home, come Home, they chant... One, two, three, it sits on where it stands—the sands—and aggressively wipes the tears off of its cheeks. An act of stubbornness. Quiet.
8. The waves only roars at it. Always the defiant one.
9. Always. Always. Always. Inhaling unease, then exhaling resilience, its gaze settles on the fallen bells, gentle even when their bones rattles madly within hollow case. Paws twitches, teeth tingles. It shifts and reaches for them so they can be gathered into a pile. Silent helper it is. Be careful.
10. After taking and placing, and taking and placing, it stills. A stack of effort presents before soft smile and bright eyes. Not enough to gather all of the objects, it believes, but some of it is still there nevertheless. It puffs its chest and claps its forepaws. It winces at the pain kicking them for celebrating over what no one else will care about.
11. Once its forepaws awkwardly tucks back together, it notices a bell sets close from where it sits and its pile. The object glows. Pureness it holds. It nearly stumbles when its stands against the hot surface once more, but it manages to carry its whole weight as it pads towards the undamaged ball and taps it with its claw.
12. It does not ring nor sing.
13. It only pleads, and pleads, and pleads.
14. As always.
Admin's Note: Teleported by the Typhoon's gate / border, highly exhausted and sore, but not injured - Gathered the bells that were on the ground into a pile - Seemed to not care about anything but wanting to clean one part of the island
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[align=left][b]❝ AXCIO X. OICXA ❞ —————————————————————————
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