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|- %(white)[.]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐒𝐇𝐘𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐈 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐘𝐗 **⤟**]%(white)[|] -|
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|-❝ 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹？❞
°𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓 𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒆°(#570511 & darkred) ✧ [𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅](
pinterest.com/ayzrules/but-if-i-choos…) ✧ [𝑨𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒆𝒕](
urstyle.com/styles/2136976) -|
|- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|- %(#700415)[𝑭𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆]
Shyldri Nyx-|
|- %(#700415)[𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆(𝒔)]
Her aunt used to call her "Shyl", but that was a long time ago. Behind her back, people call her a madwoman and a sorceress (laughably untrue, since Shyldri doesn't have a single ounce of magic, but don't ask Shyldri how people's minds work), but most don't have the balls to say it to her face. It's not Shyldri would particularly *care* if someone said that in front of her, but I digress. -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆]
Nyx-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑻𝒊𝒕𝒍𝒆(𝒔)]
Lady (out of respect, not because she holds any actual lands) -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑨𝒈𝒆]
Twenty-nine -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚]
August 29th -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒏]
Virgo -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆]
House Nyx's seat of power (the Shadowstone Keep) in Pulum, Ansis -|
|- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|- %(white)[.]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 **⤟**]%(white)[|]-|
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|- ❝ 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹. ❞-|
|-%(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓]
Female -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑺𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚]
Asexual-she doesn't particularly care for romance, either way. -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑶𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]
None -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑬𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]
Nothing besides the traditional education that most women of her standing would receive, with a little added instruction in magical items once she realized that she was quite good at sensing which items had magical properties. Her aunt was also quite insistent that she learn about the desert she called home, even if such knowledge wasn't usually the kind of thing that a girl of Shyldri's status would have.-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔]
Could probably sew an entire tapestry in her sleep; has the neatest, tiniest little stitches (they're nigh-on invisible, when she's *really* concentrating); very good at intricate embroidery and lacework (and just, all forms of needlework in general); a skilled weaver-there is nothing she cherishes more than her loom; like the rest of her house, she has an uncanny knack for picking out items with magical properties-something akin to a sixth sense; very knowledgeable about the ecological aspects of the Styx Desert; familiar with a wide variety of poisons and their antidotes-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑾𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔]
Has never really recovered from losing her son, leaving her rather frail and sickly; has no combat ability to speak of; doesn't really care for court etiquette, even though she's well-aware of what she's supposed to say and do; does not have a single musical bone in her body; has no magical abilities; not really the first person you'd want to go to for advice -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔]
None to speak of. However, she *does* happen to be in possession of a magical object (Is it cursed? Is it blessed? Who knows). In addition, she has an uncanny knack for finding objects with magical properties, just like the rest of her house. Shyldri regards it as something akin to a sixth sense. -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑮𝒐𝒂𝒍𝒔]
To make her cousin, the High Lord of House Nyx, suffer for what he's done. -|
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|-%(white)[1]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 & 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 **⤟**]%(white)[|]-|
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|- ❝ 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃. ❞-|
|-%(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆(𝒔)]
To herself, and to the people of Ansis (though not necessarily to the high lords and ladies) and to the Styx Desert . The rest of the world can burn, for all she cares. -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔]
Single-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒁𝒆𝒖𝒔]
Shyldri's pretty apathetic towards House Zeus. She doesn't particularly care, one way or the other. They'll be nothing after the king dies. There's no *reason* for her to care about them. -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒖𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆]
Well, it certainly is interesting, she'll give you that. Shyldri honestly doesn't want to be queen-she just wants to find a way to make her cousin pay for his crimes.-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄]
Shyldri considers it a useful means to an end, and although she has a healthy amount of respect for what magic can do, she's by no means *afraid* of it. Shyldri willingly embraces the magic that's affected her life, and she's not one to shy away from the mention of dark magic as others do. -|
|-%(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(white)[1]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 **⤟**]%(white)[|]-|
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|- ❝ 𝑀𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁. 𝒜 𝓅𝓈𝓎𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸, 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹-𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽...𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁. ❞ -|
|- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔]
Calm and collected under even the most trying of circumstances (*most* of the time); logical and rational when she's not letting her temper get the best of her; picks up on small, specific details; meticulous and thorough in everything that she does; exceedingly patient, when she knows she has to be; determined; observant and analytical; shrewd; can be surprisingly sympathetic towards children; she was once quite sweet and caring, if that counts for anything -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑵𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔]
More often than not, her temper *does* get the best of her; stubborn and unyielding once she's made up her mind-almost dangerously so; ruthless and amoral; blunt; does not have the patience to mince her words; very harsh and severe; definitely not the most emotionally stable person (which TBH negates most of her positive traits, because she has no control over herself when she's emotionally vulnerable); will do anything for the vengeance she desires, the rest of the world be damned; really does not give a single shit about what she has to do to bring her cousin down; lowkey highkey going crazy? But we don't talk about that; can be shortsightedly disparaging; cold and callous; can be cruel and unfeeling; more likely to inspire fear than love in the people she encounters; really doesn't have anyone that she trusts 100%; holds a grudge until the end of time -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆]
Everything about Shyldri is harsh, from her curt nods to her clipped words to the sharp angles of her body and her gaunt fingers. Shyldri carries herself severely, her hair pulled back tightly and her back ramrod straight, no matter what the occasion. Her steps are quick, brusque, and she comes off as very stand-offish. Shyldri is most definitely not one to mince her words, and she has very little regard about the hurt feelings of others. There is only one thing that she wants, and after she has it, the world can burn. -|
|-Though she is *always* veiled in public, Shyldri's eyes are as quick and sharp as those of a hawk, and the veils are translucent enough that she can see perfectly when she has them on (which is not a fact that those around her will always realize, as Shyldri has come to understand). She is blunt, direct, and to the point, and has very, very little patience for simpering fools who think that flattery and honeyed words will distract her. -|
|- Any friends that Shyldri once had are no longer friends of hers. No suitors beg for her hand in marriage, no artists hope to earn her patronage. That's fine. Shyldri tells herself that she has very little use for friends, and even less for suitors or artists. She is normally alone when she is in private, though she will be accompanied by Talos, her cousin's adviser, during her stay in the capital. Though she is usually rather quiet and does not speak her mind very often, if someone makes her lose her temper, the tenuous control she holds over her emotions snaps and she becomes the madwoman that they all believe her to be.-|
|- Cold, callous, and bitter, it is no wonder that Shyldri is not the most popular of people. She cuts quite the intimidating figure in her black skirts and black veils, and people whisper that she has gone mad, that she died with her baby when her cousin killed him. That's fine. With regards to the first part, Shyldri knows that she is not mad (she's not, right? Right?), and as for the second...well, Shyldri thinks that it is quite true, so why should she try to deny it? -|
|-%(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(white)[1]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 **⤟**]%(white)[|]-|
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|-❝ 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝒶 𝑔 𝒶 𝒾 𝓃. ❞ -|
|- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
%(#700415)[𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]
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%(white)[▏▏]Cousin to the High Lord and bearing the same family name, Shyldri is as harsh as the hot sand in a piercing wind. She once had a bastard boy, a shame on the family. Shyldri didn't care though; her boy was destined to travel across the desert and restore Olympiad's glory. Of course, no one else shared that opinion, and the High Lord had the babe killed in front of her to teach her a lesson. Shyldri's nights are still haunted with that scene. She hates her Lord and her goddess for letting her blessed son die. She stays up in her chamber's sewing baby clothes that will never be worn. Shyldri will never tell anyone who the father was and won't even talk about her son. Now that she is getting older and people are forgetting her transgression, the Lord believes it is his duty to see her married to a respectable man. So far, none are willing to even think on the prospect. The rumors of her madness exaggerate the truth, but it is enough to keep prospects away. So the Lord is sending her to Steden with his most trusted adviser — the secret father of her bastard — to find her a suitable match. But as the only member of House Nyx at the capital, she may finally begin to spin the narrative to her advantage and get the revenge on the cousin she has long been waiting to take down.
%(#700415)[𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒊𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒚]
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%(white)[▏▏]Shyldri has never feared the darkness.
%(white)[▏▏]And why should she? In the desert, the darkness is a respite from the stifling heat of the noonday sun. In the desert, the darkness is when the world comes alive with the chirps and cackles and snarls and screeches of innumerable forms of life-life that has changed and adapted to live in the harsh land of sky and sand; life that somehow *thrives* in this land despite the burning sun and the miles and miles of nothingness. In the desert, the darkness is restoration and relief. In the desert, the darkness is *life*.
%(white)[▏▏]Shyldri herself was born in the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. And for as long as she can remember, she has embraced the darkness, letting the cool night air wash away the sweat and dust of the desert at midday. Perhaps the shadows hold monsters and boogeymen, but Shyldri is of the opinion that even they pale in comparison to the relentless heat of the day. She has heard countless stories of poor souls being lost in the swirling sand or falling over from dehydration, and Shyldri thinks *that* is what people should fear-the untiring, unforgiving patience of the desert sun on a summer day. It is a patience that will outlast that of any being of this world, man or god. And when everything she has known or will ever know is dead and gone, the sun and the desert will still be there.
%(white)[▏▏]As the daughter of a second son to House Nyx, Shyldri was important enough to be married off for a political alliance, but not important enough to be coddled and pampered like her cousin. Her mother died in the childbed, and her father disappeared with her aunt before she was even born, so the only parents she ever knew were that of her aunt and uncle, the former High Lord and Lady of Pulum. Her uncle, the late Lord Nyclas, was rather distant and aloof (he had a son to be paying attention to, you see), but her aunt, Lady Alaya, raised her as if she were her own within the walls of the Shadowstone Keep.
%(white)[▏▏]Shyldri had a very normal childhood. They all said that she took after her biological mother, Lady Katryna-shy, sweet, and soft-spoken, Shyldri spent most of her time alone or with her aunt weaving, sewing and embroidering, and reading (Lady Alaya had the most *lovely* needlework, and she was quite the gifted weaver-her father's house was one sworn to House Athens, you see). She never really knew her cousin or her uncle, and any interactions with them were always distant and polite.
%(white)[▏▏]As a teenager, Shyldri was still shy and sweet, but she was surprisingly perceptive when it came to magical items. Despite the fact that her uncle, then-High Lord Nyclas, barely gave her any sort of instruction with regards to her ability, Shyldri was able to harness her skill herself, drawing on all the razor-like precision that she normally put to use when weaving or embroidering.
%(white)[▏▏]During a particularly hot summer, both Shyldri's aunt and uncle succumbed to the heat, and Shyldri understood why one should fear the sun more than they fear the moon. Her cousin, Lady Alaya's only child, was now High Lord Nicaynor Nyx, and of course Shyldri was allowed to stay in the Shadowstone Keep, considering the fact that she was the ward of Lord Nyclas before his death. For the most part, she was left alone-she and her cousin were never close, thanks to Lord Nyclas' control over his son-and she was free to weave and sew and read and wander the halls of the keep for as long as she pleased.
%(white)[▏▏]One day, Shyldri stumbled upon an amulet, by chance, in a marketplace. She could immediately see the power it held, and she purchased it. She felt it *calling* to her, and she felt strangely drawn to it, and she waited until she was alone in her chambers to thread it through a length of twine and slip it around her neck. When she did, Shyldri was overwhelmed by the visions that began to race through her head.
%(white)[▏▏]At first, the visions were maddening; swirling, twisting, always moving, drawn past her through a rushing current. Shyldri could never focus on one image for a long enough time to make sense of it. All she could do was snatch onto a glimpse, every now and then-she saw the desert and the sun and the moon and stars; she saw the snakes and the long-eared rabbits of the arid land she called home and she heard the cackles and chirps of the creatures that only ventured out at night. She saw a baby, a baby, there was always a baby, she saw the baby growing, she saw him walking, she heard a voice whispering that the baby was blessed, blessed to walk the desert, blessed to bring glory back to Olympiad. *The others don't live as you do,* the voice whispered, *the others control and beat down the land that gives you life and turn to the skies, where their precious gods do nothing and let them try to control this land.*
%(white)[▏▏]*They must see the error in their ways, they must recognize that your way is right,* and Shyldri believed that wispy voice, because nobody could control the desert, and every night, in what should have been the bleakest corner of the world, she heard the insects and rodents and reptiles come alive. Here in the desert, the darkness was life, and the creatures that survived were clever and resourceful and knew how to live off the harsh land. Could the pampered lords and ladies of Stedenland or Witten say the same? Ansis was an unforgiving land, a land of nothing but sky and sand, and some called it a wasteland, but Shyldri knew that the creatures had their ways.
%(white)[▏▏]The voice, the visions, they followed her wherever she went. She could drown them out easily, but more often than not, Shyldri actively sought them out, trying to understand. In time, she realized what was required of her. Her son would be blessed to travel the desert and restore Olympiad's glory, and she could not wait until she was married off to some lord or the other, as her cousin wished her to be.
%(white)[▏▏]The voice pointed her to Talos Apate, her cousin's most trusted adviser, and Talos was more loyal to the desert than he was to any man, and Shyldri gave him the amulet to let him see-oh, how *empty* she felt without it!-and he bedded her and she birthed a healthy baby boy. When her cousin discovered that she was round with a child, he demanded that she drink the teas and tonics he had his physicians prepare, but Shyldri refused, *refused*, and when he demanded to know the identity of the father, Shyldri stayed silent, the voice whispering in her head the entire time. And when Nicaynor tried to take the amulet from her, the amulet *burned* and her cousin was recoiling and everyone was staring and all Shyldri wanted was to be left alone.
%(white)[▏▏]She thought that her cousin would stop bothering her, once he realized that she was keeping the baby. She was foolish enough to believe that he would let her raise her child in peace, once he grew tired of asking her for the identity of the father.
%(white)[▏▏]Her son was only alive for three days. Three short days, and then he was ripped from her arms as they slept, and Nicaynor was there, and when he slit her baby's throat Shyldri clawed at her own, wishing for nothing more than to go with him.
%(white)[▏▏]High Lord Nicaynor told her that she had brought dishonor to their house, that she had sullied the family name, that their rivals were waiting for any moment to strike and steal the Shadowstone Keep and take away everything that their ancestors had worked so hard for and *are you even listening to me?*; that she was not to leave her chambers and she was not to see anyone and she was not throw a temper tantrum like she was a child, but all Shyldri could hear was her son's terrified cries as her cousin murdered him.
%(white)[▏▏]Shyldri didn't know how long she spent in the darkness of her quarters-the comforting darkness that blocked out everything besides the cool night air, the darkness that embraced her as she cried herself to sleep, night after night after night. She lit candles when she wanted to sew, because the voice in her head and the visions that filled her dream still spoke of a blessed baby boy, and Shyldri felt suffocated by the grief and all she could do was pick up her needle and sew, sew, sew, and even though her mind had forgotten how to do anything besides grieve, her hands and fingers *knew* how to sew, and so she sewed, staring blankly at the crib that was meant for her baby.
%(white)[▏▏]Shyldri grew numb, slowly. And out of the numbness came the *anger*.
%(white)[▏▏]After one year of confinement, her cousin finally decided that she was to be allowed out of her chambers once more. Shyldri emerged with a black veil over her face (she'd sewn it herself, after she was no longer mad with grief, and she'd pored every ounce of her soul into the delicate embroidery and intricate needlework) and a harshness in her voice that nobody had ever seen from her before. Ever since then, Shyldri has worn nothing but black (she is in mourning, she will *always* be in mourning), and she has never left her private rooms without a veil (she made herself new ones, dozens of them).
%(white)[▏▏]Her mind is clear, now. Mostly. She knows that she must kill her cousin, she must avenge her son, she must listen to the voice that whispered prophecies into her ear and spun visions into her dreams. She knows that she has been wronged, and she does not intend to let Nicaynor get away with it. The opportunity to go to the capital was unexpected (Shyldri had Talos to thank for that), but not unwelcome. Shyldri will *kill* her cousin, when the time is right. When she is no longer a friendless cousin of the High Lord, when she has allies aid her in her plan, allies who are not loyal to her cousin and would be content with what Shyldri could offer.
%(white)[▏▏]But for now, she must be patient. She will bide her time, she will watch, and she will wait. And she will pretend that she has stopped sewing clothes and blankets for her son, she will pretend that her hands don't shake when she weaves, she will pretend that she doesn't see visions in her sleep or hear the voice whispering promises of a blessed son.
%(white)[▏▏]And she will kill her cousin, and everyone who stands in her way. And she is not afraid of the darkness.
|- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(white)[1]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 **⤟**]%(white)[|]-|
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|-❝ 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓋𝑒𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈. ❞ -|
|-%(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(#700415)[𝑻𝒐𝒑 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆]
Sartio for House Poseidon
Indrio for House Tyche
Arianna for House Hera-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑴𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍]
Kawani Prenter-|
|-%(#700415)[𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆]
[Click here](
urstyle.com/styles/2074982)-||- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|-%(white)[1]%(#700415)[**⤠** 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 **&** 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 **⤟**]%(white)[|]-|
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|-❝ 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 **𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽**. ❞ -|
|-%(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
[
|- %(darkred)[**═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════**] -|
|- [**⤠ 𝒪𝓁𝓎𝓂𝓅𝒾𝒶𝒹 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎 ⤟**](
urstyle.com/groups/olympiad-will-fall) -|
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Infinite Cosmos,
Altered Tundra