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€π₯ The Family Exis in silence heavier. binding them to
γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €βοΈ γ
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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1β€βπ₯4π₯4π₯°3π3π€©3π3π3π3β‘2π1πΎ1
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€( i ) A soul lost in deep contemplation π its "existence having left marks through centuries" ` still a figure full of mystery' β
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[βοΈ π » ]
[ Delighted, I ]β¨ Bound by blood and secrets darker than the night itself. no one ever speaks of the past, not openly. Whispers linger in the hallways, softly echoing from behind locked doors, carrying tales of things no one dares to acknowledge. The children, pale and silent, are raised in the shadows of their ancestors, their eyes hollow from a life spent in the dim light of candlelit rooms, where shadows cling like old clothes. They never laugh, never play, only watch and listen, as if they too are waiting for something, or someone, to break the silence. ( π₯ )
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( GENTVIN LAN CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[
Behind these walls, the family has always lived
[ Delighted, I ]
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( GENTVIN LAN CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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γ
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€MANSION OF CALSEARTHγ
€π₯ The Family Exis in silence heavier. binding them to
γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €βοΈ γ
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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€( i ) A soul lost in deep contemplation π its "existence having left marks through centuries" ` still a figure full of mystery' β
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[βοΈ π » ]
[ Delighted, I ]β¨ Bound by blood and secrets darker than the night itself. no one ever speaks of the past, not openly. Whispers linger in the hallways, softly echoing from behind locked doors, carrying tales of things no one dares to acknowledge. The children, pale and silent, are raised in the shadows of their ancestors, their eyes hollow from a life spent in the dim light of candlelit rooms, where shadows cling like old clothes. They never laugh, never play, only watch and listen, as if they too are waiting for something, or someone, to break the silence. ( π₯ )
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( DELILAH HAYES CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[
Behind these walls, the family has always lived
[ Delighted, I ]
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( DELILAH HAYES CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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5β€6π¦6π₯5π€―4β3π³3π3π3π3β€βπ₯1π1
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γ
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€MANSION OF CALSEARTHγ
€π₯ The Family Exis in silence heavier. binding them to
γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €βοΈ γ
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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€( i ) A soul lost in deep contemplation π its "existence having left marks through centuries" ` still a figure full of mystery' β
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[βοΈ π » ]
[ Delighted, I ]β¨ Bound by blood and secrets darker than the night itself. no one ever speaks of the past, not openly. Whispers linger in the hallways, softly echoing from behind locked doors, carrying tales of things no one dares to acknowledge. The children, pale and silent, are raised in the shadows of their ancestors, their eyes hollow from a life spent in the dim light of candlelit rooms, where shadows cling like old clothes. They never laugh, never play, only watch and listen, as if they too are waiting for something, or someone, to break the silence. ( π₯ )
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( YUMIKO MOORE CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[
Behind these walls, the family has always lived
[ Delighted, I ]
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( YUMIKO MOORE CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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Yumiko #AreSepyuKumikoAlive #EyesOnEvelisseUjinGracieJade
#NoGenreWithDodoKoAdhenKoKainaluKoJolKaleSeithRaelZavro
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γ
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€MANSION OF CALSEARTHγ
€π₯ The Family Exis in silence heavier. binding them to
γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €βοΈ γ
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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€( i ) A soul lost in deep contemplation π its "existence having left marks through centuries" ` still a figure full of mystery' β
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[βοΈ π » ]
[ Delighted, I ]β¨ Bound by blood and secrets darker than the night itself. no one ever speaks of the past, not openly. Whispers linger in the hallways, softly echoing from behind locked doors, carrying tales of things no one dares to acknowledge. The children, pale and silent, are raised in the shadows of their ancestors, their eyes hollow from a life spent in the dim light of candlelit rooms, where shadows cling like old clothes. They never laugh, never play, only watch and listen, as if they too are waiting for something, or someone, to break the silence. ( π₯ )
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( RALINE AMYHEART CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[
Behind these walls, the family has always lived
[ Delighted, I ]
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( RALINE AMYHEART CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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Elsbeth lin.
r.a βΒ· ornate β with stars in velvet night, where dreams arise.
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γ
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€π₯ The Family Exis in silence heavier. binding them to
γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €βοΈ γ
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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€( i ) A soul lost in deep contemplation π its "existence having left marks through centuries" ` still a figure full of mystery' β
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[βοΈ π » ]
[ Delighted, I ]β¨ Bound by blood and secrets darker than the night itself. no one ever speaks of the past, not openly. Whispers linger in the hallways, softly echoing from behind locked doors, carrying tales of things no one dares to acknowledge. The children, pale and silent, are raised in the shadows of their ancestors, their eyes hollow from a life spent in the dim light of candlelit rooms, where shadows cling like old clothes. They never laugh, never play, only watch and listen, as if they too are waiting for something, or someone, to break the silence. ( π₯ )
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( TELLY BLAISE CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[
Behind these walls, the family has always lived
[ Delighted, I ]
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( TELLY BLAISE CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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γ
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€MANSION OF CALSEARTHγ
€π₯ The Family Exis in silence heavier. binding them to
γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €βοΈ γ
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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€( i ) A soul lost in deep contemplation π its "existence having left marks through centuries" ` still a figure full of mystery' β
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[βοΈ π » ]
[ Delighted, I ]β¨ Bound by blood and secrets darker than the night itself. no one ever speaks of the past, not openly. Whispers linger in the hallways, softly echoing from behind locked doors, carrying tales of things no one dares to acknowledge. The children, pale and silent, are raised in the shadows of their ancestors, their eyes hollow from a life spent in the dim light of candlelit rooms, where shadows cling like old clothes. They never laugh, never play, only watch and listen, as if they too are waiting for something, or someone, to break the silence. ( π₯ )
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( SHELICA BLAIRY CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
ββ torn between a thirst for blood and a quest for β² redemption in a world that seems to no longer have a place for it. (...)
γ €γ €ββββββββββββββββββ β β β β β
[
Behind these walls, the family has always lived
[ Delighted, I ]
ββ½( ππ ..) This ability dazzles everything, making it whole, inevitable, and deeper with each passing moment, more tangible. Can this joy welcome a bond that has no equal, a connection that remains untouched by the duality of existence, pure and undivided, ( SHELICA BLAIRY CALSEARTH )γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
γ €γ €γ €γ €βat night, the house seemed to
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe weight of its memories, its
γ €γ €γ €γ €βin the darkness, as if they too
γ €γ €γ €γ €βreturn of whatever had been
γ €γ €γ €γ €βthe deep, forgotten spaces of
γ €γ €γ €γ €βpast the children would sleepγ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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γ €γ €γ €a fate that would release The familyβs bond
γ €γ €γ €was not made of love alone, but of something
γ €γ €γ €far more terrifying a pact made long ago.γ €
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