The Goddess of Death [Plush TF] by EllensToybox, literature
Literature
The Goddess of Death [Plush TF]
The Goddess of Death [Plush TF] Written by EllensToybox “Dekopon! Dekopon! Dekopon!” Exhilarated chanting filled the ears of all those present. Excited grins hid behind the hundred or so black masks circling the pentagram, dim candle light being the only indication that anything actually existed in this hall. Dried blood was sprawled across the walls, drawn into unusual shapes and foreign letters. Every tiny stroke depicted one unified message. “Dekopon!” When the clock struck the hour, another source of light rose up in the room, emanating from the altar at the front of the hall. With flames reflected in her wide-framed glasses, a silent woman marched into view, her gaze fixed upon the chanting crowd. Adorned in plain, bluish-gray robes and neon green hair, the woman turned to the tabernacle behind her and pulled out a rusty dagger. It was etched in ancient runes, far preceding the lives of the tiny mortals who admired its grace. The tip of the dagger was drenched in
The Goddess of Death [Plush TF] by EllensToybox, literature
Literature
The Goddess of Death [Plush TF]
The Goddess of Death [Plush TF] Written by EllensToybox “Dekopon! Dekopon! Dekopon!” Exhilarated chanting filled the ears of all those present. Excited grins hid behind the hundred or so black masks circling the pentagram, dim candle light being the only indication that anything actually existed in this hall. Dried blood was sprawled across the walls, drawn into unusual shapes and foreign letters. Every tiny stroke depicted one unified message. “Dekopon!” When the clock struck the hour, another source of light rose up in the room, emanating from the altar at the front of the hall. With flames reflected in her wide-framed glasses, a silent woman marched into view, her gaze fixed upon the chanting crowd. Adorned in plain, bluish-gray robes and neon green hair, the woman turned to the tabernacle behind her and pulled out a rusty dagger. It was etched in ancient runes, far preceding the lives of the tiny mortals who admired its grace. The tip of the dagger was drenched in