*Words hurriedly scribble across the parchment, stuck on the
Message Board of the Naught for all to see*
A riddle of some sorts has been passed down. A figure in red had handed it to an older Caparii during a festival of Vermella, the goddess of Red just a moment ago.
I have quickly written a copy.
I have suspicions it is more important than being just a mere poem. Or riddle.
A Prophecy, perhaps?....
Between two pillars stand
A fertile ground and breathing land
Passion red
Love unsaid
Each will destroy the
Other, if they can.
She is of the Moon
Of the seeping Red
Known for Passion,
And not yet dead...
She is the Mother
Fruit to be borne
A master of charm.
Of wit, of scorn
On this Fated Day
Sown was the seed
For when They clash
Only One will leave.
- Author of Copied Parchment Unsigned
[All discussions of the poem should be In Character. Ooc thoughts always welcome]Message Board of the Naught for all to see*
A riddle of some sorts has been passed down. A figure in red had handed it to an older Caparii during a festival of Vermella, the goddess of Red just a moment ago.
I have quickly written a copy.
I have suspicions it is more important than being just a mere poem. Or riddle.
A Prophecy, perhaps?....
Between two pillars stand
A fertile ground and breathing land
Passion red
Love unsaid
Each will destroy the
Other, if they can.
She is of the Moon
Of the seeping Red
Known for Passion,
And not yet dead...
She is the Mother
Fruit to be borne
A master of charm.
Of wit, of scorn
On this Fated Day
Sown was the seed
For when They clash
Only One will leave.
- Author of Copied Parchment Unsigned