<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Scheherazade&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.elk_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:598px;background:#dfdfdf;background-image: url("https://66.media.tumblr.com/d80df95c21e1ba815a070cd4d8132a16/3d388bbe46fa7476-83/s640x960/f500bb69aec8c6dc72d4318f182edfba59f03f26.png");border:1px solid #000000;}.elk_container p{margin:0;}.elk_image{position:relative;z-index:4;margin-bottom:0px;border-radius: 0 0 0 0;}.elk_message{position:relative;z-index:10;width:540px;background:#3d383b;opacity:95%;text-align:justify;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;padding:10px;color:black;letter-spacing:0.5px;border:1px solid #142020; border-width: 1px 1px 1px;box-shadow:0px 0px 0px 0px rgb(61,56,59,0.7);top:-50px;}.elk_name{position:absolute;z-index:15;text-align:center;color:#d4cace;text-shadow:10px 10px 10px #282c1b;opacity:70%;letter-spacing:50px;font-family: 'Scheherazade', serif;font-size:90px;bottom:-60px;left:360px;padding:0px;}.elk_title{position:absolute;z-index:20;text-align:center;color:#d4cace;letter-spacing:0px;font-family: 'Scheherazade', serif;font-size:21px;opacity:70%;text-shadow:0 0 10px gray;top:360px;left:5px;padding:10px;}</style><center><div class="elk_container"><img class="elk_image" src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/a71e035aa92d926525381896dcbd7615/3d388bbe46fa7476-7f/s640x960/c36d2e3d0a592c9c7dfe262796dde1902f6d6364.png"><div class="elk_message">She is alone.
A her breath is clotted into frosty manifestations in front of her. In and out. In and out. Steady. The air here is different and it buzzes with static. She moves slowly, navigating, picking her way over broken rocks. She knows this place...it is covered in the silvery-white sheen from a pregnant moon. She is a vagabond, a drifter. Beqanna enjoys toying with it's residents so for her to wake here is not a shock to her tremulous life...in fact she welcomed change into her harmless existence. She could be more than a meek and mild face...
Ahead are two softly vibrating monoliths. A black stand aside a green and they attract her like a moth to the flame...small steps tenderly pulling the mare closer...her bright green eyes unable to pull away. The air is growing into winds that usher and whisper her to come closer. She can taste the copper tang of blood in it's depths and it is frightening but she is powerless.
The structures are etched in recognizable markings. Various onyx is adorned with many, many types of horns whilst the other is covered in wings...she gravitates towards the black with wide eyes so trusting as she soon presses her lips to the stone...
A sweet pain rings her head wildly, setting her teeth to a grit as the bay mare moans in pain. A jut of bone tears through her skull...elk antlers spouting where there had never been any before! She stumbles drunkenly to the side, weakness seizing her joints. What was happening? The weight of her new crown drives her head downward as she fights to remain stable. Blood is in the air and it is maddening. With this new set of antlers...in the Plains...was there to be a test? Elk shivers in the wake of this new thought.
</div><div class="elk_title">OUR BACKS TELL STORIES NO BOOKS HAVE THE SPINE TO CARRY</div><div class="elk_name">ELK</div></div></center>
Straight to the point. >.< Elk got (shocker here) elk antlers! She has no tie to any lands.
A her breath is clotted into frosty manifestations in front of her. In and out. In and out. Steady. The air here is different and it buzzes with static. She moves slowly, navigating, picking her way over broken rocks. She knows this place...it is covered in the silvery-white sheen from a pregnant moon. She is a vagabond, a drifter. Beqanna enjoys toying with it's residents so for her to wake here is not a shock to her tremulous life...in fact she welcomed change into her harmless existence. She could be more than a meek and mild face...
Ahead are two softly vibrating monoliths. A black stand aside a green and they attract her like a moth to the flame...small steps tenderly pulling the mare closer...her bright green eyes unable to pull away. The air is growing into winds that usher and whisper her to come closer. She can taste the copper tang of blood in it's depths and it is frightening but she is powerless.
The structures are etched in recognizable markings. Various onyx is adorned with many, many types of horns whilst the other is covered in wings...she gravitates towards the black with wide eyes so trusting as she soon presses her lips to the stone...
A sweet pain rings her head wildly, setting her teeth to a grit as the bay mare moans in pain. A jut of bone tears through her skull...elk antlers spouting where there had never been any before! She stumbles drunkenly to the side, weakness seizing her joints. What was happening? The weight of her new crown drives her head downward as she fights to remain stable. Blood is in the air and it is maddening. With this new set of antlers...in the Plains...was there to be a test? Elk shivers in the wake of this new thought.
</div><div class="elk_title">OUR BACKS TELL STORIES NO BOOKS HAVE THE SPINE TO CARRY</div><div class="elk_name">ELK</div></div></center>
Straight to the point. >.< Elk got (shocker here) elk antlers! She has no tie to any lands.