Tora Tokawaii~

I'll Eat You Alive~

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Hello~ Thanks for coming to take a peek at one of my cards <3 i love to gpose and im pretty social so feel free to walk up and chat with me! My other cardds are:(https://gunpowdergirl.carrd.co/) and (https://exoticqueen.carrd.co/) i will eventually add a /c for my hrothgal here but for now feel free to look up my name or miu's if your interested in that sorta stuff. (OH and im 27 irl for those would like to know)

"Ill make you into a happy little accident~"

Tora is a white-furred Hrothgar woman with an unsettling charm and a sly, knowing grin. Beneath her warm, inviting demeanor lies a twisted passion: a love for leading the unwary down dark, winding paths where shadows grow long and danger lurks unseen. She revels in crafting clever traps and weaving tales that lure her victims into situations of despair, watching with cold fascination as fear and confusion set in. Her brush is her weapon, her canvas a playground for the suffering she orchestrates. Tora's paintings capture the essence of anguish, every stroke a tribute to the torment she so skillfully creates, immortalizing the moment where hope turns to hopelessness.

Let Me Paint You A World In Ruins

In the remote mountains of Eorzea, where the air was thin and the skies were often shrouded in mist, there lived a Hrothgar woman named Tora. Her fur was as white as freshly fallen snow, a stark contrast to the world she chose to immerse herself in. Tora was known throughout the land not for her strength or battle prowess, but for her art—paintings that depicted scenes of desolation, ruin, and the haunting stillness that follows calamity.Her cottage, nestled at the edge of a cliff overlooking a once-great valley, was filled with canvases of various sizes. Each one told a different story, yet all shared a common theme: the aftermath of destruction. Charred forests, crumbling cities, and broken landscapes were her muse, rendered in such vivid detail that they seemed to bleed the sorrow and despair they captured.Tora’s love for painting morbid scenes began long ago, during a time when the land was ravaged by war. As a child, she witnessed the destruction of her homeland—a flourishing kingdom reduced to ashes in the blink of an eye. The once-lively streets were now silent, the laughter of children replaced by the mournful cries of those who had lost everything. It was in those bleak moments that Tora found solace in art. With a simple brush and some pigments, she began to recreate the scenes that haunted her dreams, as if capturing them on canvas would somehow contain the sorrow within her heart.As the years passed, Tora's art evolved, becoming more detailed and evocative. She no longer painted just the ruins themselves, but the stories behind them. A toppled statue of a forgotten king hinted at a once-proud lineage, now erased from history. A lone, wilted flower growing amidst the rubble symbolized a flicker of life in the shadow of death. Her paintings spoke of the fragile beauty that remained in a world devastated by ruin.Despite the grim nature of her work, Tora was not without admirers. Scholars, adventurers, and even other artists made the long journey to her mountain home to gaze upon her creations. They were drawn not just by the skill with which she painted, but by the raw emotion that emanated from each piece. Her art, though somber, was a reminder of the resilience of life and the inevitability of decay—a duality that resonated deeply with all who saw it.Yet, Tora remained solitary, finding comfort in her solitude and the quiet whispers of the wind as it blew through the valley. Her paintings were her companions, each one a piece of her soul laid bare for the world to see. In the silent moments of the night, she would stand before her easel, brush in hand, and lose herself in the act of creation. The world outside might have moved on, but within the walls of her cottage, time stood still.One day, as Tora was finishing a new painting—a bleak depiction of a ruined temple engulfed by a sea of fog—a visitor arrived at her door. It was an old man, his face lined with the marks of time, his eyes weary but kind. He introduced himself as a historian, one who had spent his life recording the events of the past, trying to make sense of the world’s endless cycle of creation and destruction."I’ve come to see your work," the historian said, his voice soft. "They say your paintings capture the soul of this land, the stories that words cannot tell."Tora welcomed him in, guiding him through her gallery of sorrowful masterpieces. The historian moved slowly from one canvas to the next, his gaze lingering on each one, as if he were reading the pages of an ancient, forgotten tome.Finally, he stopped before the painting of the ruined temple. "This one," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "It speaks of a loss far greater than what the eye can see. The kind of loss that lingers in the heart, long after the world has moved on."Tora nodded, understanding his words more deeply than he could know. "It’s not just the ruins that fascinate me," she replied. "It’s what they represent—the end of something that once was, and the beginning of what comes after. In destruction, there is a strange kind of beauty, a reminder that nothing lasts forever, and that in the ashes of the old, something new will always rise."The historian looked at her, his expression a mix of sadness and admiration. "You see the world with eyes that few possess, Tora. Your paintings are more than just images of ruin—they are echoes of the past, lessons for the future. They remind us that even in the darkest of times, there is a story to be told, a truth to be uncovered."Tora smiled faintly, her heart lightened by his words. "Perhaps that’s why I paint," she said. "To keep those stories alive, even when everything else has crumbled away."The historian nodded, and as he took his leave, he left behind a small book—a collection of his writings, chronicling the history of the land. "For your inspiration," he said before disappearing into the mist.Tora returned to her easel, the historian’s words echoing in her mind. She opened the book and began to read, finding within its pages the stories of the ruins she had painted, and those she had yet to create. And as she dipped her brush into the paint, she felt a renewed sense of purpose—a desire to continue capturing the beauty of the broken, the sorrow of the lost, and the hope that lingered, even in the aftermath of ruin.And so, in her mountain retreat, Tora continued to paint, her art a silent testament to the resilience of the world, and the enduring power of creation in the face of desolation.