» under construction «

» accepting all friend requests «
(and I try to return all congratulations where I can)

» semi-competitive | casual collector | sucker for a good affix «

currently focused on -- rebuilding Tᖾᥱ ᥴᥲ⳽ᥴᥲᑯᥱ⳽

» buying «

iso of the following RCs -- please DM me if you have any you would be willing to sell



» selling «

currently in the process of cleaning up my account a little bit, so feel free to make an offer on any of my horses -- of course not all of them will be for sale, but it can't hurt to ask :)

 » Tᖾᥱ ᥴᥲ⳽ᥴᥲᑯᥱ⳽ «
former #1 Brumby team looking to get back in the game

* super cute brumbies
* no mins
* pass payout -- 10p a blup

The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witch-like cry; and this cry was echoed by another. “Hi!” it said. “Wait a minute!” The undergrowth at the side of the scar was shaken and a multitude of raindrops fell pattering. “Wait a minute,” the voice said. “I got caught up.” The fair boy stopped and jerked his stockings with an automatic gesture that made the jungle seem for a moment like the Home Counties. The voice spoke again. “I can’t hardly move with all these creeper things.” The owner of the voice came backing out of the undergrowth so that twigs scratched on a greasy wind-breaker. The naked crooks of his knees were plump, caught and scratched by thorns. He bent down, removed the thorns carefully, and turned around. He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat. He came forward, searching out safe lodgments for his feet, and then looked up through thick spectacles.