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All i know is that she’s a Clean G5 Jag.
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She came with these markings:
Slot 2: Phantom Rosette (100%) Tier 5
Slot 3: Vitiligo 8 (27%) Tier 2
Slot 5: Cabochon Dinictis (20%) Tier 3
Slot 6: Seal Brindle (1%) Tier 2
Slot 7: White Limb
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𝗘𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗘𝗬𝗘.
Eilish was born on a windless night, when the stars sat heavy and silent above the plains. From her very first breath, the pride noticed something strange. One of her eyes gleamed a silver-blue—unmoving, misted like frozen water. A birth defect, the older lions said. A sign of weakness. But a wandering healer who once crossed their land whispered another truth.
"ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴄᴇꜱᴛᴏʀꜱ. ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ."
That whisper became legend, and legend became value.
By the time she was a yearling, Eilish had already drawn attention. Not for her hunting. Not for her strength. But for her eye. It made her rare. Exotic. Sacred, some said. Cursed, said others.
When she reached maturity, her own pride sold her. Not for food, or land, but for prestige. The Thornhide Pride, a rising group seeking recognition, took her in. They paraded her like a prize, but rarely let her speak. She was not a lioness to them, she was a relic. When the Thornhides fell to drought, she was traded again. And again. And again.
Years blurred. The Golden Thirst, the Cliffstep Pride, the Burned Crescent, the Oathclaws—each new home gave her a title. The Seer. The Oracle-Eye. The Ghost of the Plains.
𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗘𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵
She bore cubs for some prides, though never out of love. She defended her territory, though it was never her own. And through it all, her cloudy eye saw nothing yet it saw everything: the loneliness, the masks, the desperation in those who used her to claim favor from spirits they barely believed in.
Her fur dulled. Her steps slowed. She became less of a novelty. Other lions were born with strange marks, stranger eyes. Time was no longer on her side.
She was twelve when she was abandoned in the quiet hills near the savanna edge. No one came for her. She was too old to be traded, too tired to walk far. She lay beneath a fig tree, alone, ready for the world to forget her.
𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻’𝘁.
The Midnightmorner Pride found her, not searching, not hunting, just passing through. A young lioness approached her gently, eyes wide not with greed, but recognition.
"ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ," The lioness said "ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ."
Eilish was brought to their circle, not as a symbol, not as a legend, but as a lioness who had lived. They listened to her. The cubs curled beside her when she told stories. The hunters shared meat without question. No one ever asked for omens from her broken eye.
Here, her name mattered more than her defect.
𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗘𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗱.
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personal!
Ancestral Tree. 9GB
Rough Roots. 2-3GB
Phonolite Boulders. N/A
Willowmore Cedar. 9GB
Blooming Vine. 3GB
Yam. 3GB
Hanging Flora. 2GB
Total: N/A
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