Skeletal remains of humanoids and Coursers alike are a common sight on the Moor, but you’ve stumbled upon a pair of them in a strange pose. The human’s arms are wrapped around the Courser’s skull, their foreheads touching one another. How does this strike you?

One word is on the lips of every spirit, two-legged or Courser, man or elf: Galatea. Galatea. Galatea. The Harvester is silent if queried on the matter. What do you make of this?

Exuperantia is not one to crave for the age of the steed. The name on everyone's lips should be her's.

Submitted By majmu
Submitted: 1 month ago ・ Last Updated: 1 month ago