In the center of a field of dead grass, in a universe far removed from any documented world, stands an old, slim tower; a testament to time. It is circular in shape, crafted by a master from stones of every size. Facing the four cardinal points around the tower's base are large, circular windows, open and flawlessly sculpted. Myriads of smaller windows spiral up the face of the tower, outlined by creeping ivy. The pinnacle of the tower is a solid roof, and at its very center perches a beautiful glass orb that, when catching the sunlight, looks as if it holds the entire ocean from within.

Have you been there before, guest? I have; I spent most of my natural life there. I am called by many names, but my original name is Cold Fire; Cofi for short. The better days of my youth were lived out in this tower, but that should all be told in due time. But for now, though, make yourself quite comfortable. There are many things I would like to share with you.

..:|: Statistics :|:..

:|:Likes:|: shadows travel her memory...

:|:Dislikes:|: strangers prejudice assumptions

:|:History:|:

Ah, my history. It's a long story that's still unravelling, but if you want to hear it, I will tell you ;3

I grew up in a land called Warta (or Varta/Warthe), depending on which tongue you speak. A beautiful land, with sloping, graceful rivers and blooming trees, and a glorious sky. I don't remember my parents, like most do; I grew up in an old church that served as an orphanage: St Molnar's. It was a towering cathedral that seemed to reach up to the clouds...until one summer.

I remember it well, as I was a young man. Almost 17 at the time, I was different from the others, for I never got myself into trouble. I stood alone, but it wasn't a choice. The other children knew that I was different; human instinct is strange. But they knew I could wield magic, and because it was condemned and looked down upon, they left me alone. You'll find I go off on these tangents for a reason, for magic is a key element, a key force in my story. That summer there was an uprising in the capital of Warta; Gyorgi. Radicals, magis, had been gaining power underground and were attempting to overthrow the monarchy. They burnt down half the city, and bombed buildings, including St Molnar's. I was there when the highest peak of the cathedral fell. I heard the metallic groans of the clock with its beautiful ebony face as it fell to the cobblestone streets below, at our feet. The nuns wept. It had been the day of my half birthday.

Over the next six months, the government enlisted commissions to clean up the streets of Warta and to assess the damage of the buildings and towns. St. Molnar's was not too far from repair, but we had no money. I turned 17, and received no presents. It was a difficult time, and people became skeptical. I stopped practicing magic, until I heard a name...

People in Warta had been trying to find a scapegoat for the bombings ever since the afternoon of the first attack, and I heard mention of a man who lived in the country side, a man like me who could wield magic and was unafraid of the government. They all seemed to believe that he had started it, but I believed that he was a great figure. He did not have to hide in the shadows of Warta in a small cathedral waiting for the day he could leave to start a new life.

When the nuns decided to have the children ask for donations, I was the first to volunteer.

As soon as I'd left St. Molnar's, everything was surreal and somehow...different. The sky was more blue, the grass was greener. The air was sweet. The countryside, so different from the streets of Warta, was like an open book. I set out to find this man of magic, only knowing his name...Ostonar.

Once I found him, Ostonar proved difficult to persuade, but he finally decided to take me as his only apprentice. After the bombings of Warta, people were especially reluctant to send their children away to magicians, and I had been his first student that summer. Until one evening, when we had a strange visitor at the door. She called herself Mahault. Ostonar taught us together, and I began to...feel..differently..around her. Every day, she seemed to brush against my thoughts, while I tried to evade her. Something about me, and my strong bond with Ostonar, told me not to trust her, but I did.

I do not know where this new road will take me, but I know that something is different now. Something will change in me.

And it is full of magic.

:|:Magick:|:

Yes, Magick. I use it and practice it. I know it well. With it, I could do things regular mortals dream of, but mostly for practical uses. Like fetching water for Ostonar, or freezing lakes, or flying. You know, everyday stuff like that ;3

:|:Family:|:

Haha, my family. Ahh, well. My biological family, my parents at least, are unknown. I grew up in an orphanage, if you recall, St. Molnar's. I made a family for myself the minute I met Ostonar. Here is a list of people in my life that I cherish.

List: Ostonar, Danovi, Mahault, Jiniri, Vemuerte, Mettelo, Mikaellen, Juleri, and she-who-shall-not-be-mentioned (shhhh).

:|:Project:|:

I am reluctant to speak of this, for I don't know what I am truly doing, or where it is headed, but I know that some kind of entity is trying to come alive through me. I want to give it a tangible existence, and as I get to know it better, I only want it to live.

Not even Ostonar has heard of this project, for I haven't told anyone in the Tower. Unless this thing within me ever comes to life, I will keep it a secret forever.

:|:Adoptables:|:

Thank you, everyone :333

:|:Trophies:|:

Here are some trophies that I've won from a few very generous humans:

:|:Owner:|:

Aside from creating me as her first pet ever since she joined neopets, Corgi's done a lot for me. When I was a virilent teenager full of raging hormones, she gave me my own space, even as I morphed from a 'jellyfish gelert' design, a lightning great dane, finally to my current day one. She gave me a history, a story, a voice. I thank her for that.

:|:Old Designs:|:

Here's where you can view my artistic history. The pictures go all the way back to 2003, if you can believe it ;3;

:|:Lyrics:|:
Franklin

And when we get home, I know we won't be home at all
This place we live, it is not where we belong
And I miss who we were in the town that we could call our own
Going back to get away after everything has changed

Could you remind me of a time when we were so alive
(Everything has changed)
Do you remember that? Do you remember that?
(Everything has changed)
Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind?
(Everything has changed)
Do you remember that? Do you remember that?

So we stand here now and no one knows us at all
I won't get used to this
I won't get used to being gone
And going back won't feel the same if we aren't staying
Going back to get away after everything has changed

Could you remind me of a time when we were so alive
(Everything has changed)
Do you remember that? Do you remember that?
(Everything has changed)
Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind?
(Everything has changed)
Do you remember that? Do you remember that?

Taking up our time
Taking up our time
Taking up our time
It's taking up our time
We can't go back, we can't go back at all
It's taking up our time
We can't go back, we can't go back at all
It's taking up our time
We can't go back, we can't go back at all
It's taking up our time, taking up our time

Could you remind me of a time when we were so alive
Do you remember that? Do you remember that?

:|:Links Out:|: