#794182596740
Belongs to Neopolitan's Pride
(View Former Prides)

Solar Waltz

"by Cosmo Sheldrake"

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This lioness will come into heat in 6 days.
Lion Stats
Experience
0 / 100 (0%)
Level 1
Strength 23 Speed 21
Stamina 21 Smarts 33
Agility 19 Skill 1
Born With: Unknown Total Stats: 118
Lion Currents
Age 13 years, 6 months old
Hunger
20%
Mood
95%
Sex Female
Pose Default
Personality
Curious (Kind)

Adult Stage
Newborn Stage 100%
Young Cub Stage 100%
Cub Stage 100%
Adolescent Stage 100%
Adult Stage 88.461538461538%
Elder Stage 0%
Breeding Info
Father Feilong (Deceased) Mother (Chased) Cream✳Aqua✳3m (Deceased) View Full Heritage
Last Bred 23 days ago Fertility Very Low (5%) View All Cubs Bred (0)
Appearance Markings
Base Dark Vanilla (Fallow Skin) Slot 1: Brown Ringed (26%) Tier 1
Slot 2: Under Silky 1 (45%) Tier 0
Slot 3: Shell Cover (18%) Tier 0
Slot 4: Lilac Rogue (11%) Tier 2
Slot 8: Feline 4 Noctis (55%) Tier 2


This lion has 1 marking hidden on the following slot:
11
Genetics Cream Medium Countershaded Common
Eyes Blue
Mane Type Royal
Mane Color Elysian
Mutation Mane Silky
Marking Slots
10
Equipped Decorations
None!
Lifetime Hunting Results
Total Hunts 0 Successful Hunts 0 Success Rate 0%


Biography
Solar Waltz shook herself after a sudden rainfall, showering everyone nearby in droplets soaked up by all that fur.
Solar Waltz lies down in front of you with a concerned look on her face, wanting to know what you're thinking about.

-------
Well time, she did as time, she does
She passed along her way
And dawn she crept like a frightened girl
Out from the night-time's sway
But in the merry month of May
A solemn fast does lurk
For spring, it sprung as spring, it does
And put the bees to work
And work they must, and work they shall
For all the things to grow
For if they don't, as time, she knows
They'd wither on the bough
And what a shame such things would be
No wondrous wine for you and me
No cider too, nor mead nor soup
For us to all make merry
So rot, ferment and decompose
So all the things can grow
Or wallow in a drinkless world
And wither on the bough
Oh, what a dusty burden
That nectar and that pollen
Like Atlas with the heavens
On the back of his head
What if they should falter
And shrug their little shoulders?
Well, time, she'd pass all the same





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