Some of you ( those from the old days *grandma voice* ) might recall my old table shop from back in the day. Well, since I really like coding, I've decided to do something similar again.
This time, though, I'm not making a shop - this is just a little thing where you can occasionally request tables or where I will be posting gifts/free to use tables.

Requests are open!

1. free spot
2. free spot

Donations are welcome - but not needed; these are free requests!

Please fill out this form upon posting a request:

Code:

<b>Character</b>: Who is this table for?
<b>Theme</b>: Do you want it to be a "sad" table? Or something happy? Something with/without symbolism for your character? Feel free to add some of your ideas here/link to pictures or gifs that could be an inspiration for me when doing your table.
<b>Element</b>: What is the element of your character? Should it play a role in the design of your table?
<b>Images</b>: If you have an image already which you'd want me to put on your table, link it here! But please be aware that that will not always work out & I might not be able to use your image for the table.
<b>Other</b>: Questions or other details you want me to keep in mind go here!

Here is an example of what your table might look like.

Nyx Dawnwalker you can be something else,
something distant, sharp as the stars

Nyx Dawnwalker.

A grown Fallow Deer, once small, wearing her strengths hidden && her weaknesses open - is now a being of pride, all long legs, thin frame && her head held high. She's ready to face them again. It's been long enough.
Her eyes gleam like heated onyx as she steps onto the familiar plains of Polaris, standing strong && unafraid as she's waiting for her friends to come back. They must wonder about where she's been, naturally && finally she's ready to give them the answers they'll demand.

❛Hear me roar.❜

table by lisa

Finished req's!
Imperia
Cupid
Arkrael
Wynter
Kin-Kin

This table is free to use!
Please message me before changing anything besides fonts/colors!
Keep the credit on & please only use on this site!

Code:

<div align="center">
<div style="border: 1px solid #7E3337; width: 500px;  background: #000000 url('https://66.media.tumblr.com/099dbf0e1973398535fa0c1aa76a7749/tumblr_o0ahlyHqVc1ujcayko1_500.jpg') no-repeat top center; padding: 420px 0px 35px 0px; border-bottom-left-radius: 0px; border-bottom-right-radius: 0px"><font face="Times"><center><font face="agency FB"><font size="6"><font color="#7E3337">Name goes here.</font></font></font></center> <font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 9px #FFCCFF;color:#B65755; font-style: ; font-family:times; font-size: 14px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">Quote here.
</font></center>
<div style="width: 400px; background-color: #FFFFFF; padding: 15px; 15px; border: 1px solid #7E3337;  font-family: times; word-spacing: 3px; line-height: 12px; font-size: 11px; color: #42302b; text-align: justify;">

<font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 12px #FFCCFF;color:#B65755; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Stay here!"</font> to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

<font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 12px #FFCCFF;color:#B65755; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Ein Mannlein . . ."</font>

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

[align=center]<p>
<font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 12px #FFCCFF;color:#B65755; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Listen to me."</font>[/align]
</div></div><center><small>table by lisa</small></center>

Name goes here. Quote here.

"Stay here!" to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

"Ein Mannlein . . ."

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

"Listen to me."

table by lisa

Yoo like all of my characters except for Zev need a table but i just want to get one for Imperia for now

Character: Imperia
Theme: Hmm..Something like..idk, destruction? ahaidk
Element: Fire. And yes, i think it should o:
Images: No images~
Other: yoo this isnt very descriptive unfortunately welp

Boop de doop, may i take a request slot using this image?? :)

This table is for Imperia
Hope you like it!
Feel free to teak colors/fonts, contact me if you want to change something else.

Code:

<div align="center">
<div style="border: 1px solid #7E3337; width: 500px;  background: #202020 url('http://i.imgur.com/YcPX2J8.gif') no-repeat top center; padding: 450px 0px 35px 0px; border-bottom-left-radius: 0px; border-bottom-right-radius: 0px"><font face="Times"><center><font face="agency FB"><font size="6"><font color="#512f2f">Name goes here.</font></font></font></center> <font style="color:#BA6532; font-style: ; font-family:times; font-size: 14px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">Quote here.
</font></center>
<div style="width: 400px; background-color: #202020 ; padding: 15px; 15px; border: 1px solid #202020 ;  font-family: times; word-spacing: 3px; line-height: 12px; font-size: 11px; color: #512f2f; text-align: justify;">

<font style="color:#BA6532; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Stay here!"</font> to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

<font style="color:#BA6532; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Ein Mannlein . . ."</font>

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

[align=center]<p>
<font style="color:#BA6532; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Listen to me."</font>[/align]
</div></div><center><small>table by lisa</small></center>

Name goes here. Quote here.

"Stay here!" to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

"Ein Mannlein . . ."

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

"Listen to me."

table by lisa

@Imperia

Character: Arkrael
Theme: dark, madness, (she's currently being corrupted by tainted darkness given to her by clover so she's a bit crazy rigfht now?)
Element: earth. and it's up to you
Images:no image
Other: boop?

THIS IS PURely FOR ME To remember. I'll repost it or whatnot when they're actually open again.

This table is for Cupid
Hope you like it!
Feel free to teak colors/fonts, contact me if you want to change something else.

Code:

<div align="center">
<div style="border: 1px solid #7E3337; width: 500px;  background: #151a1d url('http://i.imgur.com/04hTWKR.jpg') no-repeat top center; padding: 300px 0px 35px 0px; border-bottom-left-radius: 0px; border-bottom-right-radius: 0px"><font face="Times"><center><font face="agency FB"><font size="6"><font color="#512f2f">Name goes here.</font></font></font></center> <font style="color:#965543; font-style: ; font-family:times; font-size: 14px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">Quote here.
</font></center>
<div style="width: 400px; background-color: #151a1d ; padding: 15px; 15px; border: 1px solid #151a1d ;  font-family: times; word-spacing: 3px; line-height: 12px; font-size: 11px; color: #512f2f; text-align: justify;">

<font style="color:#965543; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Stay here!"</font> to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

<font style="color:#965543; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Ein Mannlein . . ."</font>

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

[align=center]<p>
<font style="color:#965543; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Listen to me."</font>[/align]
</div></div><center><small>table by lisa</small></center>

Name goes here. Quote here.

"Stay here!" to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

"Ein Mannlein . . ."

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

"Listen to me."

table by lisa

@Cupid

Aaaah I love it so much!! Thank you ;o;

This table is for Arkrael
Hope you like it!
Feel free to teak colors/fonts, contact me if you want to change something else.

Code:

<div align="center">
<div style="border: 1px solid #7E3337; width: 500px;  background: #000000 url('https://38.media.tumblr.com/2e7b74cc55f9f34962ba3b5f83386275/tumblr_mvyt45BVYK1r0tytoo1_400.gif') no-repeat top center; padding: 400px 0px 35px 0px; border-bottom-left-radius: 0px; border-bottom-right-radius: 0px"><font face="Times"><center><font face="agency FB"><font size="6"><font color="#FFFFFF">Name goes here.</font></font></font></center> <font style="color:#660000; font-style: ; font-family:times; font-size: 14px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad
</font></center>
<div style="width: 400px; background-color: #000000; padding: 15px; 15px; border: 1px solid #000000;  font-family: times; word-spacing: 3px; line-height: 12px; font-size: 11px; color: #f2f2f2; text-align: justify;">

<font style="color:#990000; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Stay here!"</font> to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

<font style="color:#990000; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Ein Mannlein . . ."</font>

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

[align=center]<p>
<font style="color:#990000; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Listen to me."</font>[/align]
</div></div><center><small>table by lisa</small></center>

Name goes here. I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad

"Stay here!" to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

"Ein Mannlein . . ."

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

"Listen to me."

table by lisa

@Arkrael

This table is a gift for Arkrael
Hope you like it!
Feel free to teak colors/fonts, contact me if you want to change something else.

Code:

<div align="center">
<div style="border: 1px solid #1a1a1a; width: 500px;  background: #F8F8F8 url('http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcooc7pzDK1rn7m2g.gif') no-repeat top center; padding: 330px 0px 35px 0px; border-bottom-left-radius: 0px; border-bottom-right-radius: 0px"><font face="Times"><center><font face="agency FB"><font size="6"><font color="#7E3337">Name goes here.</font></font></font></center> <font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 9px #ff8080;color:#660000; font-style: ; font-family:times; font-size: 14px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">Quote goes here.
</font></center>
<div style="width: 400px; background-color: #1a1a1a; padding: 15px; 15px; border: 1px solid #1a1a1a;  font-family: times; word-spacing: 3px; line-height: 12px; font-size: 11px; color: #d9d9d9; text-align: justify;">

<font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 12px #ff8080;color:#990000; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Stay here!"</font> to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

<font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 12px #ff8080;color:#990000; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Ein Mannlein . . ."</font>

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

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<font style="text-shadow: 0px 0px 12px #ff8080;color:#990000; font-style: ; font-family:kunstler; font-size: 11px; line-height: 8px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">"Listen to me."</font>[/align]
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Name goes here. Quote goes here.

"Stay here!" to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

"Ein Mannlein . . ."

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

"Listen to me."

@Arkrael