@Polyphemus I wonder how Death might react to the Phoenix....
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 125 (0.04 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Pietra 9 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
mathematicalmusical.tumblr.c..
9 yrs ago
The word nun looks like an n doing a backflip
1
like
9 yrs ago
So sick of the disrespect people have for the people who protect our country... just because there are a few corrupt names does not mean that the entirety of the force is full of bumbling fools.
9 yrs ago
Who wants to see a youtube miniseries, a modernization of Le Fantome de l'Opera that takes place in an all-girls' conservatory?
9 yrs ago
Sleep is like a cat, it only comes to you if you ignore it.
1
like
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Has anyone heard anything from @Dirty Dan? I can't seem to get ahold of him, and I'm trying to set up an interaction between our characters.
"I'm afraid my story isn't very..."
She trailed off, not wanting to admit that her life minus her royal activities had been boring. Upon receiving the question, Elya felt embarrassment more than anything. Her titles were impressive, but they had also been constraints- she had never gone far from her home, the capitol. To tell this farmboy that he was more worldly than a princess would be humiliating, and humanizing, and so, Elya opted for a lie instead. A half-lie, really. Rather than simply speaking her own boring life, she told her mother's story, which to her was far more interesting. For some odd reason, Elya felt she needed to impress the lot, even though there was no present need for her to do so. Loosening her grip on the reins, a broad smile came to her face, as she thought of her mother. In her mind's eye, she saw the pin in the semblance of a sword her mother wore at her breast, the rose-colored wine she drank each evening, the small garden she kept in the balcony outside of her chambers. Elya wondered where the woman was.
"Alright. I was born in a western area of Edessa, actually. Mihtmód, you know, where the Lord Bryne and his family reside. My parents were both gardeners, working in their household. When I was seven, my elder brother was taken to the capitol, to find work. I begged my parents to let me follow, and when I was twelve or so, my mother and I finally journeyed to Arrvern. I lived with my brother for a year, before I was old enough to- to work. I then moved into the castle, and I've worked for the last few years as a scullery maid."
Elya coughed, and shook her head. A silly thought crossed her mind, which quickly turned dismal. The rose garden, back at the castle, with its varied colors and worms in the dirt, would no doubt wilt and die without anyone to tend to the flowers. The gardeners had all left at least a week ago, and her mother as well. None of the few who remained would pay much heed to dying flora. The garden outside of the castle walls would flourish without the trimmings once a week, if only with weeds, unless it was trampled. Though she loved her mother's garden, Elya never quite had any skill as a gardener. That hereditary trait seemed not to have passed down to the princess, as any plant she tended to died within a week, due to her lack of consistent care for any life other than her horses. Maintaining such a vast beauty was as difficult as maintaining a smile on Elya's face, yet she carefully kept up the corners of her mouth, trying not to show her sadness. The road ahead would no doubt show new plants, new pretty things for her to consider.
Glancing at the earth below, she wondered if the north was a hospitable place for roses, if the land was fertile enough to grow a garden. There was no doubt in her mind her mother would go mad without one. Elya looked back over at Dalsarad, and her shoulders sagged. Carefully, she planned her next question in such a way that it could not be reflected back to her, as she did not wish to be forced to weave a tale too complex to remember.
"Are you planning on becoming a farmhand, then, once we reach the north? Or are you going to pursue something else? Is the earth there very hospitable towards the crops you've tended to here? Sorry if I seem ignorant, I am unaware of the customs of farmers."
Despite her disinterest in the affairs of commoners as a whole, as coopers and butchers and stonemasons all seemed the same in Elya's eyes, the stories and lives of individuals did intrigue her. Now that she could speak to them as an equal, she realized they might feel more open to revealing themselves. Her eyes were focused on his mouth, wondering why anyone would chew on a weed. There was some plant grown in the lower parts of the city that the men chewed on for fun, but such things were banned within the castle walls, and they usually smelled bad as well. There were diseases on such things, which led to ungodly hallucinations, the thought of which made Elya rather uncomfortable.
"Is that grass you're chewing a custom of yours as well, or is that just a personal habit?"
Even if the man was strange, and his practices foreign, Elya aimed to befriend him. Anyone, in fact, on this caravan, might be an important ally in the weeks to come, against whatever odds they might face. The months, maybe, should the gods bring down awful weather upon them.
She trailed off, not wanting to admit that her life minus her royal activities had been boring. Upon receiving the question, Elya felt embarrassment more than anything. Her titles were impressive, but they had also been constraints- she had never gone far from her home, the capitol. To tell this farmboy that he was more worldly than a princess would be humiliating, and humanizing, and so, Elya opted for a lie instead. A half-lie, really. Rather than simply speaking her own boring life, she told her mother's story, which to her was far more interesting. For some odd reason, Elya felt she needed to impress the lot, even though there was no present need for her to do so. Loosening her grip on the reins, a broad smile came to her face, as she thought of her mother. In her mind's eye, she saw the pin in the semblance of a sword her mother wore at her breast, the rose-colored wine she drank each evening, the small garden she kept in the balcony outside of her chambers. Elya wondered where the woman was.
"Alright. I was born in a western area of Edessa, actually. Mihtmód, you know, where the Lord Bryne and his family reside. My parents were both gardeners, working in their household. When I was seven, my elder brother was taken to the capitol, to find work. I begged my parents to let me follow, and when I was twelve or so, my mother and I finally journeyed to Arrvern. I lived with my brother for a year, before I was old enough to- to work. I then moved into the castle, and I've worked for the last few years as a scullery maid."
Elya coughed, and shook her head. A silly thought crossed her mind, which quickly turned dismal. The rose garden, back at the castle, with its varied colors and worms in the dirt, would no doubt wilt and die without anyone to tend to the flowers. The gardeners had all left at least a week ago, and her mother as well. None of the few who remained would pay much heed to dying flora. The garden outside of the castle walls would flourish without the trimmings once a week, if only with weeds, unless it was trampled. Though she loved her mother's garden, Elya never quite had any skill as a gardener. That hereditary trait seemed not to have passed down to the princess, as any plant she tended to died within a week, due to her lack of consistent care for any life other than her horses. Maintaining such a vast beauty was as difficult as maintaining a smile on Elya's face, yet she carefully kept up the corners of her mouth, trying not to show her sadness. The road ahead would no doubt show new plants, new pretty things for her to consider.
Glancing at the earth below, she wondered if the north was a hospitable place for roses, if the land was fertile enough to grow a garden. There was no doubt in her mind her mother would go mad without one. Elya looked back over at Dalsarad, and her shoulders sagged. Carefully, she planned her next question in such a way that it could not be reflected back to her, as she did not wish to be forced to weave a tale too complex to remember.
"Are you planning on becoming a farmhand, then, once we reach the north? Or are you going to pursue something else? Is the earth there very hospitable towards the crops you've tended to here? Sorry if I seem ignorant, I am unaware of the customs of farmers."
Despite her disinterest in the affairs of commoners as a whole, as coopers and butchers and stonemasons all seemed the same in Elya's eyes, the stories and lives of individuals did intrigue her. Now that she could speak to them as an equal, she realized they might feel more open to revealing themselves. Her eyes were focused on his mouth, wondering why anyone would chew on a weed. There was some plant grown in the lower parts of the city that the men chewed on for fun, but such things were banned within the castle walls, and they usually smelled bad as well. There were diseases on such things, which led to ungodly hallucinations, the thought of which made Elya rather uncomfortable.
"Is that grass you're chewing a custom of yours as well, or is that just a personal habit?"
Even if the man was strange, and his practices foreign, Elya aimed to befriend him. Anyone, in fact, on this caravan, might be an important ally in the weeks to come, against whatever odds they might face. The months, maybe, should the gods bring down awful weather upon them.
In her homely, lonely apartment, Zarqa Nadir was sipping tea. She wore a long black dress, covering her crossed legs, and her long arms, draping over her hands, even the one gripping the mug of tea. Her hijab was discarded on the table beside her, folded loosely in a neat pile. Her eyes shut, a frown rested on her face; the hair which framed it was curly and unkempt, in a massive mess around her head. Having spent the last few hours surveilling the city, she saw as unfamiliar heroes took down villains, using methods with which she was unfamiliar. None seemed too used to the Cleveland area, though- none were appropriate as a teammate. Opening her eyes, she stood, and walked over to her kitchen.
#Pokerface #GavinHardesty
Nearly dropping her mug, she bit her lip, shaking her head. Of course there was corruption in the law offices, why not? With a scoff, she washed the mug, scanning social media sites for any news. Coming up with nothing new, and nothing relevant, she turned her attention back to the security cameras around the city. On a hunch, she looked around at the major banks, as those were often targets during outbreaks like this. Spending a few seconds on each one, she rotated between each branch quickly, trying to determine if any threats were present.
Returning to her bedroom, she adorned a light blue dress. From her dresser, she withdrew a matching hijab, white with blue flowers embroidered over the fabric. Wrapping it over her head, she averted her eyes away from the reflection in the mirror, hustling over to her door. Any more time spent in her apartment, cooped up in her own head, would drive her mad.
#Pokerface #GavinHardesty
Nearly dropping her mug, she bit her lip, shaking her head. Of course there was corruption in the law offices, why not? With a scoff, she washed the mug, scanning social media sites for any news. Coming up with nothing new, and nothing relevant, she turned her attention back to the security cameras around the city. On a hunch, she looked around at the major banks, as those were often targets during outbreaks like this. Spending a few seconds on each one, she rotated between each branch quickly, trying to determine if any threats were present.
Returning to her bedroom, she adorned a light blue dress. From her dresser, she withdrew a matching hijab, white with blue flowers embroidered over the fabric. Wrapping it over her head, she averted her eyes away from the reflection in the mirror, hustling over to her door. Any more time spent in her apartment, cooped up in her own head, would drive her mad.
Vivid, I want my character to be the odd one out, without alliances. Makes it more fun for me. While you guys are doing all that, my character will be journeying to the Eastern Air Temple, then when the comet comes, she will redirect her search to one of the safety areas, not knowing that it's fake.
I'd like my character to be the last to join the group, if that's okay! I think it would make sense for mine to be last, as she's not a bending master and therefore wouldn't likely seek a partnership with other benders unless absolutely necessary. And plus, it would take her a long time to track down the avatar alone.
Working on a post now... I wrote one up, and then my laptop ran out of battery.
I'm waiting for @Dirty Dan to respond to a PM about a possible meetup between our characters, and before he does, I can't do much.
Still waiting on that message...
As they began moving at the command of the older man, Elya realized he must be the guard assigned to protect her. Much to her chagrin, the specified knight was not one of her favorites, as he was such an odd and gruff man. The sight of him brought a slight pout to her face, as she cast her gaze downward, to look at the worn leather saddle on which she sat. Odran was a very protective man, a very loyal man, but a very tiring man to be around for more than a few minutes at a time.
Giving Nimerya a soft nudge, the horse began to move, matching the pace of the rest of the caravan easily. Elya did not respond to either for a moment, trying to formulate a set of responses to both the farmboy and the southerner. After a bit of thought, she finally spoke, first addressing Mhairi. Her voice was soft and slow, as if she was building the sentence around and after each individual word- an architect with an obsession for perfectionism, despite the fact that she was unable to actually form a decent sentence.
"Yes, I- I'm from here. Edessan, yeah. Lea."
Trying to emulate their more casual speech patterns, she turned to her other side to glance back at Dalsarad. The pout on her face turned to a soft smile, though she did not quite meet his eyes, as if shy.
"Just Lea. I..."
Thoughts ran through her head, wondering what to say to the man. Boy? She could not decide- he was clearly a youth, but not a child, nor an adult, otherwise he would be off fighting. He seemed honest enough, but she never could tell with common folk, where their true intentions lay. She could not be honest to him, that was for sure, but she could not say nothing in response, for fear of inspiring further curiosity and therefore additional interrogation. Elya realized she had been silent for a moment too long, so she suddenly spoke, as if accidentally letting the words vomit out of her mouth.
"I'm just going to miss it here. I said a lot of- a lot of goodbyes today, and I'm afraid it's the last time I'll... You know."
Elya felt her smile trembling, so she relaxed the edges of her mouth into a more neutral expression. She looked up, straight ahead, at the rest of the caravan. Horses and carriages, adults and children alike, walked ahead of their little group in lines and clusters, disappearing into nothingness along the horizon. They seemed to her almost an illusion, a mirage- the last time she had seen so many people in the same place was several years ago, at the wedding of a great lord to the daughter of another. Citizens of noble and common birth both wandered ahead, seeking refuge in the same place, and that was both odd and amazing. The groups of people, clumped together in familiar sections, seemed to blur together like an artist's paint.
After a moment, she realized that the blurs were due to the tears welling up in her eyes. Nothing had yet fallen, so she tilted her head backwards a bit, and stared up at the sky. Once her eyes cleared, she managed a smile again, and looked ahead of herself again, to guide Nimerya a bit more accurately.
"So, where are you from, farmboy? What region?"
Giving Nimerya a soft nudge, the horse began to move, matching the pace of the rest of the caravan easily. Elya did not respond to either for a moment, trying to formulate a set of responses to both the farmboy and the southerner. After a bit of thought, she finally spoke, first addressing Mhairi. Her voice was soft and slow, as if she was building the sentence around and after each individual word- an architect with an obsession for perfectionism, despite the fact that she was unable to actually form a decent sentence.
"Yes, I- I'm from here. Edessan, yeah. Lea."
Trying to emulate their more casual speech patterns, she turned to her other side to glance back at Dalsarad. The pout on her face turned to a soft smile, though she did not quite meet his eyes, as if shy.
"Just Lea. I..."
Thoughts ran through her head, wondering what to say to the man. Boy? She could not decide- he was clearly a youth, but not a child, nor an adult, otherwise he would be off fighting. He seemed honest enough, but she never could tell with common folk, where their true intentions lay. She could not be honest to him, that was for sure, but she could not say nothing in response, for fear of inspiring further curiosity and therefore additional interrogation. Elya realized she had been silent for a moment too long, so she suddenly spoke, as if accidentally letting the words vomit out of her mouth.
"I'm just going to miss it here. I said a lot of- a lot of goodbyes today, and I'm afraid it's the last time I'll... You know."
Elya felt her smile trembling, so she relaxed the edges of her mouth into a more neutral expression. She looked up, straight ahead, at the rest of the caravan. Horses and carriages, adults and children alike, walked ahead of their little group in lines and clusters, disappearing into nothingness along the horizon. They seemed to her almost an illusion, a mirage- the last time she had seen so many people in the same place was several years ago, at the wedding of a great lord to the daughter of another. Citizens of noble and common birth both wandered ahead, seeking refuge in the same place, and that was both odd and amazing. The groups of people, clumped together in familiar sections, seemed to blur together like an artist's paint.
After a moment, she realized that the blurs were due to the tears welling up in her eyes. Nothing had yet fallen, so she tilted her head backwards a bit, and stared up at the sky. Once her eyes cleared, she managed a smile again, and looked ahead of herself again, to guide Nimerya a bit more accurately.
"So, where are you from, farmboy? What region?"
© 2007-2024