Convention booth prep is the most exhausting thing in my life, more so than signing hundreds of posters by hand which is also on the to-do list.
I am merely a typist, ready and able to fill a need in a storyline no matter how long or short. One post? One thousand posts? Somewhere in between? Whether male or female, good or evil, whatever species or genre. I'm there.
[About Me] After a rather long hiatus I'm back and ready to weave some intricate stories with others who have an affinity for creative detail and welcome fun twists out of the blue.
[What I'm looking for] I have no preference on genders for my partner, but I myself prefer to stick to males or the androgynous. A post a day, or every other, will do just fine, although I understand that life gets busy. Whether it's in DMs or a thread, let's go on an adventure. Give me some deliciously detailed paragraphs and I'll return the favor.
[Topics of Interest] -Cyberpunk [2020 or 2077] -Modern Fantasy -Future or Modern Dystopia -Medieval Fantasy -Royalty [Any Genre] -Warring Countries [Any Genre] -Romance [Any Genre] -Sci-fi
I'm open to other ideas as well, the above is just a short list of what I love. This isn't a fancy post, no need for extra fonts and long diatribes. Let's just tell a story together.
There was a lull in the conversation as Abel processed just what she was asking for. Small details? He could handle that. Personal bits? That would have to be pried out of him with a crowbar. Yet, the way she spoke to him probably didn't provoke the kind of reaction she expected. Rather, he relaxed quite a bit with a lopsided smile creeping up on his face which only grew more until finally a chuckle escaped him.
"By the gods," he let the laugh die but the smile remained, "I thought this conversation was going to go differently."
Not even Sloane had heard Abel say so many words consecutively much less hear a laugh out of him. The centaur behind the counter waved his hands at Alison, beckoning her to keep cracking the shell. It wasn't an impossible task, people just didn't know where to tap to start the fissures.
Starting to relax Abel picked up his drink, taking a sip of it before he went on. Maybe they were right, no one would remember me at all.
"The want to get to know someone does get personal, to a degree," Abel scratched at the scar on his face, done out of subconscious need than an actual irritant, "But I think I could oblige a few things. My favorite color is turqoise, my favorite drink is rum chata, and I have a calico cat named Felicity. She's old, fat, and a cuddle bug."
The details he was giving her didn't matter, they were pointless tidbits that didn't define who he actually was. Unless something really spoke to her about him having a cat, but he doubted it. WIth a rub to the back of his neck his smile turned sheepish, "Sorry about the comment earlier. Usually when people talk to me they're either telling me off or asking me what I want so I can get out of their hair faster."
It was then he realized he was all out of... Well he couldn't remember what he ordered, but it was gone so he had nothing to fiddle with now. The facade of confidence would fade soon if he didn't do something.
"I'll exchange a secret of mine for a secret of yours though," he said, flipping to the last page of his journal. Tipping it to where she couldn't see what he was writing he posed his question, "What is your deepest darkest fear?"
The pen was clicked, meeting the page as he wrote out something. It was six little words afterward he ripped the page out, folding it quickly into a little triangle with the end tucked in. If she answered him, even with a lie, he'd push it towards her to take. All the while, if and when she read it he'd simply just watch for her reaction.
Page after page had been filled, the ink covering the pages in both writing and drawings, not leaving unused surface before moving on to the next page. Sloane had tried to peek from time to time but it wasn’t long into Abel’s work was he leaned over the table, hunched over the journal. The coffee had only been sipped at here and there when he remembered it, most of the ice cubes having melted and watered down the drink but he didn’t seem to care.
The arrival made him jolt a bit, not having heard the woman at all until she spoke. Had he heard her enter the shop he would have made a mad dash out the door but he had been too enthralled in his work. Journal quickly closed he sat back in his seat, pen set to the side. There was an internal debate on whether he could just pack up and go, duck out the door and not come back for a week. Yet, her smile was disarming and her demeanor was rather pleasant, perhaps he was jump to conclusions too quickly.
“Uh… yeah, sure…” Abel stuttered, trying not to show just how panicked he actually was. Most people just left him be, others yelled at him to leave. Very few talked to him, even rarer was someone who actually wanted to have a conversation with him.
A hand waved to the place across from him, though the cuff on his wrist moved. Quick to place it back he folded his hands into his lap, a brief smile forming but it was obviously forced. She was pleasant enough though, and not too bad on the eyes, yet he seemed unnerved.
I am merely a typist, ready and able to fill a need in a storyline no matter how long or short.
One post? One thousand posts? Somewhere in between?
Whether male or female, good or evil, whatever species or genre.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I am merely a typist, ready and able to fill a need in a storyline no matter how long or short.<br>One post? One thousand posts? Somewhere in between?<br>Whether male or female, good or evil, whatever species or genre.<br>I'm there.</div>