ClosetMonster

Light in the Dark

Hap's ears twitched and it's nose crinkled in frustration. The moment remained quiet and comfortable, and suddenly it was as if their worlds had laid one upon the other, without touching in anything but words. The troll's concept of mother, of shining, what he had been doing, they crinkled and rolled with unspoken meaning. For Hap, where most worlds were far apart from its small Lighthouse, the sensation was both uncommon and expected. Still, there was little reason to like it.

“There is only one thing shining here, and that is the sun,” Hap nodded obliquely toward the grate through which some of the light from the great middle of the land flared and warmed the whole of the Light Keeper's home. “Is that what you mean? This Mother you speak of?”

Tail curled around one slender ankle, the Keeper's task halted and it lay the great netting upon its lap. Like an old woman with knitting, it dropped its chin and blinked large eyes at the great form on its floor. “I do not understand,” it said baldly, “what you mean.”

Outside, the lights in the darkness of the star filled void, slid, snake-like and cold across the blackness. Below, a much greater light spread warmth away from the Reaches and the great cup of earth nestled its power as snug as a mouse in a hole. There was little to offer the troll outside of food, quiet, and a room to settle into as a feather into down. Hap's estimation of the entire situation was such that the troll was in dire need of settling much like the dogs did, after a long run. But then, Hap had broken the quiet and with a miniature huff of breath through slender nostrils, the Keeper leaned forward at a slight incline and fixed its eyes more firmly upon the troll.

The Highwayman Came Riding

Bess drew back and clutched at her skirts when he released her. She panted, attempting to gain her breath back, and glared at him. He, despite her glare, he seemed comfortable enough to simply lay back and look at her with a smile on his face. His teeth were white, she noted. He was no peasant, that much was plain.

Death? His? Her eyes widened. He'd reminded her that yes, all of the embarrassment had had a cause behind it. She'd actually given her leave to treat her that way, in a manner of speaking, for she hadn't asked him to tickle her. But had he not?

“No,” she stood, her lips pressed firmly together as she brushed out her clothing and went to pick at a leaf which she could see clung to her hair. “No reward, sir. Just that you don' not e'er speak o' this.”

She took a step away from him, mindful of keeping her eyes on him as she did so. He did not seem dangerous and he had, as promised, done nothing more than what was necessary to keep his head. Still, she was not about to trust anyone so handsome as he with the ease of knowing herself.

“'Sides,” she scoffed, “who are ya ter promise gold and jewels? You were running fer your life. I'd bet m' hat, if I had one, on yer inability to give more'n your word away. You look like yeh'd be lucky to keep th' shirt on your back.” He hadn't a pack really, nor horse, nor any visible source of more. And he was definitely not from the town as she'd known him.

She did not know his face, that much was true. Backing away from him as he lazed, looking more forest god than man, despite the lack of shadow with the sun having risen and the world about them turning golden, Bess felt something inside of her yearn for the promise of adventure he seemed to exude. Here was her path away from the drudgery, if only she were willing to take it. Ah! But to take such a chance! She was no lad, like her brothers, who might have an adventure or two and be none the worse for it. No – for her, a misstep could ruin her for forever. She was not so foolish as to rush into any promise of more. She'd have long ago lost her innocence to a bit of gold braid or velvet twist if she were so easily won.

Instead, she stomped her foot and frowned at him. His grin made her back come up. “Why, you're worse than m' brothers. You've got y'self inta a world o' trouble hain't ya? An' no way out, I think.” Crossing her arms across her chest, she glowered at him once more and made no move to leave. “Well, don' be askin' for more from me, I'll say. I can see trouble writ all 'cross yer face, I can.”

Casual a purer RP than Advanced?

Ellri said
The "purity" of an RP doesn't hinge on the post length or even perfection of the language. It hinges on how well the players mesh. If the players work well together and can adapt to each other easily, then the RP will usually end up being an enjoyable story, no matter about the factors like language, post length or such.Some players are more suited to advanced, while others prefer casual. And of course there's those that like them both.

I have to agree - it's such a personal choice. Like, if you like Rowlings or Gaiman, Melville or Hemmingway, Wynne Jones or Modesett Jr. We gravitate toward those who write in a manner compatible with our own style of sentence, vocab, story, character. That said - I've still had someone I love to write with, make up a character who just doesn't like/get along with/mesh with a character I've created. Sometimes, it's the lack of "spark" as well, that can kill a story, no matter how many lines you type.

As for Adv/Cas/even Free - back when I had time to join group RPs, I looked for the depth of world development as well as the possible co-players who cropped up, and most definitely the GM's pattern of story construction-direction. Much in the way I look at singles for a two person RP now, I tried my best to gauge if the story was going to fit me. If I have a sense of what works with me and what does not, then I can find the story I will work within best, ensuring a greater likelihood that all will be well in the end. Ya ain't got that Chemistry? Nothing is going to drive that bus to its final destination.

Looking for a few good... amoeba moosen. (g'on, ignore post count, eh?)

Bumpin' up 'cause I could take another story, if'n someone's got something fun! :)

The Highwayman Came Riding

I do understand interesting, so please do not worry yourself. :) Take all the time you need. Besides that, I didn't give you much to work with on that post. It's more filler and less direction, which I'm sorry for. I didn't feel right to do more at this early stage in the game.

As for the theater. I did, however it took me some time to discover it was the radio show and not the physical theater. heh. I've set it to listen to as soon as I've time to do so. I'm looking forward to it!!!

Peregrine [Closet & Glaw]

Zahi leaned lightly upon his mare's withers, his hand tight in her mane so that his knuckles clenched white. Still, despite the pain in his belly and the dizzy sense of balance in his head, he padded sure alongside her as she minced delicately beside the man who is not djinn. The throne-like chair's lack seemed to disturb some of the women and more than one might have clucked her tongue, had she been of Zahi's tribe. Their looks said enough, though they did nothing to stop the progress of the two men and the mare.

That the man wished to see the prince's land puzzled Zahi a moment. He had assumed that his host was from the sands themselves, or knew of them so thoroughly that there was no need for introduction. He watched as the man navigated around the children and then directed the three of them toward the still propped open doorway.

Anat, for a brief moment, fought the idea of entering into the dark, other-scented place. Zahi's hand at her side settled her and he murmured endearments to her, praise of her courage and beauty, and without another complaint, then had gone through.

Within, the dark took a moment to coalesce into more than planes of grey lit by green. The vines and delicate stems, leaves of the plants which grew upon the walls became clear, each one gently gleaming from within. Along the edge of a wall, an alcove sat with a box shining with gem-lights. All about them, a sense of thrumming deep below sound filled the prince's bones and he flared his nostrils much in the same way as his horse may have, had she felt alarm.

The door closed behind, Zahi took in a breath of uncertainty mixed with relief. “My thanks, Dorian Foster,” he gave a careful bow of his head toward the man who is not djinn. “I do not know this place any better, but it is a comfort to leave the place of children and women. Your kind is strange to allow men healing in such a place. You trust your women's safety to the nearness of strangers. I assume only that you have powers which mean you need not fear from anyone.”

He followed as the man who is not djinn led he and his mare carefully from the wide hall toward another archway and through. There was a susurration much like sand broken free and spilling down the side of a dune in the silence of a night, or a snake's skin upon a well woven tapestry. Zahi could find no source and therefore, allowed that it was as much a part of the place they were, as the white and the corners were in the last lands that the man who is not djinn had taken them.

Stepping through the wide room beyond, Zahi blinked at the glow of lights all about, like stars of many a different color, shape, and size. They were arrayed about in half a circle and all amongst them, the distant light of the vines. He could not tell if the star-lights were truly stars, gem stones, or some other plant, but he did consider nearing one as soon as it seemed polite to do so. His curiosity burned to take in all that was about them.

“You said we would go back to the peregrine,” he began then looked above them toward the girders which seemed to make out the skeleton of the room's ribs overhead. “Is this a bird of some importance?”

Over the Hill ~ ClosetMonster x PopeAlessandros

:) Thank you.

Over the Hill ~ ClosetMonster x PopeAlessandros

The tall man looks up as his guest enters into the small main room of his cottage. He is tall, slender, like a whipcord. Entering into the side room where the dining table sits, Chall has to duck his head underneath the lintel between. Even doing so, he looks proud and sure of his place. He no doubt has a certainty of his own abilities, or it is merely an act of having been in court, Wren is sure. The mage looks delicate, almost feminine, though that could be the feline in him. But, even the cat who has chosen to precede his human-like kin in order to twine about Wren's ankles, looks as if she could dance with the fae on summer evenings. It is a farce, Wren knows. The female has chased off more than her share of toms as well as having given the rodent population of the farm a rendering. She is more than she seems, a killing machine.

Like mages, who look helpless. More than they seem, despite the flash of light. Wren has seen, first hand, the horrors their magics can call down.

The shepherd huffs through his nostrils in both uncertainty and amusement that the mage should consider having to ask about the place settings. “Of course,” he says slow and easy. There is hunger writ all about the young man's self. It is kind, that the boy chooses to ask, when he could simply take. There is a modicum of real manners, at the very least. “Please,” Wren beckons toward the table, “sit and eat. We have a short journey, but I suspect you've a long enough one ahead. I've made up a knap sack for your trip.” He turns to the side table and pulls from the top, a small sack with that very intent. Food stuffs, a half circle of cheese and two loaves of bread wrapped in linen, along with a bottle of warm cider, and it is something, enough if used with care, to get the mage to the next town.

He sets the satchel to the side of the sidetable's top, then goes to the kitchen where he calls Baxter to his side and leaves the dog with the leftover mutton bone. The cast iron pan is plucked from the fire with a thickly woven wool pad and set upon the table with serving spoon set cock-eyed in the eggs.

Wren sits himself across from the mage. Not standing on ceremony, he makes himself up a plate, dropping some of the mutton to the floor where Baxter has settled with his bone. Annie will have food enough, Wren does not worry overmuch. The boy, Harcourt Mace, no doubt will find her with the sheep and give her part of his afternoon meal.

He eats quickly, a man who has not taken time to digest a meal, nor do more than manage his needs so that his duties can be gotten to, and very intent on getting them into the farm yard and across town, sooner rather than later. As he eats, however, he takes another look at the young man and feels sure that both the sleep and Marge's more slow acting, nature inclined magics have done more good for the mage over the night. It no doubt would take a few more days if the man were patient to let her magic work, but that was not the way of his kind, Wren knew. The quickness of a thing was its measure in the more flash and glitter of the courts. He chuffed again, almost like a dog, and finished up his plate, ensuring the man had his fill before he cleaned out the rest of the pan. He did not try and talk to the man, there was no reason to do so. They would part ways in time for Wren to catch back up with his herd on their way to watering at high noon. He had a desire to make it to that place in time to catch them again.

“When you've finished,” he says almost a moment after he's begun, having eaten all there was to do, “I'll take you to the pool.” He stands and gathers up the platters not still in use, then goes to do the washing up as his guest continues to eat. Baxter, under the table, thumps his tail in delight as his master stands, but does not leave the bone. Instead, the good-natured dog returns to his meal, cracking through the walls to get to the marrow.

Let's talk Anime

Hmmm... I've actually moved away from anime lately, but now and again, one will come up and prove itself different enough from the usual to capture my interest. That's always a delight.

So what are your favorite? Tekkonkinkreet and Paprika are both surprisingly fun. But definite favorites are Summer Wars, The Cat Returns, Wonderful Days, Haibane Renmei, and ANYTHING directed and written (has to be both) by Makoto Shinkai (5 Centimeters Per Second, Voices of a Distant Star, She and her Cat, Children Who Chase Lost Voices) simply because the little things make an anime just fabulous.

What do you like about Anime? The artwork is my first. Second is the slow burn you get in a well told story - things just take a while to set into place and its that final culmination of all of the information from the story I really love.

Who are your favorite characters? Dio from Last Exile. Wolfwood from Trigun, Onizuka (nuff said), Tennar from Tales from Earthsea

If you had to recommend one anime to the world, which would it be? FLCL!!!!!
Oh - wait - you meant for reals? Heh. Summer Wars: good starter for someone entering anime and solid for those of us who have been in the realm for a long time.

Light in the Dark

“Fixing netting,” Hap answered with a frustrated sniffle through its small nostrils. Its large eyes narrowed, it bent over a particularly difficult piece of wiring where only a small knot was necessary.

Narrow, pink tongue out between its teeth, Hap focused entirely on the knot, then sat back as it took and sighed. Krell wandered into the room licking her muzzle and white teeth, then sat, her dugs full for pups barely visible through the thick, winter fur. She lapped at her inner legs, then settled on her side, groaning in pleasure of being not in demand.

Hap pursed its lips and frowned at Wilhelm. What thoughts it might have had, however, it kept to itself.

“You are at the reaches, did you know? There is the great Break just beyond the Light House and despite it being well lit,” the Keeper's tone turned sardonic as it stated what was more than obvious, “at times this or that can fall over the edge. Greatest is a bear, smallest is a bird or a pica.”

To have some small thing fall to the great Light deep inside of the Break, not even a bear or a troll could make much impact, so such concerns were often worth question to those Keepers who kept the Great Break. Hap did not wait for the interview. Instead, it lifted the netting in hand and shook it out some. “No reason to have them go to waste. Food is hard enough to come by out here. All the villages at the other Reaches have a netting, larger than mine. But I've only a handful of mouths to feed, so no need to keep a greater net than this.”

It gave a derisive huff, then began again on its task, dividing attention between the netting and the troll on its floor. “What are you doing here?” it asked then, because it seemed Wilhelm was aware enough to have some kind of conversation and despite not caring, Hap was curious in a distant manner.

That moment, when uncommon chatter was to fill the quiet of the Keeper's home, had a relaxed and common sense to it. For many a decade, the Keeper's world was little but the whistle of wind, the howl of dogs, and its own dual-toned humming when it bored of the silence. Yet with the inclusion of a single soul, needing but not demanding, belonging in the same way Krell belonged, the Western Light House at the edge of the Great Break was filled with warmth and not just light.

The stars, however, keep their secrets and not a one whispered to the snow as the first flash appeared many day's travel to the lee of Finger Eight, the Jasper Forest. There, in the darkness of eternal starlight, four fires lit and held.