Haha, oh god, Aelyn as a mother-hen. It’s too good. She’s really enthusiastic, and she sort of attacks whatever she’s doing with a million percent for a few weeks before dropping it for another project. She’s hard to keep on board for long term things, and she’s not used to spending long in any one place. She’s all about new and exciting things and people and experiences.
But yeah, after dealing with Mykail, Aelyn can shut shit down and get things moving. Mother hen is probably the best way to put it!
Also, I think Aelyn’s going to find Invaadi adorable. Aelyn’s been surrounded by dudes her whole life, and she’s kind of over it. Regardless if Vi wants to be friends, Aelyn’s pretty much deadset on having a lady bestie. *_* She'd totally want to teach Vi how to cook and dress her up and basically get to indulge her girliness.
Aelyn’s probably worked with Onru loads of times, seeing as how they’re both mechanic types. I think she’d be hella fond of him. Anyone who lets her talk shop for hours on end is aces in her book. :D
As for Reeko—Sabacc/poor decision buddies!
I’m finishing up Mykail’s bio, his painting is just taking forever. Sorry for the delay!
El Taco Taco
Member
Schist happens.
STATUS: 'I know the Goliath Fucking Bird-Eating Spider can't fly because if it could, it would have a different name entirely. We would call it "sir" because it would be the dominant species on the planet.' 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 28 days ago
- Old Guild Username: El Taco Taco
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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TheDookieNut,
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8 yrs ago
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'I know the Goliath Fucking Bird-Eating Spider can't fly because if it could, it would have a different name entirely. We would call it "sir" because it would be the dominant species on the planet.'
7
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8 yrs ago
'There is no word in the English language for the feeling someone gets when they suddenly realize they're standing next to an unholy monster impersonating a human. Monstralization, maybe?'
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8 yrs ago
'If Zoey Ashe had known she was being stalked by a man who intended to kill her and then slowly eat her bones, she would've worried more about that and less about getting her cat off the roof.'
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9 yrs ago
"And watch out for Molly. See if she does anything unusual. There’s something I don’t trust about the way she exploded and then came back from the dead like that."
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9 yrs ago
"We're talking about a tentacled flying lamp fucker, Dave. What are you prepared to call unlikely?"
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Bio
"OK, I've just about had my FILL of riddle-asking, quest-assigning, insult-throwing, pun-hurling, hostage-taking, iron-mongering, smart-arsed fools, freaks, and felons that continually test my will, mettle, strength, intelligence, and most of all, patience! If you've got a straight answer ANYWHERE in that bent little head of yours, I want to hear it pretty damn quick or I'm going to take a large blunt object roughly the size of Elminster AND his hat, and stuff it lengthwise into a crevice of your being so seldom seen that even the denizens of the nine hells themselves wouldn't touch it with a twenty-foot rusty halberd! Have I MADE myself perfectly CLEAR?!" - CHARNAME, Baldur's Gate
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12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Yeah, I made the mistake of playing 2 and all the DLC/headhunter packs first, and then I played 1. I think if I had played them in order, I would have enjoyed the first game more. It was good, but it just wasn't as good as the second.
I went to the Gearbox panel and signing at PAX this year and a lot of the developers said playing the Pre-Sequel does the same thing that 2 did to 1; you just find yourself wishing for the new gameplay. I can see what they mean. The butt-stomping and cryo weapons and freakin lasers were DOPE AS HELL. *_* I got to play as Athena with my buddy as Claptrap and omg. I don't think I'll ever play anything else again (except Tales From the Borderlands, because it's amazeballs. And Inquisition. Okay, that was a wildly inaccurate statement, but srsly, it is SO GOOD Ahhhhhhhh).
ANYWHO! I've only ever drabbled in Borderlands as Maya. I wrote amusing Echonet podcasts as Gaige to send to my buddy on deployment a few months ago, but I've yet to RP in the verse. I'd totally love to write through the main campaign with any of the fellow vault hunters, or write more slice of life things about Sanctuary.
Aaactually, since this is the last RP I'm looking for a while, I think I'm going to set up an interest check just for it. Still totes happy to write with you in Borderlands or HP, of course.
I went to the Gearbox panel and signing at PAX this year and a lot of the developers said playing the Pre-Sequel does the same thing that 2 did to 1; you just find yourself wishing for the new gameplay. I can see what they mean. The butt-stomping and cryo weapons and freakin lasers were DOPE AS HELL. *_* I got to play as Athena with my buddy as Claptrap and omg. I don't think I'll ever play anything else again (except Tales From the Borderlands, because it's amazeballs. And Inquisition. Okay, that was a wildly inaccurate statement, but srsly, it is SO GOOD Ahhhhhhhh).
ANYWHO! I've only ever drabbled in Borderlands as Maya. I wrote amusing Echonet podcasts as Gaige to send to my buddy on deployment a few months ago, but I've yet to RP in the verse. I'd totally love to write through the main campaign with any of the fellow vault hunters, or write more slice of life things about Sanctuary.
Aaactually, since this is the last RP I'm looking for a while, I think I'm going to set up an interest check just for it. Still totes happy to write with you in Borderlands or HP, of course.
“Thank you.”
His congratulations should have pleased her. Once, she had practically lived for his approval. Her whole life, she had been acutely aware that she was being watched. She had been six the first time her photo ended up accompanying a scathing commentary penned by Rita Skeeter. Her father had been so furious. It had been one of a handful of times she had ever seen him angry. While he had assured her that he wasn’t angry with her for having accidentally toppled a cart at the apothecary, Victoire had resolved to never let it happen again. She’d policed herself relentlessly to keep things peaceful and her name out of the paper. But with Teddy… somehow, she could actually not care about what others thought of her when she was with him. It had been freeing. It had been mortifying, of course, to read about the World Cup in Patagonia, but in the end they’d had a laugh at Skeeters commentary. She hadn’t been entirely wrong; Victoire remembered very little of the final match. Teddy’s self-satisfied grin had wiped away her embarrassment. If she was honest with herself, she missed that.
Perhaps it was the dispassionate way he offered his praise. It was ridiculous to expect anything else, but his cool politeness stung. He’d always been so unfailingly sincere with her. She couldn’t bear it, the empty small-talk. Merlin but she was a fool, for everything. She should have stayed home and dealt with Dominique privately, should have gone back to work by now and convinced Senior to let her cut short this miserable excuse for a holiday. She should have nicked a Time Turner and stopped herself from ever setting foot in St. Mungos. At the very least, she should have had a few more glasses of wine.
He mentioned the Prophet—Teddy worked for them? Victoire had stopped her subscription ages ago, after Skeeter had published a vile, and wildly incorrect, exposé about one of her Mediwizards, who had the misfortune to be the son of a recently exposed Death Eater. It didn’t sit right with her. Logically, she knew that he wasn’t responsible for what his colleagues wrote, but…
“The Prophet?” She couldn’t quite keep the trepidation out of her voice. Victoire’s bit her tongue, determined to keep her contempt for the newspaper separate from him. He’d found work, and obviously he enjoyed it. Who was she to judge? At least he seemed happy enough. She couldn’t exactly say the same. “That sounds… exciting.”
Merlin, why couldn’t she at least sound pleased for him? A pang of envy shot through her, selfish and petty, and Victoire tried to push it away. She didn’t want him to be miserable. Not truly. But it was one thing to be happy for him from afar and quite another to be dancing with him. This close, it was impossible to forget the taste of him, the dozens of nights she had spent learning him. Even now, she felt almost compelled to be closer to him, and it was only the knowledge that she had broken them that kept her at bay.
The song had to end, soon—she didn’t think she could handle this proximity much longer. A sense of panic began to set in, as the more logical side of her brain assured her that this was an entirely Bad Idea.
His congratulations should have pleased her. Once, she had practically lived for his approval. Her whole life, she had been acutely aware that she was being watched. She had been six the first time her photo ended up accompanying a scathing commentary penned by Rita Skeeter. Her father had been so furious. It had been one of a handful of times she had ever seen him angry. While he had assured her that he wasn’t angry with her for having accidentally toppled a cart at the apothecary, Victoire had resolved to never let it happen again. She’d policed herself relentlessly to keep things peaceful and her name out of the paper. But with Teddy… somehow, she could actually not care about what others thought of her when she was with him. It had been freeing. It had been mortifying, of course, to read about the World Cup in Patagonia, but in the end they’d had a laugh at Skeeters commentary. She hadn’t been entirely wrong; Victoire remembered very little of the final match. Teddy’s self-satisfied grin had wiped away her embarrassment. If she was honest with herself, she missed that.
Perhaps it was the dispassionate way he offered his praise. It was ridiculous to expect anything else, but his cool politeness stung. He’d always been so unfailingly sincere with her. She couldn’t bear it, the empty small-talk. Merlin but she was a fool, for everything. She should have stayed home and dealt with Dominique privately, should have gone back to work by now and convinced Senior to let her cut short this miserable excuse for a holiday. She should have nicked a Time Turner and stopped herself from ever setting foot in St. Mungos. At the very least, she should have had a few more glasses of wine.
He mentioned the Prophet—Teddy worked for them? Victoire had stopped her subscription ages ago, after Skeeter had published a vile, and wildly incorrect, exposé about one of her Mediwizards, who had the misfortune to be the son of a recently exposed Death Eater. It didn’t sit right with her. Logically, she knew that he wasn’t responsible for what his colleagues wrote, but…
“The Prophet?” She couldn’t quite keep the trepidation out of her voice. Victoire’s bit her tongue, determined to keep her contempt for the newspaper separate from him. He’d found work, and obviously he enjoyed it. Who was she to judge? At least he seemed happy enough. She couldn’t exactly say the same. “That sounds… exciting.”
Merlin, why couldn’t she at least sound pleased for him? A pang of envy shot through her, selfish and petty, and Victoire tried to push it away. She didn’t want him to be miserable. Not truly. But it was one thing to be happy for him from afar and quite another to be dancing with him. This close, it was impossible to forget the taste of him, the dozens of nights she had spent learning him. Even now, she felt almost compelled to be closer to him, and it was only the knowledge that she had broken them that kept her at bay.
The song had to end, soon—she didn’t think she could handle this proximity much longer. A sense of panic began to set in, as the more logical side of her brain assured her that this was an entirely Bad Idea.
WHOOSH OKAY. Finally got Aelyn up. I'll finish painting Mykail tomorrow and poop out a profile for him then. Cheers!
”If you like your humanoids flexible, svelte, enthusiastic, and in multiple shades of red, then the most beautiful people in the galaxy are on Zeltros.” – Ruudi Buundaz
Aelyn Krael; All Guts, No Glory
Age: Twenty Six
Race: Zeltron
Birthplace: ISD Acheron, an Imperial-II Class Star Destroyer
Languages: Basic, Droidspeak, Conversational Huttese
Racial Bonuses: Pheromone Production, Empathy, Increased Metabolism, Second Liver
Skills: Machine Intuition, Slicing, Repair, Demolitions, Handling Mykail, Gambling, Drinking, Snappy Oneliners, Cooking, Mathematics.
Equipment: Hydrospanner, Sabacc Deck, Remote, Flask.
Born to Imperial Senior Captain Chantin Krael and Wing Commander Valora Waji, Aelyn and her twin Mykail spent most of their early childhood moving from ships and station, never staying in one location for more than a few years at a time. Aelyn’s natural aptitude for machines manifested at a young age, landing her in trouble numerous times as she compulsively disassembled and upgraded whatever droids, computers, or weapons she could get her hands on. The twins were educated on post, Aelyn the clear academic of the two.
A series of skirmishes in the Outer Rim lead to the deaths of her parents. In accordance with their wishes, Aelyn and Mykail were put on a civilian transport to Zeltros to stay with their grandparents. Their transport caught a bad case of pirates. Sixteen and en route to the Spice Mines of Kessel, the twins instead elected to throw in with the Terracus Raiders. This, surprisingly, worked.
Four years later, the Raiders met their end at the hands of the inaccurately named Liberators. The Krael twins managed a daring escape to Nar Shaddaa using a hydrospanner, a malfunctioning protocol droid, and a series of well-timed explosions. Things got dicey quick; between Aelyn’s gambling habit and Mykail’s predilection for saying exactly the wrong thing to the wrong people, the twins were soon up to their eyeballs in debt. Within two years, Aelyn and her brother were on the run again, looking for someone Big and Powerful to hide behind.
That Big and Powerful someone ended up being the extremely purple Mahuva the Hutt, an old contact from their time with the Raiders. He ever so generously agreed to buy out their debt… with a moderate interest rate of 23%. With no other options, the twins agreed, and found themselves in the employ of the Hutt.
;_; aaaaghhhhhh. Blue screen of death struck when I'd finally nearly finished my post. skjjsakjakjsssssaaaaaaaaaaaa. WHyyyyyyyyy
Of course! :D
Yay! I love writing her sassy mcsasspants. She can be deliciously vicious. :P
Yay! I love writing her sassy mcsasspants. She can be deliciously vicious. :P
Yay, random race love! I’m a huge fan of the Cathar and the Togruta myself. Too much fun *_* I don’t think I’ve ever played a human in Star Wars, haha!
I have Aelyn just about done, still have to finish Mykail’s. I’m keeping the sheets pretty sparse since my characters have a habit of getting away from me. P:
Definitely on board with picking a fifth person. Aaahhh, so fucking stoked :D
I have Aelyn just about done, still have to finish Mykail’s. I’m keeping the sheets pretty sparse since my characters have a habit of getting away from me. P:
Definitely on board with picking a fifth person. Aaahhh, so fucking stoked :D
No sweat! So long as you give me a heads up, I don't mind minor repositioning of characters and settings and such. Flow must be preserved!
Ahhh, Phoebe's bitchiness is always fun to write. <3
Ahhh, Phoebe's bitchiness is always fun to write. <3
Phoebe burned with humiliation as he bandaged her ankle for her. Shit—she was a qualified Healer, one of the best in her department, and she could heal it in a blink of an eye, if only her thoughts would clear. The compression sent a lance of pain through her nerves, electricity arcing up her leg. A gasp escaped her, and she would have done anything for the ground to open wide and swallow her whole.
“Come on,” he insisted, and she had half a mind to refuse, purely out of spite. It was counter-productive—she had chased him down, after all. Her curiosity gnawed at every corner of her brain. And she followed, like a stupid little crup, incapable of resisting his commands. She hated it. For years, she had dreamed of running into him again, but her imaginings had never been quite like this. He’d always been miserable in her head, a shadow of himself, and she’d had everything she’d ever wanted. Phoebe always figured she would have come out on top, would have been able to look at him without her heart shattering all over again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He moved like he owned the place. Once she had found that deeply attractive. Now, it made Phoebe want to hex him into a bloody pulp. Teeth on edge, she carried herself with every ounce of dignity she could manage, strung out and limping faintly. She seated herself, a shiver rolling down her spine as she forced it straight. Pale fingers pushed her brunette waves off her face, ignoring the way her skin crawled as it clung to her neck.
He was speaking, making excuses, and Phoebe pursed her lips into a thin line. His words were cheap, but a part of her brain relished his words. It hadn’t been easy, he had said. Good. She hoped he’d agonized over it. Even if he was lying, just paying lip-service, she clung to the idea.
A cup of Assam tea was placed before her. Her pride demanded she ignore it. She couldn’t obey his every whim. It was bad enough that she had followed him here.
He was going on about secrecy—The Unbreakable Vow—and Phoebe narrowed her eyes. He gave her two options, the Vow or Leave, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to refrain from throwing her tea in his face. Lips curving into a humorless smile, she folded her arms.
“I have this policy,” she informed him cooly, “Of not forging Unbreakable Vows with assholes that make a habit of dropping off the face of the Earth, I’m sure you can understand.” She made no motion to leave, studying him. Out of the rain and seated, it was a little easier to cling to reality. Her nails curved into the flesh of her arms, determined to keep her shivering at bay. She could do this. She deserved nothing less.
“You know, here’s what I don’t get,” she willed her words to be clear, and she had no idea if she was successful at all. It was so bright in here. She could barely see him for the sparks, and she drove her nails in deeper. “You disappeared for ten years, for whatever idiotic reason or another, and you have this ridiculous idea that you can just show up and make demands of me? Were you always this stupid, or is this a new development?”
She wanted to scream at him. She had followed every lead she could find, determined to find him and give him a piece of her mind, had waited like a pitiful child, hoping against hope that he would come back to her. His leaving had shattered her. And then he popped back into existence as if nothing had happened. It took a conscious effort to keep her teeth from chattering. Merlin’s tits, it felt like she’d jumped into a snowdrift.
“And here’s a thought; how is it that you know I was married, and yet I had to wonder if you were even alive? I’m almost impressed, honestly. I mean, I’m a shit judge of character, but it’s really amazing just how awful of a human being you turned out to be. I'd applaud you but, you know."
“Come on,” he insisted, and she had half a mind to refuse, purely out of spite. It was counter-productive—she had chased him down, after all. Her curiosity gnawed at every corner of her brain. And she followed, like a stupid little crup, incapable of resisting his commands. She hated it. For years, she had dreamed of running into him again, but her imaginings had never been quite like this. He’d always been miserable in her head, a shadow of himself, and she’d had everything she’d ever wanted. Phoebe always figured she would have come out on top, would have been able to look at him without her heart shattering all over again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He moved like he owned the place. Once she had found that deeply attractive. Now, it made Phoebe want to hex him into a bloody pulp. Teeth on edge, she carried herself with every ounce of dignity she could manage, strung out and limping faintly. She seated herself, a shiver rolling down her spine as she forced it straight. Pale fingers pushed her brunette waves off her face, ignoring the way her skin crawled as it clung to her neck.
He was speaking, making excuses, and Phoebe pursed her lips into a thin line. His words were cheap, but a part of her brain relished his words. It hadn’t been easy, he had said. Good. She hoped he’d agonized over it. Even if he was lying, just paying lip-service, she clung to the idea.
A cup of Assam tea was placed before her. Her pride demanded she ignore it. She couldn’t obey his every whim. It was bad enough that she had followed him here.
He was going on about secrecy—The Unbreakable Vow—and Phoebe narrowed her eyes. He gave her two options, the Vow or Leave, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to refrain from throwing her tea in his face. Lips curving into a humorless smile, she folded her arms.
“I have this policy,” she informed him cooly, “Of not forging Unbreakable Vows with assholes that make a habit of dropping off the face of the Earth, I’m sure you can understand.” She made no motion to leave, studying him. Out of the rain and seated, it was a little easier to cling to reality. Her nails curved into the flesh of her arms, determined to keep her shivering at bay. She could do this. She deserved nothing less.
“You know, here’s what I don’t get,” she willed her words to be clear, and she had no idea if she was successful at all. It was so bright in here. She could barely see him for the sparks, and she drove her nails in deeper. “You disappeared for ten years, for whatever idiotic reason or another, and you have this ridiculous idea that you can just show up and make demands of me? Were you always this stupid, or is this a new development?”
She wanted to scream at him. She had followed every lead she could find, determined to find him and give him a piece of her mind, had waited like a pitiful child, hoping against hope that he would come back to her. His leaving had shattered her. And then he popped back into existence as if nothing had happened. It took a conscious effort to keep her teeth from chattering. Merlin’s tits, it felt like she’d jumped into a snowdrift.
“And here’s a thought; how is it that you know I was married, and yet I had to wonder if you were even alive? I’m almost impressed, honestly. I mean, I’m a shit judge of character, but it’s really amazing just how awful of a human being you turned out to be. I'd applaud you but, you know."
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