Recent Statuses

5 mos ago
Current No, no, they clearly are referring to Ohio -- which Georgia is geographically south of, so the theory is still sound.
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5 mos ago
Instructions unclear, created time travel isekai.
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5 mos ago
Welcome to the Bread Bank. We sell bread, we sell LOAFS.
6 mos ago
Where's your motivation?
6 mos ago


Oh, hi. Thanks for checking in.

I'm an exceedingly enthusiastic roleplayer who's been writing for about ten years now and yet still hasn't managed to produce any kind of solo piece of writing worth reading. I like to consider myself a good writer, but that's kind of a matter of opinion, as many would argue that my tendency to ramble on at entirely excessive length about things is boring rather than interesting. I'm also incredibly OCD about formatting, so if you're wondering why my bios look so fancy, that's why. It's just something I do because... reasons, I guess.

Anyway, as you've probably noticed from my avatars and RP choices, I'm more than a bit of a fan of anime and manga, but also enjoy movies, video games, the occasional comic book... the list goes on. For you see, I am not a mere dork - I am the one spoken of in legends, the one whose dorkiness transcends all forms and boundaries. I am... the Legendary... OMNI-DORK!

...Anyway, thanks for dropping in to check on my profile! Hope to RP with you sometime!


Most Recent Posts

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

Xiáyīng momentarily seemed to lower her guard. Or rather, it could perhaps be better said that her curiosity got the better of her. The man wasn't saying anything, and the woman had just entered the room and begun to speak. She tilted her head ever-so-slightly, wanting to see what they were doing, what their expressions were -- wanted to make sure they really weren't going to hurt her.

Then it happened. In an instant, a dark and familiar something stole its way over the dark-haired woman's face, icy recognition descending upon her from on high like hailstones, and sudden, bristling anger flashing towards her like lightning. Not towards her specifically, but rather towards...

"A young pair of eyes could be helpful in an investigation like yours, Sima."

She knew. She didn't just know, but she craved the power that Xiáyīng so unwillingly bore.

It wasn't a request, or an invitation -- it was a threat. Lend her power, or have it taken from her by force. Even if she complied, there was no guarantee the woman wouldn't turn on her once her usefulness to her had ended. If she let her guard down for even a second... her eyes would be taken.

But she had already seen the woman's strength herself. The path she had walked was long and arduous, and surely, a useless child like her could not possibly hope to match one who had climbed so far, and learned so much. If she drew her blade here, or if she tried to run -- it mattered not. All she could do was comply.

Her only reassurance was that the man did not seem to share the woman's awareness of her nature. Or, if he did know -- he had called her "Blue," after all -- he lacked the same hostility. She could see it -- his sorrow, and his warmth. It was far too presumptuous to expect that he would protect her, necessarily, if push came to shove, but... for the time being, of the two who had pressed her into service, he seemed much safer than his dark-haired companion.

"I'm sorry." Despite his advice, it was the only answer that came naturally to her when she was scolded. What else was she supposed to say? Nevertheless, she tried to hold her head just a little higher -- almost high enough to meet his gaze as she awkwardly, unsubtly scooted just a little closer to him, and away from Yifang. "I did not mean to cause offense. I will... umm... keep your advice in mind."

It wasn't much -- and it could hardly be called an improvement -- but the way she gripped her sword now bespoke a fear much greater than simply being robbed. If she was attacked, she would run, and if forced to fight, she would lose -- but despite the inevitability of such a defeat, she began to steel herself for such an eventuality regardless.

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

The floorboards creaked outside the threshold, and instinctively, Xiáyīng lowered her head in one last futile attempt to keep her eyes from being seen. It was of no particular use, of course -- the shadow that towered over her swiftly descended to her own level, peering under the brim of her hood and meeting her gaze before she knew it. She clutched the sheathed sword at her side all the more tightly -- not because she thought she would have to use it, but rather because she feared the one defense she had left would be taken away.

Yet, when he did speak, it was in a kinder, gentler tone than she had heard in a long, long time. The mere sound of his voice surprised her so much that she completely failed to mark the meaning of the words he spoke to her, simply staring at him in bewilderment before her old habits reminded her that she did not deserve the privilege of looking upon a true warrior, and she thus quickly lowered her head.

"Um... Please... forgive my trespass. I had thought this place abandoned, and meant merely to rest. Please, forgive me." Before she knew it, apologies and excuses were spilling from her lips, though she hardly expected them to be received. Even if this man seemed kind on the surface, surely, the temple's owner would be less lenient...

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

She hadn't intended to eavesdrop. Really, she hadn't.

Xiáyīng hadn't even thought about the conversation the two people outside might have been having at first, as she had been almost entirely preoccupied with self-concealment. But once she had erased her already meager presence, and had tucked herself nicely out of their line of sight, her mind had begun to wander away from the silence of her own quiet breathing, to the voices she could hear outside. And so it was that, without really meaning to, she heard what was being discussed.

"-- isolated village a few hours out seemed to have up and vanished. Not too strange to happen during the war, but a peddler seemed to have traded with 'em 3 months ago."

...So the village she had encountered before wasn't the only one to suffer such a fate? Her heart felt heavy, and her head drooped. Of course, it wasn't as though she expected that the only evils in the world were the ones which she had beheld with her own two eyes, but even so, the reminder and the remembrance that came with it weighed heavily upon her.

If they were investigating such things, though, then didn't that mean they were martial artists? Honorable and upstanding folk, like the man who... Well, at any rate, her curiosity was stirred, and so, against her better judgment, she peered meekly out around the fringe of the doorway when she thought nobody was looking, and --

The wind whistled between the mountain's twin crests. The boughs rustled, their petals plucked -- life strewn carelessly upon the surface of the water far below. Ripples formed around her where she lay, soaked and chilled to the bone, merely gazing up at the sky. She had always been here. She would never be able to leave. She clawed at the stone with bloodied fingers, trying in vain to rise, only to fall and sink deeper -- ever deeper into the dark water.

Silent and still. All was silent and still. Ever and always, silent and still. She was but a single droplet in a boundless spring. A single life within a vast world. A tiny and frail thing that could do naught but sink.

Yet even from within those soundless depths, she could still see the ones who stood above.

One was a warrior ascendant upon a steep and winding road, whose every stride carried him closer -- ever closer to the clouds. But though he bore a thousand blades upon his back, the way was so narrow and so treacherous that none could walk beside him to bear his steel, or share in his burden.

The other's burdens were of a different sort. The road ahead of her was easy, and well-traveled -- if only she could but walk it. Yet shadows hounded her -- their grasp stayed her feet, even as the tracks she followed faded into nothing before her eyes. As the sun began to set behind the mountain, the shadows in her wake grew long indeed -- like jaws opened wide to devour her, while she but stood, and waited for the journey's end.

Xiáyīng gasped, and drew back behind the threshold, shutting her aching eyes -- yet the echoes of the vision still seemed painted upon the insides of her eyelids, drifting phantasms and lingering silhouettes dancing across the darkness despite her attempts to blink and rub them away. Why had she dared to look, when she knew she wouldn't be able to control what she might see? Foolish, utterly foolish, and now --

"I know that you're lookin' after someone here already, so I'd understand if you'd want to stay."

Xiáyīng's heart sank. Now they knew she was here.

The woman called out to her a moment later -- or, rather, seemed to be addressing her indirectly, but nevertheless showed that she, too, had witnessed Xiáyīng's moment of indiscretion. But how much had they seen? Just her face, or had they even noticed her eyes? If they had, would they try to hurt her? She'd be able to tell if she looked at them again, but if she looked then they might see if they hadn't already, and if they saw then they definitely would, so should she just stay hidden? But she couldn't stay hidden because they'd already seen her. Should she say something? But what? Saying "I'm not a thief" would only make them think she was one, but if she asked permission to stay only after already entering the temple then -- then...

Her racing thoughts carried her completely away, and ultimately she became so preoccupied wondering what she should say or how she should say it that she said... nothing at all.

Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

Xiáyīng wasn't lost.

Being lost, after all, required a destination which one intended to reach. A goal. Some sort of purpose. At the very least, a rudimentary grasp of geography was necessary.

Well, maybe that wasn't quite right. One could be lost in ways other than a purely physical sense. To be cast adrift from one's home, one's past, one's very way of being -- surely that could be called "lost" also, right?

The very word "lost" did seem to fit her quite aptly. After all, few could probably claim to have ever possessed half of all that had been taken from her. Even so, thinking about that "loss" could no longer even bring tears to her eyes. Instead, it only carried with it a sense of numbness, and a sort of aimless resolve -- a strong drive to leave all that behind her, which in turn sputtered out within her the moment she turned her thoughts on where, instead, to go.

Either way, she didn't like to think about it more than she had to. It was better to leave such empty feelings in the dark place where they had first been born. The tears she couldn't cry now had already been shed yesterday, and to mourn the loss of one's very ability to mourn would be so laughably piteous that it could only be seen as farce comedy.

...Hm. Yes. That was quite profound. Perhaps it would have made a good poem, if she still remembered any of the education she had received in such pure and elegant pursuits. Unfortunately, no words, however sweet, could fill the yawning void in her stomach, nor would the deepest ocean of philosophical preponderance slake her thirst.

Oh. And she also hadn't the faintest clue where she even was. There was also that.

Even before her... fall from grace, she had seen little and heard less of the world beyond the Severed Peak. Even discussing the affairs of the outside had been a forbidden subject since the heirs were born. To think of leaving -- why, the very idea had been laughable. As a child, she never could have dreamed that she would ever willfully defy that taboo.

But there were a great many things under heaven which she could not have imagined as a child, and compared to the path that had led her down the mountain's slopes, the first steps she had taken into the world beyond it had been wholly unremarkable by comparison. No... perhaps "unremarkable" wasn't the right word. "Disappointing," maybe? Perhaps "sobering..."

Sad. It was sad.

She had walked for days before she found a village. Her hopes had soared at the familiar sight of houses, only to fall again when she got closer and saw their sorry state. Anything taller than one story had long since collapsed, and the rest more resembled charred toothpicks than functional masonry. There hadn't been a single soul alive in the entire place.

"Alive" being the operative word. It had taken her almost three whole days to bury all of the bodies, and by the time she was done she had exhausted all the water she had carried with her from the Dragonspring. That was around when she remembered what "hunger" felt like, and it finally occurred to her that she hadn't eaten in... in...

...Huh. That was strange. She couldn't even remember how long it had been anymore. She'd kept a tally, back in the shrine, but the marks she had stubbornly clawed into the rotten wood weren't something she would have wanted to carry with her even had she been able to, and their number had long since grown beyond any hope of counting.

At any rate, her conscience had gotten the better of her. She hadn't been able to bear the thought of leaving the desolate town's former inhabitants to be picked over by the birds and dogs, and so she had done her best to give them as proper a funeral as she could. They were not so different, after all -- she had simply had the fortune to climb from her grave, whereas they...

...They had died in agony. She had seen it -- or rather, had been forced to see it. Every day as she toiled, the visions wouldn't stop. There, a house now in ruins. There, the site where a beloved child had been crushed beneath the body of a helpless mother. There, where a man fell before the broken gates, his blood spilled in vain for a home he couldn't protect. Blood. Death. Darkness. Even when she refused to look, it surrounded her.

It wasn't their fault. What happened here wasn't fair. It was only right that someone should remember a tragedy -- because if she didn't, then who would? Yet even so, that didn't make the things she saw any easier to bear. By the time the last scraps of dirt had been laid upon the shallow mound, all she could bring herself to feel was relief that finally, it was over.

The last one she buried was the man outside the gates. It felt only right. He must have been the first to fall -- standing proudly against whatever force had wreaked this carnage. The soil all around where he had lain had been baked by the sun, bearing a reddish tinge from the blood that had soaked into it. She could still see the footprints, preserved by the drought, showing where his body had been trampled over, his face stomped into the mud and the filth by the advancing enemy.

As she had extricated his crumbling body from the rubble of the gate, it had struck her that even in death, the sword in his hand was gripped so tightly that she could hardly remove it. When she finally extricated it from his grasp, the hand that had held it crumbled to dust, as though its purpose was at last fulfilled.

"You did well," She had said without thinking. The stillness that followed was almost deafening, and for the first night since her arrival in the ruined village, her sleep had been sound, filled only with dreams too fleeting to remember. When she had awakened, she had found herself crying.

She only realized after the burial was done that, after years of isolation, her own attire was little more than rags. By comparison, even the bloodstained and soiled robes of the gatekeeper seemed almost pristine by comparison. His sword, too, though dented and chipped, remained unrusted and unbroken.

She tore up what little remained of her own robes, and used the cloth to mend the nameless warrior's garb. She had expected to feel guilty for her robbery, but strangely, all she felt was an odd sort of peace. He, too, had been like her in a way. Forced to fight a futile battle he did not want, he had not shied away from the inevitable result -- even unto the bitter end. She admired that. If only she herself had possessed that kind of resolve, then surely...

So it was that she now found herself upon an unknown road. It had been many days since then. Weeks, perhaps. Months, even. She didn't really care anymore. She had seen more towns since then. She'd been welcomed in some, and shunned in others. Yet no matter how far she roamed, the visions she saw while she was awake, and the dreams she saw when she was asleep -- those never went away. Nor could she lose the feeling that the old sword now strapped by her side yet had some purpose to fulfill.

But she was hungry, and thirsty, and tired. A town lay ahead, but she could not find it in herself to hope that she would be welcomed there. So it was that she turned instead to a small, decrepit shrine by the side of the road, long overgrown with kudzu and seemingly left abandoned. By the time she realized that it wasn't... well, there was already a visitor in the courtyard behind her, and someone else was coming out from behind the old building, and... and, on instinct, she had hidden herself away before she knew it. She had little pride left to lose, but to be mistaken for a thief come to plunder a holy place would shame even her.

Thankfully, she was well-used to avoiding notice. She tucked herself behind the frame of the temple's door, curled up, and prayed the people outside would leave. Her already miniscule presence faded to almost nothing, and her breathing became so faint that even she could hardly perceive it. Yes, if they would just leave, she would hastily depart and trouble them no longer. She didn't come to take anything, she just wanted a place to rest... But no one would see things that way, and if they met, there would only be conflict. She didn't want any trouble, so if they'd just give her a chance, she'd leave. She was sorry. She'd just been so tired, and so thirsty -- so far from home, and so... so...


Without realizing, Xiáyīng had become lost upon the road of life.


...So the right answer when your superior asked you this sort of question... It was yes, right?

Once again, Kai's demeanor proved impossible for the somewhat oblivious blonde to make sense of. He seemed unconcerned with such things, contented to go at his own pace, but then all of a sudden he hit her with the last response she could have expected. Was this some sort of a test? Truth be told, she was actually pretty nervous about what sort of training they'd be doing, and the scornful words of her unwanted roommate were still fresh in her mind. Excitement and energy should have been the farthest thing from her mind as she sat there, munching contemplatively upon a surprisingly-not-stale biscuit.

...But, well, living face to face with the prospect of reaching out and grabbing your childhood dream has a tendency to make it hard to maintain a soulful melancholy for very long. And so it was that she found Kai's question surprisingly easy to answer between mouthfuls as she finished the biscuit and followed up by inhaling a sausage.

"Who, me? I'm always energetic. Today especially! We're gonna finally start becoming knights, after all!"
Alright. I think I've finally got this working. Apologies in advance, everyone -- this is probably the most ridiculously extra CS I've ever made on this site. XD

Gonna tentatively throw my hat in the ring for this one

For many of the kids gathered at the front gates of Ishin Academy, today was a great day -- a first momentous step that would carry them across the starting line and onto the path of chasing their wildest dreams. The fires of anticipation burned within their hearts, driving them onward into the tumultuous throng so that they might enter into their future one measly step ahead of the rest. They were like ants, really -- all scrambling about in a writhing, teeming mass, stumbling over each other in their haste to reach a goal that was ultimately pointless.

It wasn't that Nishikiyama Izuna didn't understand their enthusiasm, of course. She just had a much more valid reason for wanting to get inside as soon as possible.

Drip. Drip.


She had emptied out her Quirk as best she could that morning before getting on the train, wringing every last droplet from her storage like some kind of metaphysical dish rag. Unfortunately, it had snowed the night before all the way up the train line she'd been taking, and the amount of moisture in the air as it melted under the sunlight had been more than enough to fill her back to full capacity before she knew it. It had taken every last ounce of her willpower to keep from flooding the train car, for crying out loud! And so, just as soon as she'd gotten off of it and forced her way out of the station, the relief she had felt had been almost palpable.

Then she had lost her focus, and now look where she'd ended up: soaked to the skin, with icicles already forming at the tips of her silvery hair and frost covering the surface of her already infuriatingly stiff uniform. The thick, tarp-like substance they'd made her stupid mandatory blazer out of had been hard enough to move in to begin with, but now she could hardly even raise her arms thanks to the layer of solid ice coating her sleeves! If it weren't for the insulated wetsuit she'd put on underneath the rest of her outfit, she'd have probably turned blue by now. Her barbels twitched and thrashed about with repressed anger as she tried once again to force her way through the crowd, the photophores in each tendril lighting up a violent shade of crimson.

No dice. Nobody was paying any attention to her. Already, her "tank" was starting to fill up again, and between her discomfort, anxiety, and sheer overwhelming frustration, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold onto it for long. So, rather than holding it in, she tried a new approach. The ice coating one of her arms began to crack and fall away as she forced her hand straight upward, then blasted a jet of water straight up into the air like a geyser. The fwoosh as the water sprayed high overhead caused most of the crowd around her to disperse in confusion at the sudden noise -- a decision they soon became thankful for as a deluge of droplets descended back into Izuna's upraised hand and vanished into it -- with only her generosity saving those around her from getting doused just as she herself already had been.

"Oh, so now I've got your attention," she grumbled. Regardless, since all eyes were on her, she supposed she might as well take advantage of that while she could. So, furrowing her brow and shooting an irritable glare at everybody around her, she cleared her throat, and then...

"Ehem! Outta the way, small fry! I'm gettin' inside before I freeze my ass off and there's nothin' any of you can do to stop me!"

...Nobody seemed to have a problem with those terms, and so, dripping and shivering, the indignant aquatic girl strode through the parted sea of people in front of her, and into the courtyard, leaving behind a trail of rapidly-freezing droplets in her wake. It was only once she was out of the crowd that she realized...

Wait... wasn't that like, the worst first impression ever? Oh god, what if they realized --

She shook her head and slapped her scaled cheeks, dislodging this panicked line of thought before it could take hold.

No, no. Not going there. It's fine, Izuna. Everything's fine. You didn't mention the dragon this time, and there's only one person here who knows about that anyway. Just pretend it didn't happen. It didn't. Happen.

Right. Much better. Right now, there were more important things to worry about anyway. Like where the hell the door was, or if they had any towels. Another gust of wind blew across the courtyard, and Izuna sneezed as the shivers returned in full force.

Ugh... Man, Hokkaido friggin' sucks.

Aethra didn't know how long she stood there, stock still, before she found herself moving. She wasn't sure why, but to even her own surprise, her feet carried her closer to old ivy-clad tavern, rather than back into the forest from whence she'd come. It wasn't that she expected to be welcomed here -- of that much, she was sure. But... After seeing that the others had kept their promises, she felt ashamed of herself for considering running away. They had come so far, and... well, even if they hated her for it, a part of her wanted them to know the truth. That she was still alive -- that she still had a reason to live. Those who had once been her friends deserved to know that much, at least -- to have some closure.

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she reached out, and took hold of the door. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and then gave it a gentle push inward, but even as it moved aside, she once again found herself suddenly rooted to the spot. Try though she might, she couldn't seem to bring herself to take a single step over the threshold. But, as fate would have it, at that moment, a gust of wind blew the door the rest of the way back, revealing the occupants of the tavern to Aethra -- and revealing her to them.

Standing in the doorway, she appeared as a figure all wrapped up in her ragged black cloak and the similarly tattered gray dress she wore beneath it. She leaned upon her thin staff of black wood, atop the head of which was mounted the pommel of a broken sword, hunching over so that the brim of her hood would hide her eyes from view a little longer. Yet, from underneath the mantle, her long, messy silver-grey hair spilled out in streams, and the light spilling out through the doorway cast her bone-white horns into stark relief.

Her ragged appearance and hunched, unnatural posture coupled with her hair to give her the aspect of a withered, ominous crone -- but when she at last spoke, the clear and soft voice that emanated from under her hood could only have belonged to a fair young woman.

"...P-please excuse my intrusion... May I come in?"
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