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8 days ago
Current Even if your RP partner had nothing else to do and only came to browse, or reply elsewhere, is that such a terrible thing? ^_^ I feel it's better not to take it to heart.
10 days ago
It's worth the nerves to ask a person if they wish to RP with you if you end up having a good chemistry together. If you do end up rejected, odds are your writing styles wouldn't have clicked anyways.
1 mo ago
~Damaged does not mean broken~
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1 mo ago
The Lannisters also prefer Purple at their weddings.
1 mo ago
I tend to find highschool settings very restrictive, even with exciting bits like crime fighting, fantasy, mythology crammed in, because hey, it's *school* XD Even a teacher char is meh at best.
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I am trying ^^;
Vaba Do'Shurh'do- It is good to be brave

~ Khajiit Saying
There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.

~ J. R. R. Tolkien
Moonlight and Moonshine

by Shafty and Greenie

19th of Midyear, Early Morning

It was unclear how long Meg had been sitting out at the edge of the village by herself, staring off into the dark distance as she clutched a bottle of ale in her one hand, the other simply digging into the now cold sand. It was a relief she had remembered to bring her cloak along with her backpack, the latter now set to the side, one of the five various bottles of liquor empty- she hadn't been picky about what she had brought along, and she really didn't care whether the taste was appealing or not. As long as it made her numb. The already empty bottle of rum had been tossed to the side, looking forlorn and uncared for.

Eyes shifting from the shadows to the sky, Meg found herself gazing at Masser and Secunda as if it was the very first time. Her hand left the sand, grains spilling as she lifted her arm and reached up towards them. What was it that J'raij would call them? It took her a good moment to remember. “Jone an’ Jode.” Barely a whisper, her voice still managed to break the silence, and she found she didn't care for the sound of it. The lip of the bottle met her own and she took another swig before setting it down between the knees of her outstretched legs.

Still the faces showed themselves to her, no matter how much she tried to push them to the side. Her father, Marne, Sylven. The Greymane and the Battle-Born. The farmers she would work for. The Jarl in Dragonsreach. All dead. The streets of Whiterun had been painted red in blood with only automatons making their way through the corpses. Jaraleet in a room before a crying, tortured man, face blank as he prepared yet again to extract the truth. Gregor and an army of undead ruthlessly killing everyone in their sight. Her nightmare plagued her, even as her eyes remained open. And then there was the conversation when she had just been about to leave her tent. Once more she felt the stinging in her eyes, the lump in her throat. She hurt him, hadn't she?

“Fuck it all.” She brought the bottle up again and took another gulp.

Sevari plopped himself down next to Meg, uncaring if she wanted company or not. If she wished to be alone, she could scream it in his face and he’d move on no more damaged than he came. But there was no screaming, not even any looking at each other. The revelation from the night before still weighed heavy on Sevari’s conscience, pressing him down harder than anybody he had ever killed. In a way, he killed Latro, or whatever semblance of peace the young man was trying to cling onto before he crashed into his life like a bull.

He brought his bottle to his lip and tipped it back, closing his eyes, only to find it dry. He grunted, tossing the bottle to the side and he took the fuller one from Meg’s hand, not offering but not protesting. He gulped down the ale and handed it back, wiping his mouth off on his forearm. “Can’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question, or an explanation of why he’d come, it was just a statement. He lit a cigar, puffed on it a bit, and added a harsh whisper, “Can’t ever fucking sleep.”

Blinking in surprise at the sudden appearance of the Ohmes-Raht Khajiit, Meg was barely able to register when the bottle had left her hand and when it returned. She vaguely wondered if it was a khajiiti thing to be so quiet and sneaky, despite how large he was in comparison to the others she'd seen in her years. The Nord hadn't expected company as she drank herself to a near death, but she wasn't about to shoo him away either; she didn't quite have the mind for that right now. Pressing the bottle to her lips once more, Meg took a long gulp before setting in next to her, digging the bottle down in the sand so it stayed put while still in reach of Sevari.

"See things y'don' wanna?" she muttered after a moment of silence. Finally turning her head his way, Meg was able to make out his features due to the light of the moons, and it was clear he was as burdened as she felt, though what might be bothering him she had no way of knowing. "Or... jus' like tha'?" Her teeth pressed against each other, lips pulled tightly as she looked back to the distant sea of dunes. It seemed whatever reprieve had been sent their way after the prison break was long gone.

“Seen a lot.” He nodded, puffing on his cigar again and the smoke was coming from a Bosmer village near the southwestern coast. Him and his boys were investigating rumors of what the Thalmor and their sympathizers were up to in the jungles and- “What about you? I’ve never seen you so dour.”

"Me?" For a moment Meg felt a hint of panic and perhaps even a little dread, but it seemed to leave as soon as it came. What was the need to hide what she felt anymore? Everything she thought she knew was cracked and broken- there was no need to pretend to be happy. "Bad dreams..." She bit down on her lip, hard enough that it was painful though the skin didn't break. "Didja know... the Dwemer're in Skyrim too? I didn'."

A harsh breath left her lips and her hand tightened around the neck of the bottle she had reached out to drink from again. "I saw 'em, Pa, my family, Whiterun... all dead, like in Imperial city." She stopped and pulled at the bottle that she had only just set into the sand, and in no time it was empty. "Shit." Her breaths were coming quickly and she needed relief. Tossing the now useless thing to the side without a thought, she reached for her pack and grabbed onto the first drink her hands fell on, still unsure of what it was. "I saw him... Jaraleet... doin' wha' he does t’get answers. I saw Gregor..." She stopped, struggling to open the bottle, unable to continue with her words.

“I knew.” He said, to answer Meg’s question about the Dwemer and grabbed the bottle, gently taking it from her struggling hands. “I knew about Jaraleet too. A man sticks to what he does best. It’s a rough world, it makes rough men.”

He grunted as he popped the cork free and handed it to Meg, “If it is any consolation,” he began, sighing with the words because he knew it wouldn’t be, “He didn’t choose it.”

At least it wasn’t for him. He never chose any of it. But somewhere along the line, he decided to start. “If you think Jaraleet is a bad man, Meg, I’m sorry. I’m sure there’s plenty orphans that think the same of me.” Sevari looked out over the dunes, moonlit and lifeless. Peaceful like a sleep without dreams. “The sad truth of it all is that the world needs people like me and Jaraleet.”

"I- I don' think he's a bad man! I don' think you're a bad man! I don'- I... I dunno wha' t'think." Her hand was shaking as she held the bottle tightly, eyes now wet, once again remembering the conversation she'd had before stumbling out here. Sniffling, she took a gulp of the drink, eyes shutting tightly against the taste- she'd never had something that tasted so strong before. Maybe it would help numb the pain, whatever it was.

"He told me tonight. Of all nights... tonight. Why... why? An'- an’ then he said..." She shook her head before stuffing the bottle in the sand. Unable to stop herself, she pulled her knees up under her chin and started rocking. "I know I ain' the best, smartest… I don’ talk fancy, I know I do stupid shit. Jus'..." She sniffled again and roughly wiped her eyes. "I'm not a fuckin' child. Why didn' he just tell me? Why lie?" Her mouth trembled as she turned to face the khajiit man. Her eyes were still wet yet demanding. “Why didn’ you lie?”

“Because, I know what I am.” Sevari said, he patted Meg’s hand, “Judgement does not bother me until it comes from the Gods themselves.”

"I wouldn've judged," Meg replied plaintively, having a hard time not spilling her tears and eventually just giving up, the hot trails of salty water quickly cooling down in the cold desert night. Once more she rocked back and forth, her bottle nestled against her after she was done taking a rather large swig. "I never did, no' even when I was a li'l kid. Not for J'raij, not Jaraleet, not you..." She sniffled, shaking her head. "Maybe tha's why y'all think I'm stupid." Her eyes narrowed and she actually laughed, though it lacked humour and was filled with disgust instead. Was that was Gregor was thinking the night she tried to ask him if he'd been the one to kill Nblec? That she was just a stupid little girl? He sure wasn’ wrong.

"Didju know Gregor was a necromancer too? Ya seem y'know everythin'. Jaraleet sure as fuck did."

“He did.” Sevari nodded, “I did. I was going to kill him in the prison. I was going to blow the back of his head out and leave his dark knowledge all over the wall behind him.”

Sevari sighed, eyes closed as he took the bottle and swigged from it, placing it back between him and Meg. He looked at her and it pained him to know she felt that way about herself. The way she reminded him so much of La’Vashara only laid itself over the pain and added to the crushing grip around his chest. “Meg, look at me.” He said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. When her wet, red eyes were on his, he laid a hand on her other shoulder, “Don’t you ever call yourself stupid for not holding judgement.”

He squeezed her shoulders lightly and carefully pulled her to him. As much as he would never admit it, the hug was for him too.

It was hard not to start crying some more, and even though a very faint part of her mind was telling her to toughen up and stop being such a baby, Meg refused to listen to it, shoulders shaking and breath heaving, sniffles continuous as she simply let out the torrent of drunken sorrow on the poor man in front of her. In hindsight she would end up hating herself for seeming so weak, but at the moment she felt exactly that. The barriers she had put up while talking to Jaraleet had cracked with drink and were now crumbling with Sevari's blunt words.

She finally managed to speak, though she didn't move away from the hug, unwilling to lose this surprising yet welcomed comfort. "Why didn' ya just do it then? Kill him?"

He shrugged, “As stupid and unbelievable as it sounds,” he shook his head, “No one let me.”

“But, no, Meg. You are not stupid, you are kind, tolerant, loving, curious,” he squeezed his arms around her just a hair for a second, “Everything I’m not. Everything I can never be now, because it’s too late. You’re all of that, but you’re not stupid.”

“Who called you stupid, made you feel like this?” He asked, a fatherly tone to his voice and a levity that was working itself to death to be heard in his voice, “I’ll punch them. Or I’ll hold them still while you do.”

A watery laugh escaped Meg and she finally looked up, wiping at her face as she did. "No one, no' really. Jus' kinda feels like it sometimes, y'know. An' maybe I make it too easy for others t'think tha'." She sighed softly and gulped some more of the strong alcohol, now getting used to the taste and enjoying the stinging sensation. She was feeling a little more peaceful now, relaxed even. Perhaps it was just the effect of all the alcohol now in her? "I don' think it's too late for ya, y'know? It's only too late when yer dead. Y'ain' dead yet." She paused and blinked, head tilted as she struggled to think. "He's dead now though... kinda ish? Liches are dead, righ'?" She raised her free hand. "No- wait- undead. Tha's the word."

The memory of his face made her shudder, and once again she lifted the bottle to her lips.

“He’s what?” Sevari’s voice came harsh and quiet. He tensed, feeling his heart skip a beat when he heard what Meg had said.

Unable to help herself when she heard the change in his voice, she found herself becoming rather still before speaking, her own voice rather small with a hint of trepidation. “He- uhm… did- did I say somethin’ wrong?”

“He’s…” he unfolded his arms from Meg and held her across from him, his brow cocked, “He’s a lich?”

Meg's mouth felt rather dry- she gulped a little before nodding, eyeing the large Khajiit to see if she was the one who was earning his ire. “I didn’ know anythin’ 'bout it 'til t'night!” Her hands fell away from the bottle for a second and she nearly dropped the liquid all over herself, barely managing to grab onto it again. “Nec- nercer- necromancer was bad 'nough, but he's a fuckin’ lich now.” Once more she shuddered and a look of fear crossed over her features, though it was two fold- she was wondering if she was not supposed to have told Sevari or something.

Well, she'd already blathered, there was no point stopping now. “He looked… dead. Like drained. An’, he was actin’ all diff. Like he reg-regretted everythin’ he'd done.” She paused to whet her whistle once more before continuing. “Jude an’ Gaius wan’ him gone. Gaius wan's him gone gone, dead. Erryone else said he gotta stay… me too.” The last part came out rather small once again. “I didn’ know wha’ t'say.” Her uncertainty was back, hands shaking as she held the bottle in her lap, looking down at it. Was she supposed to have said anything like this to him or not? He was part of the group, right?

“Good fucking Gods…” Sevari sat back on his elbows, looking gape-mouthed at the stars. How could this have happened without him knowing? How could he have let Gregor achieve this? He was more dangerous now than ever. “You stay away from him, Meg. Don’t even cast an eye his direction. If he even looks at you, you tell me and Jaraleet. You understand?”

Meg’s head slumped downward, chin pressed against her chest. He seemed… she didn’t know if it was fear or something else. Her hands were still clutching the bottle but she hadn’t taken a sip since she blurted out Gregor’s secret. “He didn’... seem dangerous though…” She blinked and peeked at Sevari, hoping to maybe reassure the khajiit man… or perhaps she was simply trying to reassure herself. “He kinda seemed… sad? I dunno… I dun think he’s gonna be hurtin’ anyone… ‘sides… even if I said anythin’ t’Jaraleet, they’re frien’s. He… he [i]knew from ‘fore, didn’ tell me, didn’ tell no one. Kinda feel bad, y’know? Like I wasn’ trusted or sommat.” Now she brought the bottle to her lips, tilting her head back as she drank deeply, ignoring the little that escaped the sides of her mouth, lettin them trickle down her chin to splash on her shirt.

“Meg,” Sevari said, watching her quaff her drink, “Meg.”

He frowned deeply and tipped the bottle down from her lips, prying her fingers away from it until he had it in his own hands, “Meg, stop with that. It’s not going to fix anything. You might pass out drunker than shit for any amount of time, but trust me, whatever demons you have weighing you down are going to be waiting patiently when you wake up.”

“Tell me what I can do.” Sevari said, “Anything.”

For a second Meg returned the frown, but then her bottom lip trembled and she looked to her empty lap, hands shaking as she dropped them to fill the hollow. She shook her head, once more feeling water fill up in her eyes and trickle down her face, the hot tears cooling down in the desert night air. "I dunno," she finally replied, voice breaking so that she stopped herself from saying anything more beyond those two words. What he said was true, but... She brought a hand up to her cheeks and wiped at them, though it did little more than wet the rest of her face. There was so much that didn't make sense to her even if it seemed clear to the rest of the world.

"Hurts righ' here," she muttered after a moment, rubbing a fist at where her heart lay beneath her clothes and flesh. "How d'ya make tha' go 'way then? Knowin' the truth didn' help shit."

Sevari shook his head, “Never did.” He said lamely, almost apologetic, “Never will, maybe. The truth needs to be known though. There’s no sense in laboring under a smiling lie if it means forsaking who you are or the truth of your circumstances.”

“Gregor was on this path far before we met him and this was going to happen whether he was with us or not.” Sevari frowned, taking a hypocritical swig from the bottle before cocking his arm back and sending the bottle sailing far down the dunes. “We’re going to have to deal with it. Jaraleet knew, I knew. But there wouldn’t be any good coming from letting the news spread like fire or we’d all be charred.”

“Accept things as they are, Meg,” Sevari said firmly, looking at her, “But never decide that they have to be that way always. Always look forward, if life is a battle then hardship is the enemy. Be a step ahead. Two steps ahead. And when you’re cornered with nowhere to go and shit piles up,”

Sevari frowned, “Get a fucking shovel. It’s good to be brave, Meg. If life’s a battle, it’s not about good or bad. It’s wrong or right. It’s right to win.” Sevari chuckled at his own stupid words and it felt as if he was partly saying them to himself. “Fuck losing.”

"Fuck losin’," she repeated. Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, her drunk mind was trying and failing to analyze her thoughts. What was winning and what was losing in this current situation, with everyone upset and unable to trust the other person? What more was hidden that would eventually come out to the surface? She herself was finding more solace in the company of bottles and someone she had previously thought had hated her than with her own companions of two months.

Meg brought her hands up to her face, palms pressed tightly against her closed eyes, fingers digging into her dark hair and pressing into her scalp. She was out of tears for the time being, feeling hollow and cried out. It's good to be brave. Maybe if she kept reminding herself, she would eventually be brave. There had to be something good that came out of this, otherwise… No, there has t’be. She’d have to dig around to find it perhaps, but maybe that was something worthy. She wanted to win, yes, but she also wanted good… good that was something real and not just falsity and lies.

Eventually she spoke up, though her eyes remained hidden behind her hands. "Will y'be comin' t'Skyrim with us?"

Sevari cleared his throat and shifted where he sat, sniffing, “What I mean to say, Meg, is that wallowing like this won’t solve this. You have nothing to prove to anybody, you proved it to me that you’re willing to die for your friends when I had to snatch you and that bleeding Argonian idiot off the Gilane streets.” He smiled at Meg, “You only have yourself to prove yourself to. And, yes, I’m going to Skyrim. I have to see if there’s anybody left in… those I know.”

“Aye…” she replied after a moment, letting her hands slide down from her face to land in her lap once more. She took another deep breath and let it out, nodding to his words even though she still looked rather miserable and lost. “I'mma havta see how t'get 'bout doin’ that.” She bit down on her bottom lip for a moment before allowing herself a weak smile in his direction. “Glad you'll be comin’ along, I like talkin’ to ya.” She hesitated for the smallest moment before tottering up on her knees and reaching over, giving the Ohmes-Raht a heartfelt if somewhat wet and clumsy hug.

Sevari snorted softly, wrapping his arm around the drunk Nord he’d somehow come to have a kinship with. “If you need help getting about to doing that all you need is ask, Meg.” He patted her on the shoulder before writhing about in her arms to face her, holding her out in front of him, “But if you lose me in this godsdamn fool’s errand we’ve all taken on, and gods forbid have only Jaraleet with you, you keep those words close.”

He smiled at her, “It is good to be brave. Now, come on,” he got to his feet, gently pulling Meg up with him and holding her still when she leaned a tad too far to the left, then the right as he held her steady, “We’ve got some sleep to catch up on.”

“Aye, aye,” Meg mumbled in agreement, allowing herself to be steadied; even in her drunken state she knew full well that she was near toppling over and landing on her face. She managed to grab her pack with one hand as she clutched at Sevari with her other one. “Thankies for… er… all.” She attempted to wave her hand to motion towards anything but failed, hand weighed down by the pack she was holding and the bottles still inside. “Good t'be brave… aye.”

That would be for tomorrow though, when she would be feeling the consequences of tonight's overindulgence. For now sleep beckoned, and a heavy lidded Meg was more than happy to enter its embrace.
Fantasy (low or high) has always been my favourite genre to write, whether in a roleplay or in general. I just like the idea of different worlds, creatures, magic, things that are not directly related to real life, something that fuels the imagination.

In that sense, slice of life is probably my least favourite genre to write. It becomes mundane quite quickly and, well, I'm already living life ;D I want something more from my entertainment.
A New Friend

13th Sun's Height 4E208, Evening

If it had merely been a year ago, Megana knew quite well that she would have been grumbling about the warmer weather of Sun's Height. However, this was a cool blessing now that they no longer had to contend with the Alik'r desert. There were many who she could clearly tell were cold, and even she had to wear her old dark clock over her new grey and green trimmed tunic, along with the scarf she had been gifted. Still, this was a boon and she wasn't going to complain. The air smelled and felt familiar, but it wasn't just that... it was knowing she was finally back home. The underlying stress and fear for her family's fate was still there, but something about being back in her homeland was rekindling a fire in her that had flickered to a mere ember in the last couple of months. Falkreath itself had been a place she frequented in her travels with J'raij, but the same could not be with where she found herself. As she had told Sevari weeks ago, she wasn't normally the sort to run headfirst into trouble, and the Reach spelled all sorts of that.

Raising her head up towards the sky, the Nord woman took a deep breath and smile, enjoying the scent in the air. Letting out a happy sigh, she looked around at her companions who were in various stages of unpacking and putting up tents. Righ', 'nough dawdlin' an' time t'help out. Sleeping under the stars wasn't something new to her, but she was sure someone else would be happy enough to spend the night in something she helped put up. Pushing her bangs away from her face and behind her ears, she looked around to see if she could find anyone-

"Well you're certainly looking chipper." The voice was a now familiar one around the camp, enough that Megana knew it was Sirine even before she looked her way. Like most of the others, the Imperial Redguard seemed affected by the cooler temperatures, a short dark cloak around her shoulder, the hood pulled a little over her head, though not quite enough to hide her hair, which seemed to have grown the slightest bit since it had been trimmed. It seemed she too was now sporting different clothes, a dark green tunic over a pair of no nonsense woolen pants, tucked in a pair of dark boots. A glint at her throat showed the gold coin that Meg had spotted more than once; it always had her wondering why someone would ruin a good and proper coin that could have been spent; now it was useless. Maybe it was a rich person thing?

She looked away from the coin, green eyes meeting Sirine's brown ones. While she wouldn't necessarily call the former pirate a friend, she was certainly an ally now and had been doing her best to help the group during their journey north. Meg still found herself intimidated by the woman, but it had lessened in the passing days, and seeing Sirine in a much milder state of mind than when she had first come to them put the Nord a little at ease. "Yer righ'," she agreed with a grin, walking over to the woman. Without asking she grabbed a few of the tent poles that were laying about on the ground.

"Bein' here's like..." As she worked to help Sirine, who seemed surprised but more than happy with the help, Meg found herself latching onto a simile that anyone in their group could understand. "... like drinkin' water after bein' parched in the desert. It's nice bein' back... well, home, y'know? I mean, this here ain' exactly where I lived, but... ya get what I mean?"

"Hm, I do believe I can understand the sentiments." Meg looked up at the other woman who had a small smile on her face. It wasn't quite the grin Meg would see Sirine break into around Zaveed and Sevari- something that had completely changed Meg's perception of the 'stern and scary' former pirate- but it was enough to make her feel further comfortable with the woman.

"What 'bout you?" she decided to ask after a few minutes, fueled by her confidence. "What's home for ya?"

There was a stifled laugh before Sirine spoke. "What, I haven't given you my whole 'the sea is my home' speech? Poor thing, you're missing out."

"I though' that was jus', like, somethin' sea people liked t'say," Meg admitted after a moment, rubbing her nose sheepishly.

"Oh, heh, it certainly is. Goodness knows Zaveed and I have spouted that line plenty of times... but the sentiment remains. You seem comfortable here, it shows clearly to a pair of eyes that aren't your own. Me on the other hand..." She gestured at Meg who seemed very much at ease with setting up a tent that wasn't her own. "The opposite. The only time I was on land for more than a couple of weeks before this dwemer problem was when I was a child, a few years in Gilane. Even then it was the last place I wished to be. The stillness of the ground left much to be wanted after the rocking of the sea."

"Tha' made me throw up more 'an once," Meg replied, her expression perturbed as she tried to imagine any sort of ease on a ship. "When we got to Gilane, I was sure I was never gonna be anythin' but green faced like an orc. No offence t'orcs. Jus', how can y'like your tum goin' up an' down in all ways?"

Sirine couldn't help but laugh out loud now, making no effort to hide her amusement. "You get used to it, landlubber. In my case, my mother gave birth to me on a ship, so I had no choice in the matter. It’s almost a weakness, truth be told. Sleep comes much more easily when I can hear water in the distance.”

“The desert musta been hard for ya then.”

“You have no idea,” Sirine replied, the dryness in her voice easy to hear. “Then again, perhaps you do, seeing you so full of life now.”

Meg couldn’t help but grin once more, her face reddening at the former pirate’s words. “Y’think so?” She hadn’t realized her joy at returning to the land of her birth would be so noticeable.

“It’s as easy to see as this damn cold is to feel.” Her voice was dryer still, but the look in her eyes was soft. “Don’t feel embarrassed or put on the spot. It’s not a bad thing. There’s a certain strength in being able to show that which you feel. If anything, I think I might find myself a little envious of you.”

“But yer strong,” Meg argued. Nearly finished with her self imposed task, she paused in her work to stand straight and cross her arms over her chest. “Y’can fight with the toughest, y’saved yer brother from the prison-”

“True, but not by myself. Like I said, strength comes in different forms, and just because I know one way doesn’t mean I know it all. Needing others may seem weak but… a single finger is weaker than five forming a fist, no? I had my friends, they made me stronger. Perhaps one day I shall learn the strength you possess.” Sirine smiled once more, and Meg watched her fiddle with the coin around her neck not for the first time.

“Why’d y’wear that coin?” she asked curiously, unable to help herself.

For a moment Sirine seemed surprised and even a little abashed; Meg was about to tell her it was fine if she didn’t reply, but the Imperial Redguard spoke up. “It reminds me that trust and faith in the right person is worth the risk.” She was quiet for a good while after that, enough that the Nord was surprised when she continued to speak. “And what of that amulet of Mara peeking from beneath that pretty scarf?” The quiet moment of contemplation was gone and Meg could see the teasing look on the other woman’s face. “Who’s the lucky lad?”

“Er… no one really.” She scratched the back of her neck, feeling awkward. “It’s a reminder too, of one of m’close friends. I used t’travel round an’ go treasure huntin’ with him. Met him when I was a kid in Riften…” She shrugged a shoulder as she lifted up the amulet to look at it, fingers almost stroking it. “J’raij was a thief bu’ so was I, though I didn’ know tha’ ‘bout him ‘til I met him again once I was grown an’ on my own. He gave this t’me on one’ve our expeditions, tol’ me t’give it t’someone…”

“You haven’t though.” Sirine pointed out the obvious, though her tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Meg looked up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, letting the amulet slip from her fingers as she found a pair of sympathetic dark eyes looking into her own. “You loved him, didn’t you? And I’m willing to bet he’s now…” There was a slight pause.

“He’s dead,” Meg supplied, looking down at her boots, scuffing the ground with one until it kicked at a pebble that flew a little distance away.

“My condolences,” Sirine replied. The hand on Meg’s shoulder squeezed before releasing her. “I can sympathize, I’ve felt that pain, though it has been a long time since I’ve loved a person. Loss though… I think most of us here are a little too familiar with that, hm? That’s the way of the world we live in. People come and go like the changing of the tides. Well… most people. Some stay, some we follow… those we grow close to.”

“Tha’s this group for me.” The somber look on Meg’s face shifted slightly, making place for a little positivity. “At least, a few of the people here, anyway.”

“Anyone you’d be willing to give an amulet of Mara too?”

Meg smiled but shook her head. “No’ this one. This one ain’ for tha’ no more. ‘Sides… I think I still gotta whole lot t’learn bout love.”

“It’s a lifelong process,” Sirine replied, though she then waved her hand dismissively. “But don’t take my word for it. I’m by no means an expert on that field of life.”

It didn’t take much longer for Meg to finish setting up the tent with Sirine helping out in the end. She couldn’t help but still feel a little awkward around what felt like a much more experienced woman, even when it was obvious the she was more learned in some thing than the former pirate was. “There we go,” she said, looking at her handiwork. “All done, y’should be fine.”

“I appreciate the aid,” Sirine returned, smiling at the younger woman. She grabbed her bedroll and tossed it inside before picking up her backpack next. This she was rather careful with, setting it inside in a much more gentle fashion before ducking inside. “Come along.”

Meg blinked, not having expected an invitation to enter; she hesitated for a second before following inside, where she found Sirine was loosening the drawstrings of her backpack and fiddling about inside. Not feeling it was polite to watch, she looked away at the sparse area, admiring her handiwork. “Yer brother,” she started after a moment, “he didn’ come with us.”

“No, he didn’t,” Sirine agreed. The sound of rummaging through the pack ceased and when Meg looked over, she saw the other woman was looking at nothing in particular, eyes lowered and hands slack. “He decided to stay with the Alik’r village to recuperate, and from there, wherever the winds take him.”

“Jus’ seems…” Meg hesitated, wondering if she should continue.

“Go on.” Sirine’s eyebrow rose, waiting. “I don’t bite, usually.”

“Well…” Her voice trailed before she finally continued in a hurry. “Jus’, ya went through so much t’find him an’ save him, but now yer here an’ he’s there an’... well, would’n y’both wanna be together?”

“Ah.” Sirine’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Sometimes when you love someone, when you care about them, you have to learn to let them go as well. Easier said than done.” Meg watched as the Imperial Redguard’s hands tightened around the lip of the backpack. “There are still times I wish I’d had the courage to push him out of the nest sooner than this- all of the pain he’d had to endure…” She shook her head quickly, as if dispelling her thoughts. “Whatever happened, happened and lead me to this moment.”

“The gods’re somethin’ tricky in the way they do thing,” Meg commented.

“Fuck them,” Sirine replied simply, her hands loosening their grip before once more fiddling about inside once more. “I don’t want to give them credit for the paths I’ve taken. My choices were mine, the good times, the trying times, the hellish times. And even now, whatever peace I have found… it’s due to my choice, not theirs.” Meg watched as the former pirate pulled out a couple of rolls of paper first, and then two wooden quills along with a pot of ink. “My apologies for those blasphemous words.” A chuckle escaped Sirine. “I can tell by the look on your face you don’t quite agree, and that’s fine. We all have our little biases for and against.

“Enough of that though.” Sirine grabbed the items that she had taken out and stood up, approaching Meg, who was looking at her with curiosity and barely hidden apprehension. “I noticed on the way here that you like to draw out maps as well as write, which I have to commend. Writing is something I have indulged in since I was a child and believe me, it helps at times to calm oneself down, simply let your thoughts flow.” She pressed a roll of paper into Meg’s hand before slipping in a quill as well as the inkpot. “However, your writing is, for the lack of a better word, atrocious.”

The Nord woman sputtered, especially when Sirine let loose a chuckle. “It doesn’t have to remain that way,” the former pirate added once she had finished displaying her amusement. “I can help you with your writing and spelling, if you wish. I taught my little brother, Bakih, when we were both quite young, as well as other crewmates and underlings of mine. If someone was part of my crew, I wanted them to be literate. That and… well, I quite enjoy teaching. So, what-”

“That’d be great!” Meg’s look of shock and then embarrassment was replaced by surprised enthusiasm, eyes shining as she looked from Sirine to the paper, eyes shifting back and forth. “That’s- thankies!” Without thinking about it, the Nord woman reached out, wrapping her arms around a very shocked Sirine, giving her a hug that was very much not expected, seeing how the former pirate was standing as stiff as a board, a weak laugh escaping her as she finally extracted herself from the embrace.

“Goodness, you remind me of… well, never mind that now.” A little flushed but seeming happy, Sirine nodded at Meg. “First lesson, don’t scrunch the paper like that in your fist. Treat your supplies with respect. Second lesson will have to wait as I’m sure there are more important tasks to partake in at the moment. Dawn however is the best time to find me.” She smiled, still not a grin but a much more at ease smile than Meg had ever seen her deliver. “I look forward to this.”

“Aye, me too!” Meg grinned in return, loosening her grip on the roll of paper as instructed while taking care to hold the quill and inkpot properly. “Thanks so much, I’mma make sure t’come tomorrow morn!”

“Mhm,” Sirine replied, finding it hard to keep the smile off her face. It was strange how something so small and almost petty made the Nord woman glow like Magnus itself was shining down on her. Are you really one to think such things, Sirine? Who is wearing what is nestled against your throat? “On your way then, student of mine.” She made shooing motions with her hand.

The warm and wholesome feeling remained even as Megana left her tent. There was something to be said about doing things for others without wanting anything in return. Was this how Zaveed had felt when helping her? She would have to ask him, though she expected nothing more than a teasing non reply slathered with charm in return.

For the time being though, she settled down to write a few notes herself, making good on what she had told Meg.

“It seems I have made a new friend.”
I wrote something :D
I normally see who the GM is and check out other roleplays they may have been involved in GMing. I have to admit I'm a little (or a lottle ^^;) spoiled and picky after being GM'd by the lovely @Dervish. If the person isn't someone I know, or I've been told to be a little wary, I'll probably scrutinize the details like an evil stepmother looking through Cinderalla's list of chores for a spec of something that was left unattended.

I like to see a little plot and premise even in the interest check so that I know the GM has a plan of what they want for the roleplay rather than just scoping for people to join when they only have an inkling of an idea. At the same time something that is just a lore dump will turn me off. I want to be interested and not feel like I'm reading up something for a history exam.

I don't think I've ever been turned off by an OOC after being enthusiastic about the Interest check. What is most important to me is the GM's dedication and enthusiasm, which you can normally gauge by how active they are, how they communicate with those interested, and the time and effort they've put in their work.
I haven't read a manga in eons, but if I have to pick a favourite, it would be Akatsuki no Yona <3

As for my favourite anime, it's hard to pick one, so

1. Inuyasha due to nostalgia
2. Ghost Hunt <3
3. Twelve Kingdoms
4. Samurai Champloo

Thank you so so so so much!!!!!!!
I love it so much <3
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