Avatar of meri
  • Last Seen: 1 yr ago
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    1. meri 3 yrs ago
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1 yr ago
happy valentine's day!! hope it's lovely for all of you (especially my fellow aromantics <3)
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2 yrs ago
shoutout to pears best fruit easy
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2 yrs ago
eclipse!!!!
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2 yrs ago
thinkin bout how parrots live to like 80. good for them
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2 yrs ago
🎵my name is doctor worm...hello, how are you, i'm doctor worm...i'm interested in things...i'm not a real doctor but i AM A REEEAALL WORM I AM AN ACTUUUAALL WORM 🎵
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Most Recent Posts

@Sylvan

Hi! No rush, but do you have an idea of when you're going to be able to post?
Skagi was used to being watched.

It was their job, after all—the more eyes on them, the more coins in their pouch—yet they couldn't help but feel out of place amid such opulence. Eyes were what kept them centered on stage, the emotions within reminding him that his audience was just as mortal as he. The glimmer of excitement, the glow of fascination, the glitter of suspense. The sharp light of disgust. Looking around, he rubbed the seam of flesh and stone that warped their arm. Any eyes the figures above may have had were obscured by their masks. Skagi knew his mother had friends in high places, but this… this was beyond the occasional favor from a lord.

Trying to get a better grasp of their surroundings, they met the eyes of one of the few people without a mask: a human in priestly vestments. They looked away quickly. The man's gaze was eerily neutral. Skagi was suddenly intensely aware they had no idea where they were.

Quickly diverting their focus to the tables, he was greeted by a beautiful assortment of instruments just a few paces away. Everything from finely carved piccolos to richly lacquered violins were displayed; the elegant slope of a harp felled a shadow on the table from behind. His fingers itched to play them. He hadn't even had the chance to do warm-ups before he was whisked away. The blindfold had felt tight enough to sand down the stone of his head.

No sense in exploring this strange place alone, though. There were so many people—he would do well to forge some sort of alliance early, avoid being an outlier.

Turning to one of the fourteen beside him, they smiled facetiously. “Kind of them to give us such a warm welcome, isn't it?
@meri Your character is approved! I'm a huge fan of him. A couple of questions: Would you be comfortable with me bringing in some characters of his backstory during the story of the RP? I am trying to think of a reason why they would be picked for the Hatching. Would their mother have some higher up connections? Would he go willingly if his mother told him some guards were taking him away for something important she can't disclose? And, mostly for clarity's sake, are his pronouns he/they?


Totally, bringing in characters from backstories is always fun! As for the Hatching, I think connections through his mother could totally work. They trust her more than anyone else, so he'd absolutely go if she told him to. I was originally thinking since he travels so much he may have found the site of the Hatching and somehow finagled their way in there, but it would definitely make more sense if they had a reason like you suggested to be there. And yes, their pronouns are he/they. I know multiple pronouns can be confusing sometimes, so I'll try to keep it as clear as possible who I'm referring to with antecedents and whatnot once we get into the roleplay :)
Would a hybrid character be okay? After looking at the races, I think a half-human half-oread could be cool. They were probably raised by the human parent since oread society wouldn't look kindly upon a half-human, insular as it is.
@Duthguy@meri@saltcares@Cleveraptor@Emma@Loksfjoer@hanzo

I'm working on the character sheet as we speak. It should be done relatively soon, but I have to eat lunch!

Also, hi Meri! I just realized I've seen you in Festive's rp. Haha!


Lol yep! Seems we have similar taste :)
Waves in nerd

Hey folks, going to start putting together my first post but don't think it'll be quite ready tonight. Thanks for having me!


Looking forward to it! The more the merrier :)
JULIETTE GAGNEUX





Recorded Time of Death 00:29


Music rattles in Juliette’s teeth as she dives under the table, narrowly dodging the jagged glass. Bastien broke the bottle shoving her across the counter and seems rather intent on doing a hell of a lot worse than that now. He brandishes the neck of it like a knife. For all of his flaws, he always was a resourceful son of a bitch. The lights of the club refract garishly through both the glass and his glasses. Speaking of flaws—who wears their glasses in a bar fight?

Recorded Time of Death 00:23


“Stop!” yells Helen. Her voice is drowned out by the music. “Jesus Christ, you guys, stop!”

Juliette scrambles out from under the table, grabbing a chair by the leg and flinging it at Bastien. It barely scrapes the tabletop before clattering to the ground. He smirks. She swallows. Shit. Shit. Stupid cheap-ass chairs! He vaults over the table and swings again. She ducks, but not fast enough—the bottle catches in her hair, snagging and ripping out a curly red chunk. It takes all her will not to scream.

Recorded Time of Death 00:12


Before she can even react, he grabs the back of her head and slams her face into the wall. Once. Twice. Helen is definitely screaming now—Juliette isn’t sure if it’s the pounding of blood in her ears or the howling of her best friend, but she can’t hear the music anymore. Deliriously, she laments this. And then finds it funny. And then laments it again. Bastien cracks her head against the wall again. A hysterical laugh fizzes in her chest; it is trapped when he starts to choke her.

Recorded Time of Death 00:04


The moment his hand closes around her throat, a horrible noise rips through her skull. Worse than the screaming, worse than the blood, worse than the, ha, music—it reaches a fever pitch in seconds. Brutal microphone feedback. She meets Helen’s eyes over Bastien’s shoulder. They’re both screaming now, Juliette’s voice trapped, Helen’s rushing free, and for a moment she can imagine they’re singing together. Just like the old days. Just like. Just…

Recorded Time of Death 00:03


Silence. Perfect silence while her senses fade in, processing stimuli one at a time. Pressure to the neck, numbness of the lips, sweat running down her forehead—blood flow to the brain is being cut off. She brings her knee up into her attacker’s balls, hard, and he cries out. Doesn’t release. Okay. He hasn’t restrained her hands. She shoves a finger into his eyeball, carving towards her with the nail. Another scream. Still doesn’t let go. Who is this guy?

Recorded Time of Death 00:10


She goes limp for a moment, grimacing at the extra pressure on her neck, but achieves a better angle from which to headbutt him. Which she does. That gets him off her. Air rushes through her, forcing a coughing fit. She falls to her knees and tries to recover, tries not to feel like she’s going to cough up a lung, and surveys the scene before her. Looks like he hit a chair on the way down. Probably not dead. Not that she’s going to wait around to find out. Then there’s a touch at her back—she whirls around, swinging blindly—

“Stop! For the love of God, Jules, stop, it’s me!”

She blinks hard, eyes watering. A final cough or two. The woman before her is tall, dark-haired, and blurred by a slimy sting of melting mascara. Juliette wipes the black gunk from her eyes and meets her gaze.

“Sorry,” she says. It sounds hollow, even to her.




The cold drum of rain is a blessed reprieve from the club. That many bodies packed into one place is suffocating—dancing produces just as much body heat as fighting. A pleasant shiver runs through Juliette as she drops her bag next to a bass guitar. It’s smothered in cat stickers. Charming. Helen—that’s the woman’s name, revealed through some questioning that was sure to convince her Juliette was either crazy or concussed, hopefully the latter—is saying something again. Juliette turns to her, watching her lock the door to the apartment with more force than is strictly necessary. “Sure, just, um, give me a minute. I have to go to the bathroom.”

Helen looks at her like she is, in fact, crazy, but that’s a problem for after briefing. She shoots her an apologetic smile that melts immediately into a wince. Yeah, she definitely needs to check on her jaw.

Setting out into the tiny apartment, it’s easy enough to locate the door to the bathroom and lock it before being questioned further. She fishes through the pockets of her jeans—black, bootcut, and covered in rhinestones. Tacky as all hell, but… well, at least her host knew how to catch people’s attention. Not that it worked out for her.

Locating a smartphone in her pockets, she unlocks it with the fingerprint scanner. It doesn’t take long to access the Director’s forum. She’s hopeless with technology, but she can follow directions. Strings of code flow from her mind to the screen in steady taps. Not so different from sequencing DNA, at the end of the day. The display goes black. Then, bright, warm, galvanizing:

"Welcome, Traveler 3599. Arrive at the coordinates 45.715103, 4.830390 to receive your first mission."
Howdy folks! I just dropped the newest chunk of lore. From here on, I will be checking to see if I have enough players. Once I have 3+ players, I will make an OOC post for this rp. If you are interested, either respond to this comment or give it a reaction of some sort.


Sounds good!
@Festive Awesome, looking forward to it!
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