User has no status, yet


Name: mnkee
Age: Twenty-two
Birthday: August 8th
Ethnicity: American
Location: Central Standard Time
Gender: Female
Major/Minor: Equine studies/Animal Science & Ag Economics
Occupation: Stable Hand
Languages: Fluent English
Preferred RP Section: Causal
RP Level: Low Advanced
Dedication Level: High
Biggest RP Pet Peeve: People who constantly write up half-assed posts
My Pets: 5 Boer goats, 1 Miniature Schnauzer/Beagle mix dog, 1 German Shepherd, 1 cat

β€œScars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going.” - David Rossi

  • Roleplaying/Writing
  • Raising goats
  • Photography
  • Online research

  • Lightning/Thunder
  • Tornadoes
  • Wasps
  • Emus
  • Ostriches

Obscure Interests:
  • Taxonomy (Scientific Classification)
  • Biodiversity
  • Genetics & Mechanics of Color
  • Medieval Warfare

  • God/Christianity
  • Animals/Nature
  • Wildlife conservation
  • Zoos
  • All things medieval
  • Strong female characters
  • Learning
  • Roleplaying/Writing
  • GIFs
  • Sweets
  • Barn work
  • Jeans and boots
  • Swimming

  • Bullies
  • Stereotypes
  • Hypocrites
  • Discrimination
  • Politics
  • Overexploitation of wildlife
  • Pesky bugs (Cockroaches, June bugs, mosquitos, etc.)
  • Geese

"She wasn't looking for a knight. She was looking for a sword." - Atticus

Rp's Currently Enjoying:

Characters Currently in Use:

Favorite Posts:

OMG Moments:

Other Places of Interest:

Upcoming Works:
  • The Mark of the Deceived - Dark Medieval Fantasy novel series where mankind is under threat by bloodthirsty demons, and their only saviors are not quite as they seem
  • Blurred Lines - Science Fantasy/Dystopian/Post-Apocalyptic novel series where animal-human hybrids, a byproduct of genetic modification gone wrong, have taken over the earth, leaving man with little choice but to adapt or die

β€œDamaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.” - Josephine Hart

Theme Song:

Headers - Colchester font, 100 pt. & 45 pt., #662D91 Gradient-Purple-V
Size of gif thumbnails - 200x200
Page layout based off of Lady Amalthea's template
Last updated: October 14, 2018

Most Recent Posts

Fyror Kildragon

There is no better test of a man's integrity
than his behavior when he is wrong.
- Marvin Williams

Location: La Canela Ship (Main Deck) - Sailing Northward
Skills: N/A

Now that he had his head on straight and matters of the heart were satiated for the time being, Fyror felt there was something else he had to do. Lacing his hands behind his back, he remained silent, politely allowing Marco and the unknown girl to finish their conversation. What exactly the two were saying was lost on him, as they were speaking in a language that was entirely foreign to him. He looked down at the ground for a moment, before lifting his gaze up to stare out at the open ocean. There was a certain weight, or perhaps weariness, to his expression, but apart from that, it was hard to decipher exactly what he was thinking or feeling.

He turned his gaze back to Marco when the man wrapped up his conversation and addressed him. Fyror glanced over at the girl as she walked off chuckling about something, before his attention quickly returned to the man before him. "I wish to apologize for my behavior. It was inappropriate and inconsiderate of me, particularly considering you saved my life," he stated with genuine remorse. It was evident to him that he had thrown wind to propriety and let emotions cloud his good judgment, and in the end, he had acted shamefully. No excuse in the book would justify his screw up. He was willing to man up, admit his mistake, and more importantly learn from it.

Alexandra Andonova

Shake it off little girl, dry your tears,
suck it up, and face your fears.
- Sai Marie Johnson

Location: Ville au Camp (Main House) - Room 102 (Library/Study)
Skills: N/A

Alexandra flinched a bit, shrinking back marginally, when James got angry. She glanced uncomfortably over at Bart before meeting James's agitated gaze again. She tried not to take his words personally, reminding herself that he was distressed and thus couldn't be entirely held liable for what he said. Admittedly though, it hurt that she was shut down so quickly when all she was trying to do was help. Not to mention the fact that she couldn't help that she had no earthly idea who or what a David Lo Pan was. She figured it must have more meaning to those of later centuries, or perhaps was specific to his timeline. Her lips thinned, and she nodded her head before stepping aside so he could go find a proper adult.

Her eyes were downcast until he left the room. Once he had, she took a deep breath, slipping the unopened envelope in her pocket before running her hands over her face. Time to suck it up and get the job done, she thought to herself. She let out a small sigh, before wearily turning back towards Bart. "I suggest ve check out Alicia's room. I believe that's where they vere last. See if ve can figure out for ourselves what is going on, at least I suppose until an Emendator can take over," she explained. It couldn't very well be a coincidence that Alicia disappeared right around the same time that Evelina did, but she decided to keep that notion to herself. No need to incite panic if he hadn't already put two and two together. Without another word, she then turned around and made to leave the room. If Bart wanted to tag along, then great. If he didn't--well, she guessed she would just have to do this thing alone then.
>TFW a chain reaction of unfortunate events seems to unfold after your character lets one rip. #GasOfDoom
Madam Mauve
Location: Shadowell Manor - Grand Vestibule (B8) β‡’ Breakfast Room
Skills: N/A
Hit Points: 3

Mauve's gaze remained steadily on Lord Ambesire. She ignored the voices that piped up around her. The others' thoughts and opinions mattered not to her, and in the end, they were inconsequential given the situation. She bit her lip as her gaze flitted slightly between the lord of the manor and the butler. She was feeling a little impatient to get answers but was also trying hard not to show it. She released her lower lip, mouth falling agape underneath her ornate mask. Had she heard them correct? They would be housed in the servant's quarters?! A small scoff left her lips before she could stop it. She shook her head lightly, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She would sooner brave the cold and the jaws of death itself than be associated with servants. With her lips pressed into a thin line and a look of displeasure in her dark blue eyes, she begrudgingly listened to what other unsavory clauses and conditions the man would surely have in store for them.

It was the last thing though that Lord Ambesire said that truly gave Mauve pause. A game of death and deceit, now is it? she thought, arching a black brow just as a glint came to her eyes. How quaint. Her gaze slowly moved back to the servant, as he addressed the group. She barely managed to not roll her eyes at the manservant's words, and she was about to walk off to do some exploring when she caught the man saying something to a Lady Analia. However her attention was soon diverted again, her inquisitive gaze whipping to the side when Cobalt addressed her. The corners of her lips pulled up into a smirk at his words. Assuming you're still alive by then, she thought to herself, but nevertheless gave him a courteous nod of her head in reply. She then watched as he followed the others into the next room over. Once he was out of sight, she glanced back over to the doors that Lord Ambesire and Jasper had left through. She considered going that way. In fact, she saw that two people had chosen that route. With a small sigh, she decided though to just go in the same direction as the rest of the horde.

She gracefully crossed the room, the fabric of her dress lightly brushing the ground as she took confident strides. She walked through the open door to enter the breakfast room in behind the others. She glanced around, taking in the sights, and she breathed in deeply to take in the scents of the food and drinks. She felt a pang of hunger within her, eyeing the food but hesitant to take any. After all, it would be easy enough for the Ambesire's to lace the appetizers with poison in order to rid them of their uninvited guests. She had a feeling that the lord would have no qualms against doing so. No, she would err on the side of caution and simply watch and wait to see first if the less prudent individuals dropped dead. A devilish smirk came to her obscured features as she saw the chair stealing doctor partake in the food. Oh how she would love to see that one drop dead. Her smirk grew as she brushed past him and over to the window that looked out at the courtyard.

- Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns & Roses

Location: Third Corridor off the Long Walk

Tristan frowned when Luna jumped. That's what he had been hoping to avoid, startling the princess. The corners of his lips pulled back up into a soft smile when she warmly returned his greetings. His brows rose a bit though at the question that followed. He supposed he shouldn't really be surprised by pleasantries, but nevertheless, it just seemed like an odd question, at least to him it did anyways. Call him old-fashioned, but he tended to just stick to the traditional 'how are you?'. "Uh, well, I suppose I could have slept better," he stammered, before glancing back over his shoulder to give Fyror a pointed look that said 'and whose fault is that?'. He quickly returned his attention to the princess, nodding his head in understanding. Visiting patients in the infirmary wasn't anything new to him. He had done it from time to time as a part of his princely duties. It looked good really, showed that the royal family cared, or so they said. He personally liked to think that he was a little more emotionally involved in it than just doing it to save face.

"It sounds like a good enough time for me to look into this Sickenesse, if the healers can spare a few minutes that is, of course. I've honestly been wanting to look into it, just haven't had a good moment to do so," he explained, taking on a bit more of a business tone and stoic demeanor. He laced his hands behind his back as he followed alongside Luna, at a respectful distance, of course. He glanced back over at her, hearing her sigh, but he didn't think too much of it. He looked at her fully when she asked him about attending a wedding. "Ah, yes, I do recall Lyra mentioning something about a wedding at Wizard Tower this evening," he exclaimed. "And, yes, I would be more than happy to join you. I can be, what do they call it, your plus one?" At his words, a lopsided grin came to his features unbidden. However, he quickly bit it back, looking almost flustered as he tried for a less obnoxious smile.

- Unknown

Location: The Queen's Room

Lyra only had to wait but a few seconds before Valda opened the door. And when the queen did so, she gave her a onceover, as if the woman could have sprouted wounds overnight. Though she supposed that really wasn't out of the realm of possibilities, considering previous events... Well, regardless, it had become a bit of a habit of the newly appointed knight. One couldn't be too careful when it came to the protection of their young charge, let alone a queen. "Morning, Your Highness," she replied warmly, giving her a slight courteous bow, before glancing around. "May I come in?"

Perhaps it seemed a bit silly for her to be asking for admittance to the Queen's Room, seeing as she was her bodyguard and all. But then again, it was the polite thing to do. Not to mention the fact that she physically couldn't enter the room without her aid anyways, due to a Magykal enchantment that only allowed those of royal blood to enter. Oh the technicalities of Magyk! She smiled warmly at Valda, glad to see that she was up, though perhaps not necessarily ready for the no doubt busy day ahead. Whatever the case, she would be there for her as always, as her protector and as her friend.

Fyror Kildragon

No, if they tried to take her from him,
he'd rip the world apart with his bare hands.
And for some reason, that didn't terrify him.
- Unknown

Location: La Canela Ship (Below Deck β‡’ Main Deck) - Sailing Northward
Skills: N/A

There was an intensity to Fyror's gaze when he finished his passionate "speech", and his nostrils flared slightly before he ripped his gaze away from Marco. His breath came in and out a bit sharply, as he instead stared down at the floor. If his outward demeanor was any indication, the man's words to follow didn't seem to penetrate him. He didn't make any move to follow after the man, choosing to stay below deck, if just for a moment's reprieve. Once the man was out of earshot, Fyror suddenly spun around and slammed his clenched fist against the wood beam behind him. His breaths were shaky as he closed his eyes and shook his head lightly. He rested his forehead against the rough wood as he tried to calm his breathing, yet at the same time, he was having a much harder time calming his thoughts. He eventually opened his eyes again as he pulled away from the beam, letting his hand unclench and slide back down to his side. There was emotion and weariness in his gaze as he now stared up at the ceiling.

"Why do I do this to myself?" Fyror murmured, letting the question linger in the air unanswered. It was a question that he often asked himself at times like this, and yet he still had no better answer than it simply being a part of his nature to cause himself such inner turmoil. Why did he care for Millicent enough to risk his life for her? And what kind of outcome did he expect out of this errant mission? It wasn't perhaps something he had taken much time to consider, instead deciding to trust his gut and his heart. Yet, he should know better than anyone that his heart had a habit of getting away from him.

The question ran through his mind again. Why did he care about Millicent? Once he allowed himself to think on it and more so to accept it, it wasn't hard to figure out. She was perhaps the first woman to truly give him the time of day, to treat him like a human being and not a monster. More than that, she had a strength to her that he admired, and the thought of someone tarnishing that repulsed him. They also had shared a moment, even if rather fleeting, that he would cherish forever. A soft smile appeared on his lips at the good memories, before quickly fading at the gravity of reality. Perhaps there was something between them or perhaps not. In the end, it didn't really matter, as he probably would never feel that he was truly worthy of her. Nevertheless, he felt this innate need to protect her, if only to repay her kindness to him. He owed her that much at least. He nodded his head slowly and took a deep breath, before he headed back up to the main deck now that he had regained his composure. He soon caught up with Marco, who was currently conversing with a teenage girl.

Alexandra Andonova

Man is not chastised for making mistakes,
but for failing to recognize and rectify them.
- Kolbrin Bible

Location: Ville au Camp (Main House) - Room 103 (Dining) β‡’ Room 102 (Library/Study)
Skills: N/A

Alexandra was already about halfway across the dining room when she heard someone clear their throat behind her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. She instinctively tensed, expecting the worse. However, as Bart's voice floated to her ears carrying words of concern, the tension melted from her in a shaky whoosh of air. She bit her lip as she was filled with emotion. She honestly didn't know that she could talk about what had happened to her, unsure if it would make things better or worse, but nevertheless, the knowledge that someone was there for her meant everything to her. The simple gesture was exactly what she needed at the moment, and she savored the words perhaps more than he would ever know. She brushed away a stray tear before looking back over her shoulder at him. "No, but I vill be--eventually. Thank you, truly," she replied, giving him a weak smile.

Just about that time, she could hear the bellowing, and notably panicked, voice of James calling out from the room next door. Her dark brows furrowed, and she turned around fully and walked back across the room, brushing past Bart in the process. She peeked her head into the study, glancing around the room before entering. "Voah voah, slov dovn," Alexandra stated, walking over to the distraught Paradox. "Vhat do you mean Alicia's gone? Vhat happened?" Her brows were still furrowed with confusion, but there was also a hint of genuine concern in her eyes and in her voice.
Madam Mauve
Location: Shadowell Manor - Grand Vestibule (B8)
Skills: N/A
Hit Points: 3

Out of the corner of her eye, Mauve saw the gentleman from earlier, whom had introduced himself as Master Tack, approach her and the gentleman currently on her arm. She gave a small incoherent sound in response to his dry humor but otherwise paid him little mind. Something in the atmosphere just felt off, and a mere few seconds later, her suspicions were confirmed as she heard the sound of a lock clicking into place. Her jaw clenched, and she raised her chin up as the butler opened the double doors to reveal a tall man in impeccable attire. The man was presumably the lord of the manor, yet she refused to flinch as his gaze locked on her before moving on to the next person.

As the man's words that they were not invited cut through the air, her blue eyes seemed to darken to something more reminiscent of obsidian. She drank in the rest of the man's bluntly spoken words and considered there readily apparent implications. It would seem that free will and a sense of control had been snatched out from under her, and she didn't like it, not one bit. Her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared slightly underneath her mask. She was almost certain that the blackmailer Ardad Lili was the culprit here. As such, she had no real qualms with the Ambesires. They were surely doing what they must to seek out justice, or perhaps it was vengeance, for this unseemly invasion. The distinction mattered little to her. Whatever the case, one thing was certain. The trickster would have hell to pay if Mauve had any say about it. She took in a deep breath to regain her composure before speaking, "Indeed, m'lord. Crystal clear."

Location: Their Individual Bedrooms β‡’ Palace Courtyard Clearing β‡’ Third Corridor off the Long Walk (Tristan), Queen's Room (Lyra)

"Rise and shine!" an annoyingly chipper voice pervaded Tristan's dreamless sleep. He stirred under the covers, his blue eyes fluttering open. He let out a small groan, rubbing his face before glancing around the room bleary eyed. Movement caught his eye, and he quickly saw that it was his friend Fyror moving about his room, rummaging through his wardrobe and trunks to pull out clothes and weapons. Early morning training it would seem. Great. Tristan didn't really know why Fyror always insisted upon dragging him along so he could essentially get the crap beaten out of him for an hour. The man claimed it was for "discipline," but he thinks that is just a load of crap. Don't get him wrong, he loved sparring but not at the crack of dawn when he can barely function, let alone wield a sword effectively.

"What time is it?" he muttered.

"6 o'clock," Fyror replied.

Tristan let out a loud groan. "Go away!!" he yelled, before pulling the covers back over his head. An earsplitting cry suddenly sounded off right next to him. "By the gods!" he exclaimed startled, abruptly throwing the bedcovers off of him and jumping out of bed, nearly thwacking his Night Transformer Nante in the process. The peregrine falcon apparently had decided to join him in bed, and it let out another shrill cry as it fluttered upwards to narrowly avoid getting smothered by the sheets. "I'm up! I'm up!" Fyror let out a chuckle, which subsequently earned him a well deserved, at least in Tristan's opinion, glare.

"Hahaha, very funny," Tristan mocked. Fyror threw a wad of clothes in his direction, which he barely caught and then began to change for training practice with Fyror and presumably Lyra.

Meanwhile in Lyra's room, things were less--eventful. She moved about her room, gathering up her clothes and weapons for the day, before she would head out to a small clearing by the palace courtyard for an early morning training session with Fyror and Tristan. Long before the two delegates from the Land of Long Nights had come to the Castle, she had always done such. She found starting her day with something structured and familiar helped her focus and ultimately set the tone for the day. She had to admit that she found training even more enjoyable now that she had a couple other people to spar with. Granted, she supposed she could have always sparred with her new superior Amarantha, but she didn't feel comfortable enough around the imposing woman to ask of such of her. Never mind the fact that Amarantha may then feel as if she was owed a favor in return, which was most certainly something Lyra did not want held over her head by the woman.

She let out a small sigh before choosing an outfit to wear and going behind the partition to change. She had invested in the simple wood partition some months ago, as the thought of Puck's ghost watching her change gave her the creeps. She had very much considered asking for a room change after Puck's death but ultimately ended up deciding against it as she didn't want to be a burden. In the meantime, she just tried to ignore the fact that the ghost of the former commander of the Young Army was chained inside her room for a year and a day, likely watching her every move if not just out of sheer boredom. An irrational side of her feared that he wouldn't ever leave. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. She quickly tried to shake off the morose thoughts. She finished changing and brushed out her platinum blonde locks before braiding it to the side so it would be out of the way. She grabbed her sword and then promptly headed out the door.

Tristan let out a grunt as he hit the dirt. He blinked as Lyra's face swam into his view, partially blocking his previous view of the clouds. "My point!" she exclaimed with seeming eagerness.

"Yup. What is that, 10 to 2 now?" Tristan retorted teasingly. Lyra let out a soft chuckle and offered him a hand up. He took her hand, letting her help haul himself back up onto his feet. Apart from some bumps and bruises, he wasn't seriously injured from their training session. Unless, of course, you wanted to take into account a wounded ego. He glanced over at Fyror with a sigh. Amusement lit up the amber of the man's one good eye, before he turned to address Lyra. "You think we can call it a day on the training, Lady Lauerk?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? You can just call me Lyra," she replied, shaking her head lightly at him. "And yes, I think the prince has had enough."

"Of course. My apologies, Lyra." Fyror then turned back to Tristan. "You best be getting cleaned up. You're suppose to spend the day with Princess Luna, and I highly doubt she wants to be around you when you're all sweaty." The group said their goodbyes and then parted ways to get cleaned up and ready for the brunt of their day.

Stepping foot outside his bedroom, Tristan was dressed in the rugged "formal" attire of the Land of Long Nights, his blonde hair lightly tousled under his silver engraved crown. He let out a small sigh and adjusted his cloak and furs, before he began making his way down the corridor. He wondered if it would be appropriate to just walk up and knock on Princess Luna's door. They hadn't really discussed an official meeting place, or maybe they had and it had just slipped his mind. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he walked over to her bedroom door, which was only a couple doors down from his own. However, just as he was about to knock on her door, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to investigate it, only to see lo and behold Princess Luna going over to the Messenger Rat bell. Convenient. He turned away from her door and strode over to her, clearing his throat so as not to startle her. "Morning, Princess," he greeted her, giving her a slight bow.

Meanwhile, Lyra left the servant's quarters, her sword rattling slightly at her side. She twiddled with her capsule necklace as her blue-green eyes drank everything in. She smiled softly at those she passed, and she went over in her head the queen's duties for the day. Valda had a meeting with the Chief Hermetic Scribe at noon, and there was the wedding between Myth and Bruce at sunset. Attending a wedding was certainly a good change of pace over the incessant meetings. It would be good for Valda, give her a bit of a breather hopefully. Lyra weaved her way in and out of the hallways and passersby before eventually coming to a stop in front of the queen's room. She knocked on the door without hesitation. "Your Highness? It's Lyra," she called through the door.

Fyror Kildragon

You can't protect everyone. I have to try.
- Unknown

Location: La Canela Ship (Below Deck) - Sailing Northward from Preston, England
Skills: N/A

Fyror's attention was a bit torn, only halfheartedly eyeing Marco as the man slipped out his hammock and casually enough walked over towards him. His mind was otherwise just too preoccupied. He could feel the telltale signs of his rising agitation stirring within him. Upon occasion, under circumstances such as this where his insatiable desire to protect mixed with a feeling of utter failure and helplessness, his sanity could tip over the edge, sending him into a frenzied panic. Mind over matter was more or less pointless then as the raw need to make things right, even at the cost of his own life, took over any intelligent thought. Yet, before he could truly entertain the thought that he was nearing his breaking point, he was suddenly backhanded, sending him sprawling out onto the floor. A grunt mixed with a startled gasp left his lips before he felt pain radiate through his body as he made contact with the hard wood floor. He certainly hadn't seen that coming, and his mind was rather hazy at the moment. He spat out some blood from having bit his tongue on his way down. He let out a small groan and blinked as he tried to recollect himself.

His gaze stiffly turned to look up and over at Marco as he slowly pushed himself upright. He shook his head slightly, trying to focus and understand the man's line of questions. Why was he trying to save Millicent? Was that what the man was asking? Well, why not?! was his gut reaction, but perhaps that was his heart once more speaking on behalf of his mind. While a part of him felt that he didn't have to answer the man, that he shouldn't have to explain his actions, propriety said otherwise and intelligence made him falter. Why did he so adamantly believe Millicent was in danger? Why did he feel so desperate to save her if she was? Those were good questions with multilayered answers. He got himself back onto his feet, albeit a bit shakily. He moved to straighten his jacket and then remembered the man had given him a fresh pair of clothes. He grimaced slightly, before addressing the man's questions and accusations head on, his words getting more fervent the longer he spoke.

"I was given what I believed to be reputable evidence that it is highly likely that the woman is in danger by the man in question. I was given a file by one Dr. Graham that described in graphic detail what the man's previous wives had endured before they died. They were brutally abused, defiled, and subsequently killed. He would then take their families' money and properties. Not only that, while I was at the hospital learning this, I walked in just in time to hear one of her sisters saying something about Millicent having possibly been defiled by the man. What was I supposed to do?! If she really was in danger, the longer I waited, the time it would take to verify all of the sources, Millicent could be lost forever! I would rather go after her and find out that she's alright then to gamble with her life. And I will tell you this, sir, I would go to the ends of the earth, to hell and back, for those I CARE ABOUT!!!" And there it was, perhaps the real truth of the matter.
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet