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

Name: mnkee
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Birthday: August 8
Ethnicity: American
Languages: Fluent English
Occupation: Stable Hand
Major/Minor: Equine studies/Animal Science & Ag Economics
Pets: 5 Boer goats, 2 Miniature Schnauzer/Beagle mix dogs, & 1 cat
Preferred RP Section: Causal
RP Level: Causal to Low Advanced
Dedication Level: High

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

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

  • Death/injury of a loved one
  • Lightning/thunder
  • Tornadoes
  • Wasps
  • Emus
  • Ostriches

  • God/Christianity
  • Animals of all kinds (Horses, dogs, and goats most specifically)
  • Nature/being outdoors
  • Going to zoos
  • All things medieval
  • Strong women
  • Learning
  • Reading
  • Rping
  • Dessert/candy
  • Barn work
  • Jeans and boots
  • Swimming

  • Bullies
  • Stereotypes
  • Hypocrites
  • Cruelty
  • Discrimination
  • Overexploitation of wildlife
  • Geese
  • Cockroaches
  • June bugs

“I don't know how to be silent when my heart is speaking.”
- Fyodor Dostoevsky

Rp's Currently Enjoying:

Characters Currently in Use:

Favorite Posts:

Other Places of Interest:

Upcoming Works:
  • Blurred Lines - Shapeshifter and animal apocalypse type RP inspired in part by the TV series Zoo
  • Guide to Beautification - A guide that explains how I make my posts more aesthetically appealing
  • A Grimm World - RP inspired by and based off of the TV series Grimm

“Damaged 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: March 13, 2018

Most Recent Posts

Location: Servants' Quarters - The Palace

Lyra's green/blue eyes widened and a light astonished laugh escaped her lips before she could contain it. Had she heard him correctly? He asked her for relationship advice? She had been asked many things over the years, but this was the first time she had ever been asked for advice on this subject matter of all things. After all, though she could dress and hold herself on par with the noble women, her femininity was overshadowed by her skills with weaponry and her at times sharp tongue. Needless to say, romance was the last thing people ever expected her to have any true advice on, and maybe they were right.

She gave Myrus an awkward half-smile. "Well, I cannot proclaim to be proficient in the area of romance and relationships," she explained, her smile soon slipping from her face. "You could say I haven't had much luck in that area. In my experience, most guys end up being too intimidated by me or simply flirt with me in order to try to get into my bed. Either way it's their loss. But, nevertheless, I will try to give you sound advice."

Her pale blonde brows furrowed as she contemplated the question at hand. This was a delicate situation, and as such she did not wish to just blurt out whatever popped into her mind without first thinking it through. Besides, it wasn't lost on her that what she would want isn't necessarily what every girl would want. She glanced up at Myrus when he added some context to his "hypothetical" situation. Her lips parted as a breath left them at his words, and she shook her head slightly with a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "For starters, you deserve better than to be called such hateful things. Granted, she may have just said that in the heat of the moment and didn't truly mean what she said. Nonetheless, a relationship should be built on mutual respect," she stated earnestly.

Lyra bent down slightly to get into his line of sight before he finally looked at her. "Have you tried talking to her?" she continued. "Girls like words, Myrus, words that are spoken from the heart. Flirting is overrated, but being genuine never goes out of style." She gave him a small reassuring smile as she still clutched the book that he had entrusted her to give to this girl Mavis. She felt the gravity and delicacy of the situation. She knew that this girl he was talking about "hypothetically" was actually Mavis, and that this book was the way he hoped to win her back. It was a sweet gesture indeed, but he would need more than gifts to fix a broken relationship. Her lips thinned as she glanced down at the book in her arms and then back up at Myrus. She let out a small sigh. This was certainly complicated.

Location: Port Witch Coven House

Malekith seemed entirely unfazed by the onslaught brought about by their "guest," the old grotesquely fat man Sigmund. His head tilted to the side slightly, and his dark brows furrowed as a look of seeming confusion crossed his features. Yet, if one looked close enough, they would notice that his eyes didn't match up with the rest of his expression but were instead devoid of any emotion. "Wrongs? You must be more specific, good sir," he inquired, his words dripping with innocence that he didn't have and flattery that he didn't feel.

His brows rose as the fat old man continued on with his tirade despite Malekith's attempt to otherwise dissuade him. He wasn't exactly sure himself why he even bothered playing this cat and mouse game with the obnoxious man. At a glance, it didn't seem like Sigmund had much to offer other than perhaps the fleeting pleasure of watching him die from a heart attack. Perhaps sometimes it was just a habit of Malekith's to try to deceive everyone he laid his eyes on, and sometimes he did find pleasure in simply playing the game even if the prize was minute.

Malekith contained any outward display of his satisfaction at seeing the old man painfully bash his hand into the door. His eyes darkened the slightest bit as he thought about how much more pain he could inflict upon the man, but unfortunately, the man was too fat and would only break his torture table. Such a shame. He arched a bit of a brow in reaction to Sigmund's name calling. Whores? Well, yes, they are. But me, a man-woman? he thought, glancing down at himself and then back up at the old man. I mean have you seen me? Clearly not.

He let his hand fall back down to his side as Fleur stepped forward to address the obnoxious man. He glanced back over at Nera who remained at the top of the stairs. He gave her a wicked smirk before returning his attention to Fleur as his Witch Mother finished up. He didn't really care what she had said to Sigmund, as long as it kept the old man at bay until Malekith could think of a more fitting fate for him.

"Indeed we do, m'lady," he responded as a charming smile came to his features. He bowed slightly and then stepped to the side to allow Fleur to pass and go up the stairs first. You know, as any gentleman would do.

Thalken Talink

I clutched the branch of soot and flame.
A father rose to scorch my feet.
I walk alone, beside myself. No where to go.
- "Flesh and Bone" by Black Math

Location: Gate to the Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: N/A

Thalken let Vladimir's words cascade over him and through him, all the while leaving his facial expression purposefully blank. Perhaps a part of him was still not quite ready for the world to see the man underneath. Nevertheless, his walls were slowly chipping away whether he liked it or not. He contemplated the terms that were laid out for him. He had to admit that they were straightforward, reasonable even. The fact that he would even be granted an audience with the Lady Crypt was--incredible. On the other hand, the bit about having his fate decided by others, though not surprising, was nonetheless nerve-wrecking.

His breath came in sharply through his nose before coming out as an unsteady exhale from his mouth. "Fine," he replied, his voice more agreeable this time around. He was truly trying to be cooperative rather than antagonistic, knowing full well the latter would only dig himself a deeper grave than he already was in. He just hoped that his efforts were even the least bit noticeable. If one could only look inside him, they would see the turmoil that laid within his being. They would see the good man that was now breaking down walls to free himself. It was time to make that man known. It was time for him to atone for all his sins. He had waited for years anticipating a moment like this, and yet finally facing it was still no less daunting.

The mention of food brought him out of his brooding ruminations. When was the last time he had eaten? It dawn on him that it had been hours since he had eaten any food, and in his hurry to put as much distance from his father as possible, he had failed to bring any provisions with him. He was still dead set on not returning to the Talink Manor ever again, and yet all his stuff was basically now being held hostage there. He had the bare minimums on him. That was it. He closed his eyes, and his facial expression hardened. "God dammit," he cursed lowly. You're an idiot.

Alexandra Andonova

Off with the head, off with the head...
Paint the roses, paint the roses...
- "Mad as a Hatter" by Larkin Poe

Location: Ville au Camp - Kitchen House
Skills: N/A

Alexandra and Bart's conversation had seemed to come to a screeching halt, leaving questions hanging in the air unanswered. And yet, it wasn't because of the bloody chaos that was happening not far from where they stood. No, they were still unaware of that--gravelly unfortunate debacle. The two acquaintances were instead intently focused on whatever predicament had befallen their fellow Paradox Sophia. Alexandra glanced over at Bart as he came up beside her in a similarly concerned fashion. She ended up doing a double take when he basically uttered the same exact words she had just said. Well, minus the Russian accent, but you get the picture.

"Hey, I just said that!" she retorted, practically pointing a finger at Bart. However, her attention quickly returned to Sophia, a note of true concern in her dark brown eyes. "Head exploding, yeah, that's no good," she commented. "Is there something I can--" She was then left speechless, not an easy feat I might add, mid-speech as Sophia began stuffing cotton balls in different orifices of her face.

"Uhhh. Is that to keep the brain matter from seeping out of your head if it explodes? 'Cause I don't think that's hov it vorks," she stated dumbfounded. Nevertheless, she was still relieved to see that Sophia was beginning to feel better. How cotton balls achieved that end, she was skeptical at the moment. She glanced over at James wide-eyed. "Uh huh, sure," she murmured. She rubbed her temple with her fingers as she finally let out a small resigned sigh. Well, at least everything was back in working order. Or was it?

"You've been avfully quiet--" she commented, intending to address Gilbert. Yet when she turned around and her eyes scanned the room, she found that the big man had just up and vanished! "Vhat? Vhy? Hovvv does a giant like the Hat man just valk out of here vithout anyone noticing," she exclaimed. She let out a huff of exasperation before stomping her way towards the door.

Location: Port Witch Coven House

As the sun rose up in the sky, it seemed to breathe life into the Port Witch Coven House. Malekith could detect the stirrings of people as he stalked through the hallways, and as he rounded the corner, a couple of witches came into view. He inclined his head slightly in a simple greeting before throwing them a wink over his shoulder as he passed by them. To his mundane sastification, the action elicited a blush from the younger of the two. There were certainly perks to warlocks being a rarity. It meant being surrounded by a multitude of pretty witches, which of course appealed to him as much as the next guy. Unfortunately, they did not stay pretty for long. Stress and age did a number on their looks, making them more ghastly in appearance over time. As far as he was concerned, they could go burn at the stake at that point in time.

Just then, the sound of pounding at the front door, followed by the angry words of some deranged soul, reverberated through the halls, causing him to stop short in his tracks. He turned wordlessly on his heels and walked through the house to the front door, getting there slightly after Fleur did. He came up behind her as she addressed the individual whom was rudely disrupting their morning. He braced one muscular leather clad arm against the door frame and nonchalantly rested the other hand on Fleur's shoulder. He threw a knowing smirk in her direction before eyeing the intruding stranger with his dark blue and black flecked eyes. Needless to say, he was thoroughly unimpressed by what he saw.

"Yes, do come in for tea. We can scrounge you up a fresh brew," he reaffirmed Fleur's last statement whilst giving the person a disarming smile. Yes, a fresh brew with a dash of poison in it.

Location: Servants' Quarters - The Palace

Lyra turned on her heels to face Myrus once more when he had entered her room. Her smile soon faded as a note of sadness seeped into the young prince's voice as he replied to her. Lips thinning, she nodded her head in sullen understanding. It couldn't be easy losing your mother at such a young age and let alone in such tragic circumstances. Today's coronation marked a new era, but it wasn't lost on her that it also marked the all too soon passing of an old one. The weight of the loss was still so raw in the hearts of many, most certainly to Myrus and his siblings who had lost the most. Lyra's heart went out to him, but she was at a loss for any words that could possibly ease his pain. Perhaps her calming, reassuring, and ever loyal presence during these hard times would be the better testament.

She gave him a small reassuring smile, before looking down at the book that Myrus now held out in his outstretched hands. Her eyes took in the cover, and she instantly recognized that the title was written in the Old Tongue of her people. "Organic Synthesis," she translated the text out loud, glancing up at Myrus as she did so before looking back down at the book. Her eyes took in the fine cover for a moment longer before finally returning her attention to Myrus. Her brow quirked upward the slightest bit as he explained to her what he wanted her to do with the book. Just a friend, eh? she thought. The corner of her lips pulled up slightly, but she otherwise kept her mouth shut. She didn't wish to make him anymore uncomfortable than he already was by inquiring about this friend. "Certainly. I'll deliever it to her," Lyra replied, nodding her head in agreement.

Her brows then furrowed as a small slip of paper fell out of the book and fluttered down to their feet as Myrus made to open the book. She stepped back slightly as he bent to pick up the paper and quirked a brow in question as he straigthened back up. She glanced up at him in time to see a look of confusion overcome his features, before he gestured for her to take a look. She gingerly took the piece of paper from him. Her brows furrowed deeper as she looked down at the strange imagery. "It's certainly strange. It's not like any land I've ever seen in my travels," she replied, looking back up at him.

Myrus nodded, his eyes flickering between Lyra, the book, and the image. "I've never seen a portrait so small and so lifelike...Maybe it's some form of Magyk?" Myrus suggested. He couldn't imagine someone with paint and brush spending so long on such an odd scene and not making a single mistake. His brows then furrowed as he noticed what looked like a smudged word. The book was a rather ancient one to be written in the Old Tongue - maybe this image was just as ancient? Yet that seemed almost like a contradiction to him - why should ancient images be more refined and sophisticated than ones they were capable of producing in the current day?

"Hmmm, maybe. Perhaps that would explain the realism of it. It's like one took what they were seeing and casted it straight to this paper," Lyra replied. "The question is what land looks like this, and if it's not a depiction of a known land, then what inspired it." Her eyes squinted slightly as she inspected the indiscernible word in the upper right-hand corner. Strange indeed.

"You can keep the image, if you'd like," Myrus then said. "It's from your homeland - I know that much at least. Maybe a scribe or a wizard could tell us more..."

"Well, I certainly cannot deny the opportunity to solve a mystery in my spare time," Lyra remarked, smiling up at Myrus. "Thank you." She then glanced around her room for a spot to put it for safekeeping. Seeing as it was more or less an artifact, she did not want to simply carry it around in her satchel and risk damaging it. She then promptly walked the short distance across her room, deciding to put the piece of paper inside her jewelry box. Once it was safely inside she then walked over to her bed, which was still currently littered with weapons.

"So, deliver the book to Room 106 in the Pye House on Alchemie Way to one Mavis Moll, correct?" she reiterated. As she spoke she picked up one of the dagger from off of her bed and then grabbed a piece of paper. She tested the sharpness of the blade by seeing how easily it cut through the paper. She gave an imperceptible nod of her head when it proved satisfactory. If push came to shove and she had to shove her dagger into someone, she didn't want it to be a wasted effort. She glanced over at Myrus before sheathing the dagger to her thigh just inside the slit of her dress.

"Yes - Mavis Moll," Myrus confirmed. Had he not known Lyra, he would have been a bit thrown off by her use of a knife - perhaps even insist that Mavis wasn't to be harmed and this wasn't some assassination code. But Lyra was a bit odd as servants went - and Myrus didn't mind that in the slightest. It was what made her special. "And, um...If she says anything...tell me what she says, yeah?" Myrus then added, a bit of a blush to his cheeks. "I just want to make sure she likes it and if there's anything wrong with it, I'll have the restoration scribe have another crack at it."

Lyra reached for a knife this time and repeated the same process she had done with the dagger. She typically preferred to carry at least two weapons on her at any given time. That way if someone managed to disarm her, she would always have a backup. After all, safety first. She glanced back over at Myrus after tossing the now pieces of paper aside. Her perceptive gaze took in his facial features, noting the hint of a blush as he spoke. Oh yeah, she's *just* a friend.

Lyra looked away from him just as the corners of her lips once more curled upwards in seeming amusement. "Mhm," she murmured simply as she sheathed the knife in her hands. She then bent down to place it in her left boot. Once she straightened back up and turned to face him, her facial expression was more composed than it had been mere moments before. "I will take it to her post haste and then report back to you, Prince Myrus," she exclaimed before holding out her hands to take the book from him.

"Thank you, Lyra," Myrus said, a bit of relief in his voice. He handed the book over to her carefully, a bit worried that he might drop it and scuff up the cover. The blush spread a bit more as it suddenly hit him - did Lyra think he liked Mavis? "She's just a friend," Myrus added quickly. "Yes we did date for a while - she broke things off but it was really mutual, just two different people...She's like my best friend, you see? We've been friends since we were small - you'd love her, she's brilliant really. I once saw her turn a toad into gold...Well, it was a dead toad...and it was only a bit of a shimmer...but..." his voice trailed off. "I'll shut up now."

"Any time," Lyra replied earnestly. She took the book from him just as carefully as he had handed it over. She made sure to keep a tight secure grip on it from thereon. The last thing she wanted to do was drop it before it even made it to Mavis. Just then, as she looked up at Myrus, she witnessed as a delayed realization struck the young prince. Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip to keep back the smile as he began babbling incessantly in a vain attempt to cover his tracks. "Uh huh," she managed to reply, her voice wavering slightly. "Just a friend."

Thalken Talink

I walk alone, beside myself, nowhere to go
My flesh and bone, this part of me, the seeds I've sown
- "Flesh and Bone" by Black Math

Location: Gate to the Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
Skills: N/A

So, Thalken sat there, cross-legged on the damp, filthy ground. As time ticked on, he had blocked out the ramblings of the guards nearby. Mental, and possibly physical, exhaustion coupled with a sense of resignation was slowly setting in, and it etched away at his once stern façade, to reveal a rare glimpse of the raw, broken man that he was underneath. That was if one was even willing to take the time to notice. Doubtful. Left to his own devices, his mind began to wonder. To what you ask? To why the hell he had decided to come here in the first place. Nothing was going as he had expected. He couldn't even get through the damn gate. He wanted to be a better man, but thus far being better sucked. He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. He honestly didn't care anymore that he was leaving himself in a vulnerable position. He had little left to live for anyways. And yet, if he was to die tonight, he wanted to do it after saying his piece to the Lady Crypt. At least let him leave this world with a clearer conscience. That's all he asked.

Thalken looked up when he heard movement nearby and a new voice came to his ears. His dark eyed gaze landed on this newcomer, a man he recognized as the stranger that had been talking to his sister last night at Almack's. His lips thinned slightly as he eyed the barrage of weapons openly displayed on The Great Bazhooli's person, yet this time he made no move to go for his own weapons. He didn't see the point of it anymore. Besides, he wasn't here to fight. The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled him out of his momentary haze. From where he still remained seated, he looked up at the imposing man that was The Great Bazhooli. He didn't really see the point in getting up either when he would probably just be told to wait again. Besides, he seemed less threatening this way, right? Maybe. Or, maybe, he just looked more like a fool. Take your pick.

Thalken arched a brow questioningly before The Great Bazhooli finally began to speak. And? he thought when the man stated that he recognized Thalken. Yet his eyes darkened slightly at his next statement. He then let out a small sigh and looked away. You and me both, he thought. But people change. He wasn't naïve enough to think that his father would ever change, but he had to believe that he could, that he had changed. If he couldn't even believe that he himself could do that, then what would be the point of all this? He looked back over at The Great Bazhooli as the man announced the same words he kept hearing out of the mouths of the guards time and time again. He wasn't welcome inside. He would have to just wait. His jaw clenched.

"Fine," he finally stated simply in reply. But even as the words left his lips, he felt that there was still more that he needed to say. His brows furrowed slightly, and his jaw clenched and unclenched as he struggled to find the right words, let alone the courage to say them. "J-just--" he struggled to begin before growing in his resolve. "Just let the Lady Crypt know that I am here. I wish to say my piece, and then she can decide my fate from there."

Location: Servants' Quarters - The Palace

Unlike some, Lyra enjoyed the early morning hours. There was a serenity to it, a calmness before the chaos of the day, that she found quite therapeutic. She often found that it was during this time that she could set the tone for her day, and she would do that by centering and grounding herself with a little weapons practice. Perhaps it wasn't most people's ideal choice of morning activities; however, to her it was a vital part of her day. The mere repetition of the various fighting techniques she was trained in meant that it would all be committed to muscle memory. As such, should the need arise to take up arms, she would be plenty prepared.

Today was different from most though. It was coronation day. It was a day that marked the beginning of a new era, the reign of her mistress, the soon-to-be Queen Valda Kaur Kaimana Sarai. It was a day of excitement for many and apprehension for others. Lyra was smart enough to know that plenty were opposed to the idea of a witch taking the throne. To Lyra, that meant this day was fraught with many potential dangers for Valda. Many people were traveling from lands far and wide to The Palace, many who could have ill intent. There were more people than there were guards, which could potentially provide a small window of opportunity for someone to try to kill Valda before she is crowned. Not on Lyra's watch. She would be watching Valda like a hawk today, whether her young charge liked it or not.

Lyra woke up an entire hour earlier than usual, five o'clock sharp, just to prepare for the day. Something in her gut told her that there was no room for error today, so she pushed herself more than ever before during her routine weapons practice this morning. It was now nine o'clock. She had long since been dressed and ready for the day, and she was now sharpening and doing other routine maintenance on her weapons with what time she had to spare. Her weapons were laid out in the middle of her small bed in her similarly cramped quarters. The reverberating sound of metal on whetstone could be heard as she worked on sharpening one of her daggers with rhythmic strokes.

A sudden knock on her door broke her concentration, her hand stopping mid-stroke. Her pale blonde brows furrowed the slightest bit, as she wondered who would be interested in seeing her at this hour. The corners of her lips pulled up into smile as Myrus's voice came to her ears. She set the dagger and whetstone aside and wiped her hands on a rag before walking over to the door. With a friendly smile on her face, she opened the door to reveal the young prince on the other side. Despite him being several years younger than her, he was still half a foot taller than her, meaning she had to look up slightly to meet his gaze.

"Prince Myrus, it is a pleasure as always to see you. I hope you are well," she spoke, her voice kind and genuine. She gave a small curtsy, partly out of habit but still a show of respect nonetheless. She then opened her door wider, allowing him to enter if he so wished. "Now, what is it that I can do for you?" she asked, her green/blue eyes glancing down at the book he held in his arms before going up to meet his gaze once more.

Location: Port Witch Coven House

Malekith rolled out of bed late this morning without a care in the world. No really, he doesn't care, like, at all. And he most certainly does not care for the mornings. He's a night owl through and through. The early bird catches the worm? More like Malekith tortures the early bird all throughout the night, so he really doesn't want to be woken up during those godforsaken hours before eight and ten. Catch my drift?

Well, when he had finally risen for the day, he stumbled over to the mirror and basin bleary eyed. His nearly black hair was tousled in every which way from sleep, and his bare chest glistened with a thin layer of sweat that almost seemed to accentuate his muscles. He scrubbed the remnants of blood off of his hands in the basin, his mind wondering to last night's victim. She had been a beautiful brunette before he was done with her. It had been an enjoyable night of torture for him, despite her obnoxious screaming. Talk about the pitch that woman could attain. It was terribly grating on the ears.

Perhaps it would have been more reasonable for Malekith to have caught up on sleep the night before the coronation, considering Fleur's plans, but he couldn't help himself. He had just known that that brunette was the perfect specimen from the moment he had laid eyes on her. And he was most certainly not disappointed. But onto new, better things. The day was still young and sure to be filled to the brim with new opportunities for a little mischief, if his Witch Mother Fleur had any say about it. With a smirk at his reflection, Malekith combed out his hair and then pulled on his usual dark, leathery attire, before leaving his quarters forthwith.

Alexandra Andonova

Places, places, get in your places.
Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces.
Everyone thinks that we're perfect.
Please don't let them look through the curtains.
- "Dollhouse" by Melanie Martinez

Location: Ville au Camp - Kitchen House
Skills: N/A

Alexandra walked back over to the couple of others, her little makeshift group, who were still gathered in the confines of the Kitchen House. She put on a somewhat forced smile, faking that her sanity was not cracking more and more with every new revelation. She was unsure though who she was trying to fool more, Gilbert, or herself? You could say that sarcasm was the glue that held her together by threads. Cut that, and who knows what would spill out from the dark depths of herself. She didn't want to know. So, fake it until you make it might as well be her new slogan right about now.

She walked up alongside the chair that Bart was sitting in. She glanced down at him and arched a brow when he addressed her. Her brows then furrowed slightly at his words. "Callliifooorniaaa," she repeated, drawing the word out in an exaggerated manner. She thought the word sounded familiar, but she couldn't exactly pinpoint where from. She mentally shrugged. Who knows.

"I am from the Soulless infested early 1800s Russia. I vas in England traveling with the Russian Imperial Circus vhen I vas untimely beheaded," she finally addressed his question about where she was from. She decided to add the little tidbit about when she was from, seeing as most everyone came from a different time, place, and timeline. At least that's what The Dice had said. She let out a small sigh and shook her head. "Don't ask," she added in reference to the bit about her being beheaded.

Alexandra stared off absentmindedly at the wall for a moment before glancing back down at Bart. She once more arched a brow. It was kind of a habit of hers. "Internet? Cell phones? I don't knov vhat any of that is I'm afraid. Are you sure you are not speaking a foreign language?" she replied, throwing a little sarcasm into the mix as usual.

She looked up and over at the door when she heard someone enter. In came a stumbling, almost drunken like Sophia. Her brows furrowed. "Vhat happened to you?" she asked. She finally rushed over, worried the girl was about to fall on her ass given the way she was scrambling around. "Voah voah voah, slov your roll," she stated. "Vhat are you even looking for in such a hurry?" She threw a questioning look at the newcomer who rushed in soon after. She was too preoccupied by all this to note the sudden absence of the giant hat man.
In Darke Magyk 12 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Morose Oh bless you. Thank you!

Yeah, I was about to say that I unfortunately have run out of time for tonight. I'm taking care of my work's 30 something horses and other assorted animals by myself right now, so I don't want to jeopardize not getting enough sleep. Assuming it's not going to rain tomorrow, I've got a lot of horses, some more rambunctious than others, to put back outside along with other barn chores. Nevertheless, I should not have waited until the last minute to try to finish her up. Procrastination strikes again it would seem. I apologize for the inconvenience.
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