Avatar of Obscene Symphony

Status

Recent Statuses

7 days ago
Current p accurate description tbh
8 days ago
for ransom?
6 likes
11 days ago
are y'all really scandalized by someone writing a bad guy
13 days ago
@Baph a) I never said not to give explanations, although most people get butthurt when you have anything less than praise for their writing; b) it's not a "voice," some people just plain aren't good
1 like
13 days ago
Sometimes no amount of editing is gonna fix a sheet, ex when the tone of the character is completely mismatched to the RP, or the writing quality is super mismatched to the group
5 likes

Bio

child of the storm

Current RPs:

Archived RPs:

If you're interested in some short completed pieces of mine beyond my regular RP posts, feel free to rifle through my filing cabinet here.

About me:
  • Birth year 1998
  • Female
  • Canadian RIP
  • Time zone: Atlantic, GMT-4 (one hour ahead of EST)
  • Currently judging your grammar
  • Not usually looking for 1x1s but if you're really jonesing, my PMs are always open
  • Discord Obscene#1925

Most Recent Posts

Welcome! Always good to see more Canadians on the site. I recently discovered Team by Lorde for the very first time when I heard it in a Chanel commercial and have been playing it on repeat XD

I took a peek at your interest check already, looks like good stuff ^^ I'm so used to american writers that seeing Canadian cities in a check is so familiar it's jarring! XD

Lienna followed the current of students drifting back into the Blue Lions classroom, and whether it was because she’d started out nearest the door or she’d subconsciously stayed near Kellen, she’d ended up at the front, to her slight chagrin. Not that she overly objected to it, nor that she felt the need to sequester herself away in the back, but something about being essentially on display in front of a panel of professors made her feel a little exposed for her liking. Then again, maybe that was just how it felt to sit in a lecture hall; she wasn’t exactly used to it either way.

She didn’t hide the look of skepticism that came over her face as Lysander’s speech went on, platitudes about unrest in between countries she’d never seen and nations she’d never heard of, doubtless over tensions no commoner would bother caring about anyway. She supposed she should have expected as much when she came to a school known for its highborn student body, but for all the Academy’s assurances over welcoming the lowborn among the high, they displayed more than a passing misunderstanding of what actually mattered to them. Life in Hima was a daily struggle even with a family to rally around you, let alone as the sole caretaker of an ailing loved one; if the Kingdom at large experienced any trials or triumphs in her lifetime, they made little difference to her. What did she care of tensions in other nations? The wind would still blow, the snow would still fall, and night would still pass into morning; that was all that ever mattered to her.

But, with a reluctant inward sigh, she supposed it was probably counterproductive to think that way. After all, she’d gone to great lengths to escape a life that revolved around keeping the fire burning; she doubted she’d get anywhere fast in the world of nobles if she tackled it with a commoner’s mindset. Still, she couldn’t resist a snide roll of the eyes at Lysander’s last words. “The time will come when faith and morality are tested.” Lienna wasn’t sure where Lysander had spent his life, but the past four years had been a veritable gauntlet of ‘faith and morality’ for her, and she had precious little left to give.

Hmph. At least that Professor Tomai seemed to hold a similar sentiment, albeit probably directed at Professor Michail’s inane introductions activity. She didn’t even spare a glance back to the nonsense coming from the Golden Deer—now there was a brand of mirth only affordable to the wealthy—and she was honestly considering keeping her head down and hopefully avoiding the whole charade until Kellen spoke up. For all his eagerness to stand, the poor boy barely managed to stumble through his name, and it only got worse the longer he went on. It was so vicariously painful that Lienna considered standing up next just to give the poor kid a break, but was fortunately beat to the punch by none other than their House Leader himself.

Auberon gave a short version of his speech from earlier, along with a list of titles Lienna only marginally understood. Should she mention her titles, too? Did she even have any? ‘Future Countess of Southern Gautier’, perhaps, but she had no idea if that was a real title or if she’d only get laughed out of the room. And what of likes and dislikes? She had a list of dislikes a mile long, but it had been years since she gave much thought to things she liked—her primary concern had always been things she needed. She wasn’t too eager to stand up and list anything, really, but the more people to get between Kellen’s introduction and the present, the better; she didn’t miss that sympathetic look Auberon sent his way, she could do him that one kindness.

Making up her mind, she stood as elegantly as she could manage, folding her hands in front of her with her back stiffly straight. “I am Lienna Orhneaht, future Countess of Southern Gautier, and also bearer of the Minor Crest of Gautier. I like hearty meals and warm hearths, and I dislike indecision and the cold. It is my hope that we all form lasting bonds over the course of the year, to the benefit of Fódlan’s future.” She finished her introduction with a glance around at the other students behind her before sitting as smoothly as she stood, wondering if that was a flowery enough phrasing of “I hope to make friends I can count on for favours later” to satisfy the nobles in attendance.


Jorah expected the bell to indicate freedom and a chance to explore the monastery grounds, but as luck would have it, his unit apparently had the distinguished honour of attending extra classes. Great. Being hand-picked by the Archbishop himself was cool and all, but less free time and closer supervision? How was he supposed to sneak out of class now?

Ha, but at least he probably wasn’t the only one put out. Kayden couldn’t have been pleased either; it was hard to get a read on him with so many other people close by, but judging by the haste he’d tried to make away from the Black Eagles classroom at the bell and the fact that a good chunk of his house’s students were in attendance, he probably hadn’t been able to make the grand escape he’d been hoping for. Clarissa’s mood, however, surprised him: he’d expected her to be happy enough to sprout pegasus wings and fly off to the Blue Sea Star at the idea of having been hand-chosen by the Archbishop himself, but the mood emanating from her was much closer to that businesslike way she got about her during Roundtable debates than anything he’d call ‘joyous’. There was something on her mind, but for the life of him he couldn’t guess what. They were chosen by the Church to handle upcoming discord or something; it was practically a fairytale written and addressed to Clarissa von Edmund personally! What was there to be so concerned about?

Resolving to ask her later, Jorah did put in a token effort to pay attention in hopes he could avoid another tongue-lashing before he got his answer. Lysander’s speech wasn’t what Jorah would have called ‘riveting’, but Michail’s suggestion afterward certainly got his ears pricked. Introductions, eh? Jorah would usually have waited to take the spotlight at the end, but something told him that the room might need a little more encouraging than the verbal stumbling of the professors. He didn’t need to wait for the students’ response; he already knew a good show was just the spark they’d need!

“What a splendid idea, Professor! Allow me to add to my housemate’s introduction,” he exclaimed, raising a hand and throwing all pretense of staying in Clarissa’s good graces to the wind. Rather than stand, he leapt out of his seat in one smooth motion, jumping up and planting his feet unexpectedly delicately on the bench behind him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Jorah von Riegan, House Leader of the Golden Deer, connoisseur of Derdriu's market district, and foremost thorn in Duke Riegan’s side,” he introduced himself boldly, giving a cocky flourish like a tavern bard rounding up an audience. “I love tavern songs in good company and long rides in the woods—and I’m pretty fond of horses as well.” He punctuated that comment with a wink to the first girl he laid eyes on, a tiny little thing with candy-pink hair, before shrugging. “I’m not too fond of bland food or instruments played off-key, but get me into a celebrating mood and there won’t be much you can do to get me out of it. I do hope our paths will cross in good spirits again throughout the year.”

He concluded his introduction with a satisfied nod and let himself fall back down into his seat, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin and a knowing, mischievous look shot at Raimund. He wasn’t sure if his friend had gone and re-learned his manners in their time apart, but surely he wouldn’t let himself be upstaged—and if Clarissa’s head was going to explode, he wanted someone else with him in the splash zone.



Aaron stayed in the kitchen a little while longer after Lilie left, though even with no one to call him out on it, he could hardly pretend to be doing much more than biding his time. There was only so much adjusting one could do to a tray full of crystal glasses, and it simply didn’t take very long to get the next bottle ready for serving. Thankfully, his exchange with Lilie had helped calm him down, and he was feeling a lot less anxious, if not a little disappointed. Although, he supposed he had no right to be disappointed over something he had no right to expect, did he?

Coming to terms with the fact that his quick pause to get rid of his jitters was turning into procrastination - and the fact that dwelling on his conversation with Lilie would only serve to dampen his already fragile mood - he forcibly turned his mind back to the party, addressing a wide, shallow box on one of the counters. Inside were an array of small pastries from the bakery in town, ordered in for the occasion. Aaron himself was well and truly tired of the things, any inkling of hunger disappearing as soon as the sweet smell of them hit his nose, but no one could deny their quality; the mages should be pleased.

Quickly arranging them on a serving tray, he finally made his return to the living room, catching the end of a conversation about Academy professors and their respective ‘quirks’. “It sounds like I’ve been a little bit cheated,” he commented airily, offering pastries to each guest before depositing the tray on the table, “Compared to that, my affinity professor sounds remarkably tame.” He looked inquisitively around the room. “You don’t all have eccentric professors, do you?”
Responding to @Achronum and @Scribe of Thoth’s conversation but addressing everyone
Shoutout to Prized Bride that died and rose again 5 fuckin times before being buried
Here's a tip free of charge: don't keep a tally of your failed RPs, cause that's literally just a discouragement machine in the forefront of your mind. Anyone who's been RPing for a few years or more probably has dozens, if not hundreds, of failed RPs under their belt, but they also probably can't even remember most of them cause they moved on rather than dwelling on it.

Think of it this way. If we ranked hockey players by how many shots they missed and not by how many goals they scored, even the best of the best would look like hot garbage.
Some tips in no particular order:

The thing people don't brag about when they celebrate their RPs' 1, 2, 3+ year anniversaries are the 95%+ of their other RPs that died in the first month. It's a death-heavy hobby, if you can't cope with that then you might be better off writing solo. I've been at this for over 7 years and do you know how many of the RPs I've been in lasted a year or more? Three. And of those, only one ever got an actual ending. We're in this because it's fun while it lasts, not because we think every RP will last forever.

Reputation is e x t r e m e l y important. If you're new and don't have much posting history for people to look at (or if you mainly RP in PMs), write up some writing samples (or some previous RP posts you're particularly proud of) in a Gallery thread for potential partners or GMs to peruse. If you have a history of making an ass of yourself in the OOC, you'll have a hard time. Et cetera.

Honestly evaluate your skill level and write at that level. Not everyone is cut out for Advanced or even High Casual, and that's okay. Write with people of a similar skill level (no shame in dipping into Free if that's where you fit), be receptive to criticism and take an interest in improving your writing and you WILL get better, and in turn you'll have more options open to you. Because yes, the quality of your writing often DOES matter to potential partners/GMs. You might not like it, but it's true; and luckily, it's entirely within your control to change.

Most of all, be willing to put in the work. Focus on making every post better than your last and over time you will get results. Better yet, your partners and group members will recognize the effort you put in, and hopefully appreciate you for it. What WON'T get you results, though, is giving up because you think you're doomed or that nobody "understands." Life isn't fair, nothing worth doing is easy, you don't always get rewarded for your efforts, and the only good way to cope with it is to keep trying anyway.

Jorah nodded along with Euphemia’s explanation, paying a modicum more attention than he had back in the classroom—if only because at this distance, she’d probably be more likely to notice when his attention wandered from her words to things more… exciting. He got the gist of his new duties, at least: weekly meetings with the professor (which he certainly wouldn’t be missing), monthly conferences with other House Leaders, and assigning group tasks. He had to wonder whether he’d get in trouble if he assigned himself to stable duty each week; if the knight on Euphemia’s shoulder was to be believed, Jorah was eager to acquaint himself with Garreg Mach’s horses. Would rides off monastery grounds be okay? He was never really one to ask permission before asking forgiveness, but it’d be useful to know in advance if his casual afternoon rides would be interrupted by a game of hide-and-seek with the Knights of Seiros. He didn’t even know the nooks and crannies of this place yet—they’d have an advantage!

His wandering thoughts were interrupted by the last thing Euphemia said, and he had to contain a laugh. She had high expectations of him because he was heir to House Riegan? For “proper conduct” of all things? She really must have been guessing when she claimed to know him before; either that or she was parroting whatever his father had said when he bribed the Academy into making a leader out of his good-for-nothing son.

But that did leave Jorah at a crossroads: Embrace his role as House Leader and all the responsibilities (and hopefully, perks) that went along with it, or go his usual airheaded way to spite his father? The latter would usually be the obvious choice, and Jorah couldn’t deny that there was a not-so-small part of him that got some sick satisfaction from the idea of his father wasting a king’s ransom on tuition and bribes only for his son to come home just as useless as he started. But on the other hand, shirking his duties would get Clarissa up his ass in riding boots, and surely displease his dear Euphemia. The idea of detention with Professor Euphemia and Priscilla might have been intriguing enough to make his decision for him, but something told him this whole “monastery” business would probably take the fun out of what he had in mind.

Ugh, all this thinking made his head hurt; yet another reason all this “heir to House Riegan” nonsense was better left to Delia. Luckily, an excellent excuse to shelve his indecision came along just then, in the form of a very uptight-looking blond who gave off the same reverent, duty-bound aura as half the clergy, asking after Professor Kalonic. Jorah returned the boy’s nod with a raise of his brow; wasn’t Euphemia Professor Kalonic? Unless she wanted a blond on each arm—which Jorah certainly couldn’t fault her for—he was pretty sure it was him she’d summoned in class, not whoever this was. Then again, it was very possible she summoned him for something else that he’d missed while he was daydreaming.

Strangely, though, the knight she’d been beating was the one who spoke up, introducing himself as Michail Kalonic. Wait, he wasn’t Euphemia’s husband, was he? Jorah wouldn’t mind, but he’d prove an annoying obstacle if that was the case. But no, he couldn’t be—same hair, same eyes, same skin tone, he was probably her brother or cousin or something. Luckily for Jorah, he seemed a pretty good sport; he’d been chased off by more than enough angry brothers to last him a good while yet.

By the sound of the conversation, Michail was the Blue Lions’ professor—and delegating his explanatory duties to yours truly. Jorah wasn’t sure how he felt about being relegated to errand boy—or Little Riegan—but he supposed he’d been called worse. Besides, as Michail said, part of his duty as House Leader was to foster good inter-house relations, and he’d never turn down an opportunity to make himself look good in front of Euphemia.

Tapping his chin, he peered at his stiff new fellow House Leader, eventually giving him a nod of approval. “Galatea, that’s that family that broke off from House Daphnel, right? We’re practically cousins!” he exclaimed, standing on his toes to throw a friendly arm around the shoulders of his taller, as-yet unidentified friend. “So then, cousin, it sounds like our new duties as House Leaders are pretty simple. We’re the ones our fellow students follow into battle, the ones they look to when all seems lost, the ones who get things done when no one else can. Pretty cool, right?” Jorah wasn’t sure if he agreed, but the way he said it all in his storytelling voice did make it sound pretty glamorous.

“Otherwise, we do have some more mundane stuff to do,” he continued. “There’s meetings with our professors on Mondays where we get to practice the storied art of paperwork by letting them know what our underlings are working on; monthly conferences with the other House Leaders where we bring an assistant and solve some problem to get the three countries chummy with each other; and then we assign two students each week to do chores for the monastery on Saturdays. I think the three we choose from are stable duty, weeding, and sky patrol.” He counted each duty and task on his fingers, pausing a moment at the end to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

When he was satisfied he hadn’t, he threw a grin at… whatever his name was. “Not too bad, right?” he asked, not entirely sure of the answer himself. He looked around the courtyard, frowning thoughtfully. “Have you seen the Eagles’ leader yet? What say we track them down, get these inter-house relations rolling?” he tossed a wink Euphemia’s way at that, finally releasing his new friend and putting a hand on his hip. “Oh, and what did you say your name was?”

Thank you to whoever sent me a candy cane! That was very nice to wake up to ^_^
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