Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Amazes me how often adults complain about kids/teenagers. In my experience, the adults have always proven themselves to be WAY more problematic.
4 mos ago
my dog isn't feeling well (he had to get his yearly shots) so I'm petting him with one hand, and writing RP responses with the other.
5 mos ago
Good morning to everyone except for the jerk who spoiled Infinity War for me.
5 mos ago
writing helps with my depression but when I'm depressed I don't have the motivation to write.
7 mos ago
Just woke up and I'm already ready for the day to be over.


ᵀʰᶦˢ ᶫᵒᵛᵉᶫʸ ᵍʳᵃᵖʰᶦᶜ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵐᵃᵗᶜʰᶦᶰᵍ ʰᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ᵐʸ ᶠʳᶦᵉᶰᵈ, ˢᶦᵃʸᵃ ᴰʳᵃᵍᵃᶫᵒʳᶰ⋅ ᵀʰᵃᶰᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ﹗

- A Land of Wonder and Nightmare with Siaya Dragalorn

- The Shackles of Revenge with Siaya Dragalorn

- The Sickness with AutumnFrost

8/10: Replies will be slow.

Most Recent Posts

“What judgment?!” Ghent blurted, standing his ground even as Elayra leaned closer. He fumed in silence, mentally responding to each question she hurled at him. No, he didn’t trust her judgment. No, he didn’t think she knew what she was doing. He thought Drust was crazy, and she was crazy for defending him.
Before Ghent could get a word in edgewise, Drust put an end to what might have become their biggest argument. Ghent shot Elayra a quick, accusatory glare. He waited for Drust to go into a tirade of his own against him, but he never did.
Ghent blinked. It almost sounded like Drust was siding with him. He looked to the man quizzically, surprised by the admittance of his word meaning nothing. There went that idea.
As Drust opened up about the Curse, Ghent's eyes were drawn to the ebony lines marking the man's skin. He had a vague idea of what the Curse was, but much about the disease remained a mystery to him.
Near the end of his explanation, Drust sounded like he hated himself. Or at least he hated what the Curse was turning him into. It was a cruel fate; he had lost so much and now he was losing himself.
Ghent's heart weighed heavier with the knowledge. Without his anger to fuel him, he felt tired in more ways than he thought possible. He couldn't admit it out loud, but maybe Elayra was right to give Drust another chance.
As the conversation returned to the present, Ghent was amazed that his interference be referred to as admirable. 'Admirable' was certainly better than being likened to a mother hen. He almost flashed Elayra a smug, 'see?' smirk, but he sobered, focusing on his sneakers as the Knight repeated the sworn oath.
The words touched something inside of Ghent. Aside from his adoptive parents, he couldn't think of a single person who would be willing to protect him. It was kind of nice to have someone dedicated to his personal safety. Even if that someone wasn't always dependable.
"No...that's good enough for me," Ghent lifted his head, feeling differently after the conversation. "I mean, you're obviously not angry enough to hurt us now. And, uh..." the words trailed off into an awkward lull. He kind of wanted to apologize for being a pain, but he didn't want to admit his faults. Especially not in front of Elayra.
"Well? What are you waiting for, Blondie?" Ghent stepped aside, eager to change the subject. "Hurry up and untie him. Your knot looks terrible, by the way."
No worries! I kind of forgot we had an OOC chat here, since we've been utilizing the Shackles one so much.

Oh, shoot! My apologies for forgetting that! I'll keep it in mind from here on out. I can edit my post before last, if you'd like. I completely forgot that the magic differs depending on if they're on Earth or Wonderland. My bad!

Yay, downtime! Prepare yourselves,'s 20 Questions time.
Ghent felt everything happening around and within him. The magic warmed the skin underneath his sleeves, the numbness vanishing from his fingers. The whoosh of the fire lighting the CottonTail prompted him to open his eyes, resulting in him scrambling away from the woodpile with a yell. He kept his distance, gulping as the flames lapped at the wood.
The wait was short, but terrible. Ghent tugged on the drawstrings of his hoodie, mentally repeating 'extinguo' in an anxiety induced mantra. He waited for the fire grow out of control, but it didn’t. The fire was contained. Maybe he was getting the hang of this.
“Elayra, check this out!” Ghent looked back for her approval, his excitement blinding him to the fact that she was on guard duty. Or at least she had been. Drust was awake and speaking with her, their words barely audible over the crackling of fire.
Seeing the blonde near the madman, Ghent grabbed the piece of wood from the ground and sprang to his feet. The movement made his middle ache, the pain reminding him of how close he and Elayra had come to dying by Drust’s hands.
“Elayra!” Ghent was about to tell her to get away from the Knight, but her stern look silenced him. His eyes narrowed in disapproval, his jaw set. Although Drust was restrained, Ghent felt Elayra was being careless.
While the two spoke, Ghent listened intently. He hated to admit it, but he could tell Drust was different. He was quiet, possibly even remorseful for his previous actions. It was the least scary Ghent had seen the man.
Folding his arms across his chest, Ghent stuck out his bottom lip in a silent pout after Elayra interrupted Drust's beginnings of an apology. He wanted to hear the man beg for forgiveness.
Apparently, the almost-apology was good enough for Elayra. Ghent tensed as she reached for the rope, her fingers working at the knot. She was going to untie Drust.
“WAIT!” Ghent's two minutes of silence was officially over. Pushing through his exhaustion, he ran forward, determined to stop Drust from being freed.
“What the heck do you think you're doing?!” Ghent gestured to Drust wildly with the piece of wood, his voice cracking midway. “You do realize he tried to kill us, right?” he hissed, whispering as if Drust wouldn’t hear the exchange.
“I mean..." Ghent stole a sideways glance at their captive, feeling conflicted by the sight of him. He didn’t want to keep Drust tied up if he didn’t have to be, but he also didn’t like the idea of being murdered in his sleep.
“Shouldn’t we, I dunno, test him or something?” Ghent suggested, gesturing again with the wood. He almost smacked Drust in the head with it without meaning to. “Make him swear on his honor that he won’t attack us?”
"I wouldn't call that much of a choice," Ghent grumbled, yelping as he overheard the moan. He lifted the piece of wood over his head, ready to swing at the first thing that moved. The ghost sounded closer than the previous ones, leading him to believe one had managed to slip into the Safe Zone.
After the nonexistent threat passed, Ghent held the log against his chest, knuckles white. He wished Margen was there.
Ghent turned, startled as Elayra admitted she could no longer remember the name. He grimaced at the replacement word, shifting his weight to his other foot. He didn't like where this was going.
How could you forget?! Ghent wanted to scream. He tried to remind himself that Elayra was only human. She couldn't be expected to know and remember everything, no matter how dire the situation was. He closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. Panicking wouldn't solve anything.
"Okay. I'll give it a shot." Seeing no other choice, Ghent dragged his feet over to the pile of wood. He crouched in front of the structure, splaying his fingers out over the center pocket. "Igniculous summons the fire, extinguo puts it out," he repeated Elayra's instructions, speaking slowly and clearly. "Igniculous, fire. Extinguo, puts out fire. That's easy enough."
Despite his attempt at a pep talk, his nerves were on edge. He couldn't help himself and cut a glance toward the shadowy figure of Drust.
From what Ghent could tell, the Knight remained on the ground. That was a relief. Ghent faced the woodpile again, shaking his head. He needed to leave Drust to Elayra, no matter how difficult.
Taking a moment to plan, Ghent chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He wondered if his volume had anything to do with the power of the magic. In the past, his panic lead him to practically shouting each focus word. He decided to try speaking calmly and carefully.
Ghent moved his hands closer to the woodpile, taking in a breath. He focused on what he believed the CottonTail looked like. Small, soft. A glorified cotton ball. It was the only thing he allowed himself to think about.
As he opened his mouth to speak, his throat constricted. He didn't want to cause another disaster, but he also didn't want to sit in the dark. Not to mention, it was cold. Much colder than even an hour before.
"Ig..." Ghent swallowed. He felt the magic answering him, the same excitable, undisciplined pulse he felt when he last reached out to it. He cleared his throat, determined to stay composed. He had to get rid of the magic before it grew unstable.
Scrunching his eyes shut, Ghent spoke hastily, but quietly. "Igniculous!"


I know we kind of covered this in Hangouts, but thanks so much again for the praise and helpful advice! I'm trying to be mindful of it, as descriptions have been a weakness for me in the past. It's something I will try to practice more often! Especially in opening posts. You did brilliantly with adding in descriptions, and it was fun to play off of. I hope it is alright I assumed Ava followed them inside. If not, I can easily change that.

Awesome! I'm delighted you like the idea for Jason, I will go with that then. As for how new they are...maybe two or three years? I'm open to adjusting that part, depending on what would work best story-wise.

Better than good! (Slipped in a little Prompto quote for ya). I love all of that, and I really like the age system in regards to how the ranking works. It makes sense that way -- I was wondering how it would work for the younger hunters. I'll figure out what Lydia's rank will be tomorrow, when I'm not functioning on 2% of my brainpower. Also, I really like the idea of hunters not being in the actual Society. This is gonna be excellent. Not that it isn't already a blast. :D

Perfect about Ava's rank and the ranks of her family! Despite what the others may say, I love her independent way of thinking and it suits her character too. You go girl! Follow your dreams. >D
"Your loss, Gennings," Jason scoffed, irritated by her refusal. His gaze flicked to Lydia when Ava mentioned her being interested. He leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Lydia's face underneath her baseball cap, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Is that so?"
Lydia's jaw went slack at Ava's betrayal, although she was quick to collect herself. "Er. Yes. I'd love to see it," she answered, stiffening when Jason went out of his way to make eye contact. She felt certain her face was on fire.
Jason straightened, a glint of amusement in his steely blue eyes. "Follow me," he invited, pushing off of the mailbox. It stood more crooked than before.
As the boy lead the way, Lydia shot Ava a wide-eyed, half crazed look. ‘I’m going to kill you,’ she mouthed. She turned her head before her friend could respond, her heart giving a panicked flip when Jason started talking. He never looked back at the girls, he was too busy going on about how expensive the motorcycle was and how fast it could go.
“Wow,” Lydia mumbled. She made the comment not about the machinery, but the state of the garage. A pile of large cardboard boxes nestled in the corner almost touched the ceiling, and there was a cluttered worktable with a blue tarp tossed over it. A dartboard hung on the wall with a few knives embedded into it. Most were dead center.
Jason paved the way for them, pushing a box of tools over with his combat boot. Lydia was glad she wasn’t the only one who wore boots in the summer. She kept her arms pressed against her sides so she wouldn’t accidentally bump into anything.
The door to the house had a calendar on the back of it, with a picture of a majestic looking panther. Lydia stared at it, jumping when it seemed to meow.
Above them, a large Siamese cat glowered from the rafters. Lydia recognized the cat from Jason’s profile picture.
“Don’t mind Hannah,” Jason blew some of his dark hair out of his face. “The neighbor's stupid dog chased her earlier.”
“Ponchy?” Lydia guessed, pitying the cat. It mewed pathetically.
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Jason moved around so he was on one side of the motorcycle, and the girls were on the other. “Hate that dog. He's always getting lose and sniffing around here.”
Lydia glanced to Ava. She wished the girl would say something, but she figured Ava was too busy taking in the sight of the garage.
“Well? What do you think?” Jason gestured to the motorcycle with a wide wave of his hand. “Awesome, right?”
Lydia didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing special about it; it looked like every other motorcycle. She pretended to look it over, nodding to feign interest.
“It’s…” Lydia took a breath. “It’s awesome,” she finally agreed, using his word to describe the thing. She did her best to sound enthusiastic, but instead she sounded pained. She hated lying.
"You bet it is." Jason didn't seem to notice her tone. He looked to Ava, waiting for her reaction. "C'mon, Gennings. Even you can't deny this is a sick ride."
Ghent gripped his half of rope tightly, wincing every time the Knight moved.
"He's waking up!" he hissed the obvious, making a loop with the rope while Elayra tied Drust's hands. It should have been simple enough to do, but Ghent was shaking so badly he could barely get a knot started.
Unsurprisingly, Elayra finished first. Ghent expected her to take over for him, but she was returning to their abandoned woodpile.
"You're leaving me?" 'Whiny toddler' was beginning to fit. Fingers numb with cold, Ghent wrapped the rope around and above Drust’s boots and pulled so it was taut. He bit his bottom lip as he worked, silently praying for the man to stay asleep as he tied the rope off in a lopsided, bulky knot.
"Let's see how tough you are now," Ghent muttered, pushing himself up to stand. He kept a wary eye on Drust's slumbering form as he retrieved the piece of wood from the ground. Either Drust was still out of it, or he was playing possum. Shivering at the thought, Ghent turned and hurried to regroup with Elayra.
As he neared her, Ghent overheard the repeated the focus word. He hoped for a spark, but nothing happened. He frowned at his sneakers, knowing what her failure meant. It meant the task fell to him.
“Do I have a choice?” Ghent set the magical log aside, squinting at what he assumed was a cotton ball. He looked to her for an explanation, but most of her face was covered in shadow. They were both being swallowed by the darkness.
“Any way to do this without burning the entire forest down?” Ghent ran a hand through his layered mess of hair, reluctant to conjure the element by the use of magic. He didn't like fire. Like Drust, it was deadly and unpredictable.
Reviving this again. Updated original post.
A few minutes in, Ghent leaned back to admire his woodpile. He was satisfied with his work, at least until Elayra chastised him.
“What’s wrong with it?” he demanded, gesturing to the mini tower with both hands. “It's great! Even Margen thinks so,” he claimed, even though the fox made no implication of this.
He sighed, watching as Elayra created spacing between the logs. He moved the top piece half an inch when she was done, just so he would be the last one to touch the pile. She would not get the credit for his masterpiece.
"To answer your question, I have been camping. Plenty of times." He left out the fact that his dad did most of the work. Ghent had been too busy eating their s'mores supplies to pay attention to how a fire was started.
Hearing Margen's bark, Ghent stopped adjusting Elayra's corrections and turned his head to see what their fuzzy companion was up to. He moved closer, fascinated by the fox's work. The lowly log was now a magical club.
"Whoa, sweet!" Ghent liked this a lot better than the dagger Elayra let him borrow. He reached to take the non-glowy end, but Margen tapped his nose to his hand, surprising him. Ghent had avoided contact with the creature in the fear of being shocked, but he didn't feel any pain. He felt a small tingle go through his hand and up his arm, reminding him of the magic that had seemed to welcome him to Wonderland.
"Thanks for everything, Margen." Ghent had just enough time to scratch him behind the ears. He had a bad feeling this was the fox's way of saying goodbye.
His heart sank as his suspicions were confirmed. He watched the blue aura until it faded into the dangers of the dark. There went his only friend in Wonderland.
Ghent didn’t have time to mourn the loss. He turned to glare at Elayra, his fraction of warm feelings toward her snuffed out like a candle’s flame.
"Seriously?! Two seconds ago, you were thanking me!" Ghent began to wish he had run off with Margen. His eyes went wide at the next insult, prompting him to rise to his feet.
The groan from Drust put their argument on hold. Ghent felt weak all over, his heartbeat picking up in speed. The Knight was waking up.
Yanking the pack from his shoulders, Ghent opened the flap and reached half his arm inside. His fingers brushed against something cool, possibly metal, and dozens of other things he didn’t have time to identify.
Silently, he begged the pack to operate. He did his best to concentrate on the rope and not the fact that Drust was probably plotting his revenge.
Out of nowhere, the back of Ghent's hand knocked against something coiled and coarse. He grabbed it, a small sigh of relief passing through his lips. The rope.
"I got it!" he sounded out of breath as he tore the rope from the bag. He grabbed the log from the ground and leaped over the former Jenga tower to get to Elayra, narrowly missing the structure with the heel of his sneaker.
”Quick! Help me roll him over,” Ghent thrust the rope into Elayra's hands, his expression tight with worry. He raised the log halfway, reading the man for signs of being violent. “We'll hogtie him!"
Hey again. ^^' Unfortunately, I think I will have to drop this role play. I haven't been writing as much lately, and I've slowly lost interest as a result. I apologize for that, but it was fun while it lasted. Thank you for writing with me!
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