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Just call me Prose.

I'm twenty four.
No Face accurately describes my appearance, I think.
I've been roleplaying for a long time.
Feel free to correct me on things.
I edit character sheets a lot.
My male characters will highly outweigh my female characters.
I reuse characters that I like.
I was in advanced writing classes at one point, it didn't make an impression on me.
I do best in high casual settings but I could probably do advanced if I put effort into it.
I hate writing personality and appearance sections, I'm bad at it.
It takes me at least four replies before my responses stop looking like garbage.
I refuse to write a first status until I can think of something good to say.
At every given moment, I'm worried that I'm annoying everyone in the thread.
I'm not as pretentious as my name might suggest.

Most Recent Posts

@Surtr Inc I'm glad you enjoyed my characters, I really had a lot of fun while my muse was still going. I'd prefer if you could just sort of knock Martin and Aliana off, if that's okay. Maybe say they died off screen or something.

Thank you for letting me be a part of this though. It was a lot of fun. <3
@Surtr Inc I may have to bow out completely, I'm really sorry. Things irl have been weird and crazy and I've lost most if not all of my muse for my characters here. I've had a lot of fun with everything though and I wish you the best in the reboot.
Niklaus Santora & Richmond Durmont

While Niklaus was useful to Richmond, Richmond had his uses for Niklaus. Of course, his usefulness hadn't come into play yet for the young dream-walker. He had only ever wanted one thing since he had been a child and that was to have ultimate and unchallenged power. The knowledge that every being in Erubesco saw him as a force to be reckoned with.

It wasn't an easy task, not in a place with a hierarchy but he intended to start small. He had found over the years that people listened to him sometimes, that he had a knack for speaking with a honey coated tongue when it suited him. He practiced into the nights, standing atop his bed and speaking to his imaginary crowds. He spoke tenderly, he made sickly sweet promises and he imagined himself as someone grand.

That was all fantasy though, it wouldn't truly count until he took his words to the street.

This was a desire that could get him imprisoned or killed, he knew that. It would be a lie to say that he had no delusions of grandeur but he knew his limits. He knew how to keep himself from getting too tangled up in his own desires. He wasn't like Richmond, endlessly chasing everything in pursuit of some picturesque existence. He wasn't like Richmond, he wasn't content with just being Lord Santora. He needed more. He expected more.

The little scientist had bouncy blond hair and curious looking golden eyes from behind her spectacles. It appeared that she harbored not one but two consecutive pupils, while this might have slipped the mind of someone more focused, it did not slip his mind. He found himself staring very intently at her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away, he perhaps stood frozen there for a moment too long. He could feel a cold hand clasp his wrist.

It's our pleasure to make you acquaintance, Miss Vasilisa. I am always excited to know more about what the scientific community is working on.” Richmond’s voice is a purr, it drips with polite falseness. “We were quite happy to be able to attend.

Niklaus nearly jumped out of his skin when a knight addressed them by screaming but brightened considerably. “Richmond, he's so shiny, look at how shiny he is.

Yes, Klaus. Let's find a seat, shall we?


Too late.
He was being pulled away by Richmond, he lead him to a seat. He sadly settled down, he rocked from side to side as he waited. He couldn't stay still, he knew that Richmond hated it when he did this but he needed to keep moving. If he didn't stop moving then he'd start tapping or clicking or well, doing anything but sitting quietly.

Richmond nodded to another man that entered, not because he recognized him, because it was important to be polite. Niklaus didn't nod, he kept his rocking up as he watched the scientist, watched the knight. He liked her eyes, he liked his shining demeanor. There were much more important things to think about.


Richmond?” He inquired brightly.

You're drawing attention, please stop rocking.

Niklaus Santora & Richmond Durmont

The tipsy-turning movement of an arachnid as it spins its web, the way it's legs cling to the fragile silvery threads. The way that thousands of tiny eyes are constantly watching, the knowing that you're being watched. The thrashing of a fly entangled in sticky silver nets, the way that it twists it's body in the pathetic and desperate hope of freeing itself.

Spinning, spinning, spinning. Spiraling, spiraling, spiraling. Intricate silver threads from one wall to another, crossing and curling. Glistening pathways from one end to another. So many links, so many things left to catch, so much to do.

It was easy to get tangled in webs. It was easy to become prey to his own desires. It was easy to become trapped. He was a very busy spider and he had a very big web, it was all just a small part of the bigger picture. Everything that became stuck to the web was just one piece of the overall image. Nothing was truly important unless it brought him closer to his goal. His childhood had been washed down too many water spouts. He had learned to be careful. He had learned to be watchful.

A good spider never catches anything unless he's prepared to wait.

This meeting was a cosmetic detail. A leaf snagged on the web. As soon as he snipped it free, it would be forgotten as it drifted back to the ground below. Appearances were important and it was important that the world saw him, it was important that he maintained what they expected of him. He had always been a very beautiful spider. He had touched up every detail before he'd left the house, one lean, long line of black.

None of it mattered.
Not really anyway.

What mattered was control.

That's what he wanted, wasn't it? Obsessive compulsive creature that he had become over the years. Every taste of control was tantalizing, every chance to capture that fly was delicious. Every moment-

Richmond, hurry up! You are so infuriatingly slow sometimes.

Niklaus Santora.
Try as he may, he had no control over Niklaus Santora. He has worked to tangle his limbs into the web, to wrestle him into submission but Niklaus was a fire that burned heedless of his efforts to contain him. Troublesome. In a way, he loved Niklaus despite how headstrong he had become. He had grown fond of the young lord, they had become family but it was hard to ignore his frustration. The man could function on his own, that was no good, it wouldn't do.

He could see him as he hurried forward. He was a flare of color, sunlight casting prismic rainbows off water droplets. He liked to be noticed and it was hard not to. He wore deep purple and blue today, stylistically, it bore some resemblance to the garb that might have been worn by an old English nobleman. His boots were soft, they had heels, he liked when he looked taller.

Details, details.
Niklaus was compensating. He was making up for what he was lacking by trying to paint himself brighter than the world around him. He was obsessive in his own way, obsessed with power and proving himself. He had to be noticed, he had to be respected, he had to have it all. He had taken to cosmetics, golden dust glimmered on his cheekbones. Nothing fantastic, just enough to draw eyes to his face.

Details, details.
Niklaus was desperate. Desperate to be something. Desperate to be someone. He poured over history. Leaders, dictators. He got this sort of envious glint in his eyes when he read about them. Some nights Richmond would hear him in his room, his voice drifting disembodied down the hallway. Speeches. Charismatic charm oozed from him when he spoke to his imaginary audiences. It unnerved him how easily Niklaus could take the persona of something he was not.

It unnerved him that he couldn't stop him from dreaming.
That was Niklaus’ speciality.

You are so slow!

Sorry, I was thinking.” he responded idly, stepping into the room with the strange looking scientist. He was inclined to dip his head to them, a distant greeting.

Niklaus was not distant in the slightest. He took his seat, leaning it back on its legs and eying the scientist with a grand and never-failing grin. “Hello, I'm Lord Santora and this is Lord Durmont.


Though the young insomniac had slept assuredly better under the influence of alcohol, he was still exhausted. It was an exhaustion that set deep into his bones. It was an exhaustion that made his every movement into a drag. He knew that he wasn't allowed to be slow today but he couldn't help it. His morning ritual was awfully dragging, he took everything one step at a time. He had been hoping to finish setting his moth today but he didn't see that happening, he'd already woken up far too late.

As he showered, he was given some time to think about the night before. All things considered, it hadn't been awful. He had been given enough alcohol that he'd been plastered and he had made a friend. He hadn't gotten to spend as much time with Colin as he'd been hoping for but he understood that business got in the way of frivolity at times. He wasn't going to over think it if he could help it.

As he lathered his hair in shampoo, he thought about the girl that he'd met. He'd greeted her through use of her coffee order and the alcohol had made him uncharacteristically confident. If she had been a man, he might have been bold enough to flirt with her. She'd been a peppery little thing with a sunshine-y personality and he had found it very refreshing.

He could be rather mopey at times but surrounding himself in people who weren't tended to make him feel better. As he rinsed the soap from his hair and cut the water, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was the start of something good. He hadn't really had any friends in an awfully long time, it was nice to think that he might have someone to hang out with now. It made him feel strangely happy.

Maybe that's why his mood was so good today despite the exhaustion that he couldn't shake. Maybe that's why he was so happy to see her name blink across the screen of his phone. He quickly dried himself off and dressed before checking the messages that awaited him. He couldn't help but smile because there was something endearing about getting triple texted by someone who just really wanted to talk to him.

He responded with flourish, qualming a smile in the still very steam-filled bathroom.

Sorry, I slept in. I hope that's not too uncool, I was a little hammered last night. Lmao, that's obvious. I'd love to join you. It's not like I've got much else to do around here. Could you pick me up?

After he sent the message, he set about brushing his teeth, using his sleeve to wipe the fog from the mirror. He brushed avidly, filling his mouth with water, spitting the froth out. He smiled at his reflection and then went about combing the messy, damp brown hair that kept falling across his forehead. He could almost ignore the deep bags beneath his eyes if he focused on the smile.

After he finished applying deodorant and spraying himself down in cologne, he was ready to face the day. He was ready to be a functioning member of society again. He made his way downstairs to get a pot of coffee brewing. He needed to smother some of this exhaustion in caffeine and he needed to take some painkillers for the headache. He assumed he'd have time.

He found himself checking his phone frequently, eager to see Eva's reply.



If there was anything in this world that Quinn knew, it was the feeling of a crash. It was the feeling of burning right before the fall, the ups and the downs of truly enjoying something.

Cole had been a high, one that he hadn't bargained for but one that he'd experienced nonetheless. He hadn't expected everything that came with that one night, she had been a conquest. She had been something to win, something he’d wanted because nobody else had her and that was the first error. Maybe he’d been hungover and stupid that next day, his head had been aching and the world had been bleary but he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He couldn't focus, he couldn't stop wondering what would happen if he saw her again. She had been something out of a dream to his drunken mind, her dark hair framing a face that he couldn't stop thinking of and how they'd connected. Like puzzle pieces, like missing a part of himself that he hadn't even been aware of. He couldn't forget her, he didn't even try.

That was the problem with Quinn, he fixated, he became obsessed with things. One night always became three more, one cigarette became an addiction and suddenly he couldn't stop thinking of excuses to see her. Maybe it was wrong of him to think of her like an addiction, maybe it was wrong to compare her to cigarettes and alcohol, a vice that he couldn't get away from.

Maybe it was wrong but Quinn knew crashes and he had crashed hard when she had left. It had been that moment of indecision, that breath where he couldn't bring himself to say “No, don't go” where he had started to feel the crash settling in. It had been that look in her eyes when he didn't ask her to stay, it had been everything.

It had been an entire pack of cigarettes smoked in his car while he recklessly drove in circles around the block, it had been a bottle of whiskey drained while he sat on the floor of his apartment and stared at the wall, these had been the symptoms of a crash and Quinn had never regretted anything more.

After she'd left, he'd started craving her, wanting her back. He'd started sending her drunken messages, things where he'd poured his heart out in hopes that she'd see him for the pathetic mess that he was without her, and nothing had worked. After awhile, the messages had stopped coming in so quick, she had stopped seeming to care so much. After awhile, she had a Darien. The name had left a very bitter taste in his mouth as soon as he had seen it, it had been like eating cigarette ash and it had made him want to vomit.

He had dated a few other people himself, of course, tried to smother the feelings that he had left to her in anyone that would give him the time of day. It hadn't been successful, it had made him feel worse on more than one occasion. She had done it though, she'd thoroughly replaced him.
He didn't know how to feel about that.

Staring at her now with his mouth curved into a smirk, he couldn't decide what he should say to her, he couldn't decide how to say it. He was angry, very deeply angry and he was hurt, very deeply hurt. She was here and she was beautiful and she wasn't here for him.I said-” the boy paused, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I said I'd RSVP, didn't I?

His tone remained neutral, impassive, things went easier when he didn't let feelings show through. Things went easier when he didn't show that he cared, they went easier when he didn't show how miserable that this all was making him. “I was invited, wasn't I? I mean, unless that was a joke, in which case,” a crease in his brow, his smile spreading wider into a grin. “You sure blew a lot of fucking money to get a room for that joke.
I've been sort of lagging behind. I'll try to get something up soon, sorry about the wait. My muse for writing is all over the place.
@Days I haven't been keeping up with anything but I'll get something up tomorrow. I have most of a reply started.

As a note to everyone, this isn't dead, just lots of life in the way of me getting things done. Very sorry for the wait!
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