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Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current Anyone else ever get jealous of their character's weapon(s)?
4 likes
4 mos ago
When you spend hours upon hours hunting for the perfect--or at least near perfect--character picture online, then stumble on one that works... already saved in your folders.
12 likes
6 mos ago
When you're writing a dark, brutal scene, and your playlist throws in an Irish jig.
9 likes
9 mos ago
Writing is creating both images and music simultaneously. Tangible, yet not. Good writing must flow, must sing. But above all, it must make us feel.
6 likes
10 mos ago
Sleep schedule? What sleep schedule?
8 likes

Bio



Most Recent Posts

Arla suppressed a shudder at the creeping thought of his real diet that his comment returned to the forefront of her mind. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Frieda trusted him. That she wasn’t on the menu. And, if she was, someone would know what had happened if she couldn't fend him off. But he wasn’t the monsters that had chased her down. He hadn’t even come after her when she’d ran off before. Instead, he’d taken a nap. Not the most monster-like choice.
“I’m sure that’s it.” She used a grin to push away the thoughts. “Popeye would be proud!”
She trailed after him, staying a step behind and to his side. She cast the train cars quick glances, searching for anything that made each one stand out. After all, she’d have to remember how to get to the correct one on her own at some point.
She blinked at the half vampire in surprise at his response to her question.
“Wait, for real? Never?” Her brows rose slightly. She inhaled to add another question, but Rayth continued and looked to her.
Realizing he was trying to gauge her age, she took a slight step away and angled herself more toward him to give him a better chance at the right conclusion. She glanced down at herself, his calculating gaze reminding her exactly how much of a mess she looked. For all she knew, though, that had added to her acceptance into the circus. She’d heard the ‘pathetic homeless girl’ look could work wonders.
“Good guess,” Arla said with an approving nod. “I'll make sure to add 'good night vision' to the confirmed list of vampiric superpowers!” She offered a disbelieving smile. A day ago, she'd have laughed at the thought of saying that with any form of seriousness. “I’ll be seventeen next month.”
She glanced over to the next train car as they neared. She looked back fully to Rayth. Her head cocked slightly to the side.
“So, are half-vampires that rare,” she began, remembering her unspoken question, “or are you just that much of a hermit?”
Elayra’s suspicion only grew when Ghent answered a little too quickly.
Her brows rose as he continued, his answer less than reassuring.
“[i]Seriously?[i] How long does it take you to change?” She rolled her eyes with a small shake of her head. Her expression turned into a scowl at his last order. “I’m not your personal bandersnatch, Featherhead!”
All the same, she turned from his hiding spot and returned to their backpacks. She shoved the tip of her saber back into the ground with a bit of extra irritation-fueled force.
“If you’re going to take all afternoon, I’m changing.” She knelt down beside her pack and opened it. She pulled out a plain set of grayish pants that had once been black, and a thin, long-sleeved off-white shirt.
Elayra wrong out her hair as well as she could, then changed out quickly, tossing her wet clothes to the ground. She shivered as the warmth of the dry garments replaced the chill of the river-laden ones. She hadn’t realized how cold the water had made her.
She rubbed her hands together for the extra warmth, then secured the sheath of her newly acquired stiletto into her replacement pair of boots. She looked longingly to her discarded shoes, the now useless sheath of her blue-bladed dagger hidden inside.
She snatched the boot from the ground and pulled out the sheath. Anger at the simple loss heated her chest. She posed to throw its small scabbard in the water after the dagger, but she hesitated. With a huff, she instead tossed it into her backpack.
She glanced to the sopping mess of her water-logged clothes, then to her current mostly clean shirt. She sighed heavily. The color wasn’t exactly the best for blending in with the woods.
She cast a glance to Ghent’s chosen tree, then plunged her arm back into her pack.
“Cot. Leg room. Better company than a guy who smells like month-old onions.” Arla shrugged. “A train sounds like heaven.”
Exactly how cliché her question about his age had been washed over her when he laughed. She cringed inwardly, frowning, but instead of pointing that out, he offered a playful reprimand. Her smile returned.
She shrugged lightly. “The rules of social engagement are overrated.”
She blinked at him when he gave his age. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze trialed after him as he hurried ahead of her, trying to decide whether he was being serious, or messing with her. Deciding he’d answered seriously, she made a mental note that even half-vampires were, indeed, some form of immortal.
“Well, aren’t you fancy?” She nodded her thanks to him for opening the gate. “Must say, you look pretty good for your age, Gramps.” She smirked at him as she strode out into the trainyard behind the fairgrounds.
A pleasant shudder ran through her as she stepped into the shadow cast by the fence. The light from the fairground still spilled over into the trainyard, but it was a relief to be away from the worst of the artificial glare.
She stepped aside and turned quickly to face Rayth, not yet willing to keep her back to the half-bloodscuker.
Movement caught her eye further down the fence. Someone had pointed a few floodlights toward a section of train cars. She squinted at the stinging light. The illumination turned the forms of workers into blurred, vaguely human-shaped blotches as they loaded equipment onto the train.
She looked away quickly, the night coming into focus easier than the hazy workers. She looked back to Rayth, waiting for him to lead the way to the passenger cars.
“So, what,” she began, “Do you age slower, or are you an eternal teenager?”
Noticing Rayth’s distracted gaze, she started to turn her head to see what had apparently caught his attention, but he refocused on her and responded to her answer. A proud grin tugged at her lips as his mention of the casinos. “I managed to sneak into one, once. Wouldn’t say you’re missing out on much.”
Her expression deepened, remembering how close she’d come to getting caught by security. Thankfully, they’d been understaffed that day, and she’d been there with another friend on a dare, further stretching their resources. He’d gotten caught, sure, but the weasel deserved it, and at least had the loyalty to not rat her out.
She’d heard that the place had increased security measures after that.
Rayth’s own answer drew her from the short-lived reverie.
Albuquerque?” she repeated through a chortle. Of all the places she’d expect a vampire to be from, Albuquerque hadn’t made it to the consideration list. The thought of one being from anywhere in America just seemed strange.
The surprised amusement at his hometown wiped from her face at his next question. She looked from him to the ground in front of their feet.
“I needed to get out of town, a.s.a.p.,” she began, her tone darkening. “Saw an advertisement for the circus at the station, and LA happened to be the next bus out.” Trying to re-lighten her own mood, she looked back to him. “Let me tell you, jumping on the next one available without checking how long it’ll take is not a good idea. I swear. Longest. Bus ride. ever. And I’m pretty sure the teller overcharged me,” she added, scowling at the ever nearing fence.
Eager to change the subject, she took a slight step further from him and looked him over with a calculating eye.He certainly didn’t look old enough to get into a casino on his own, but the statement had made her wonder. If he was only half immortal—if that part about vampires was even true—did he still age the same way as a human? Or was he secretly old as dirt?
“So,” she continued raising her gaze to meet his, “how old are you, anyway?”
Catching Dan’s eyes widen at the show of her frustrations, Anora groaned inwardly. If he’d been nervous before, she feared her outburst would only make it worse.
Her head had already begun to throb, deciding full-heartedly that now was a great time for a headache. Her stomach gnawed at her, demanding she feed it.
She was in no mood to keep dealing with Dan’s near indecipherable answers.
She blinked, surprised, when the man instead relaxed, sinking back into his seat. Even his ever-wringing hands fell still. She eyed him, trying to figure him out. Did he actually prefer hostility?
As if her action had been just the right prompt, for the first time, Dan responded in a way she understood without having to sift through his verbal fillers. For a moment, Anora could only stare, shocked at the drastic change in his tone and speech patterns.
She grimaced at the reminder of the spidery blouth from the hospital. And, like Darsby, Dan apparently had a heightened sense of smell. She hadn’t even touched the things, and he could smell them on her.
Curious, she pulled the collar of her shirt up, making the chains clipped to the side jingle lightly, and sniffed at it. The only scent she picked up on was the faint hint of laundry detergent that had somehow survived this crazed day.
Her attention snapped back to Dan as he continued. Her eyes narrowed at his practiced, mechanical tone. She met his gaze, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was almost like he’d been programmed, reverting to his default state with the right trigger. Before she could think much deeper on it, his words called for her full attention.
Her violet eyes widened at the apparent strength of the being they were up against.
Several solar systems?” she hissed, but the gentle rush of the briny wind through Ahllasta’s open window and Dan continuing drowned out her voice.
She let out a quick, disbelieving breath at his ‘second job.’ Despite his words, there was a sickening brusqueness to it, like someone stating they’d prefer to have the whole cake, but would happily settle for just a slice. Only it was people he was talking about. Billions of them. But to him, it sounded like it was nothing but business.
Her hand fisted against the seat. Sparks of purple and gold puffed to involuntary life around her fingers for a second as angry heat rose to her cheeks at Dan’s relative indifference. It took her a moment to force herself to refocus on the man’s words.
“I what now?” Incredulous surprise pushed her anger aside for a moment. “In a [i]war?[i]” She huffed out a breath, turned around, and leaned heavily back into her seat. She looked down, gaze and jaw tense. “A war you expect to kill billions of people!
There was no way she would let that happen. Somehow, there had to be a way to avoid losing over half the people of the world. To avoid a war between an intergalactic invasion party and overpowered god-level wizard. A war she apparently had enough of a part in to get the attention of a bunch of psychics. Prophets. Whatever his blasted ‘Seers Guild’ was.
She let out a dark, hysterical chortle at the thought as she reached for her open backpack at her feet. This whole thing had thrown ‘insane’ out the window long ago. She didn’t think there even was an English adjective strong enough that would work for the situation.
She pulled out another of dwindling supply of granola bars and started to open it. She glanced out the windshield just long enough to realize they were already approaching a coastline. She paused, staring out at the approaching civilization, the wrapper of her snack partially torn.
Until now, she hadn't even noticed the shift in lighting, the subtle—and not so subtle—indications of entering a completely different time zone. The now morning sun glittered off of windows in the distance, turning the city into a spectral to behold.
She shook her head lightly and ripped the granola bar open. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised they had made a fifteen-hour flight in a matter of maybe half an hour, give or take.
“So what is it you plan on doing about Pahn, Monster Mash?” she snapped, returning to the issue at hand. She tossed the wrapper into her bag. “Figure out where he is, then call in an armada? Confront him yourself?”
Yep, I'm still around! Disappear frequently without warning, but I'm here and up for continuing this if you are! I've read the last couple pages--we've written a lot in just a few pages!--and updated Anora's character profile a bit. Added a section with everything in her backpack so I don't randomly give her something she doesn't actually have.

That's all you can do, really, isn't it? Make the most of things? I remember you saying you were working on doing everything necessary to fully get out of the Navy. Glad it finally went through! Sorry things have still been hectic, though.

Been okay. Still alive and mostly well, that's for sure! Going to end up moving to another state here soon, thankfully. Can't wait for that, but getting there's been a pain. And it's been delayed thanks to the dang virus.
AAAAAHHHH! *Tackle-hugs you.* HI! Welcome back! :-D It's been a while! I hope things are going okay for you, and that you're staying safe amidst all the recent insanity!

Since it's been a while, I probably should back-read a bit, but will get to a response as soon as my brain lets me. I've quite missed this RP, though.
Arla shrugged at Rayth’s response, adjusting her hold on the door flap. “You should smell the locker room after track practice. Besides. Aren’t—” she cast a quick glance through the opening. Though no one else stood nearby that she could see, she lowered her voice, all the same, “vampires supposed to have super-smell or something?”
She watched him as he stepped toward her, doing her best to ignore the impulse to step away. She shrugged again at his dismissal of her perfume idea, pretending she knew what Eau de Déchets meant outside of apparent context. “Hey, it worked for Monster’s Inc.
She raised her brows at him as he passed, adding another epithet to her list.
“Woof, woof, Count von Count,” she said, letting the flap fall back into place, refusing to let him have the last line of banter.
She hurried to catch up to him, once more keeping herself between him and the party-goers.
The music from the after party still drummed through the warm night’s air, but conversations had died down, as if a majority of the guests had left. Her brows furrowed. She had no idea what time it was, but it seemed a bit early to call it a night, even by normal standards.
Wondering how many people still remained, she started to turn her head toward the covered festivities. Rayth’s voice called her attention fully back to him before she could get any kind of good look.
She ran her tongue over the back of her teeth, debating on how much to tell him. She’d practiced a cover story, down to a fake ‘hometown’ if she could get away with it. With a mental shrug, she decided the vague truth wouldn’t do any harm.
“Sorta,” she began, matching her pace to his. She looked upward to him, even the boy towering over her. Though, that wasn’t exactly the hardest thing in the world to do. “Just outside Los Vegas.” She cocked her head slightly, curiosity replacing a majority the caution in her gaze. “What about you?”
Rayth’s quick laugh made Arla jump, her expression wavering. But it melted quickly back into a half-grin as he repeated her playful insult. She shrugged one shoulder in a silent, ‘no regrets’ confirmation of what she’d said.
She returned his wink with a confused blink at his retort. “Smurf—Oh!” Remembering her recently died hair, her grin widened. She glanced up at her bangs and blew at their blue strands. “Hey. At least Smurfette had her pick of the boys in the village.”
The amusement in her emerald eyes shifted into a ready wariness as Rayth stood. She followed his gaze to the tent flaps curiously, then settled back on him as he turned to her.
She stiffened at his question, her mouth pulling down slightly in a frown. A part of her hated that he’d know where she was staying. But, she supposed, that would be unavoidable, regardless. As little as she knew about trains, she figured it’d be impossible to not bump elbows with the same person from time to time.
But then, maybe that could work for her advantage. The closer they were, the better of an eye she could keep on him. Make sure he wasn’t doing anything suspicious behind Frieda’s back. As amicable as he seemed, everyone had their secrets. Her parents’ corporate parties had taught her that much, at least.
She snorted a laugh at his apparent reasoning for wanting to leave the Big Top.
“What, tired of my stink already?” She stood and readjusted her backpack. She gave an animatedly sad sigh. “Just when I was considering bottling it. Eau de Smurf.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the exit. Keeping one eye on Rayth as discretely as she could, she pulled back one side of the entrance flaps.
Arla looked fully to him, then nodded for him to go first. “Lead the way, Mosquito Boy.”
Huzzah! Monthly post in. .

Oh, dang about the workload dump! I hope you managed to get caught up with all your classes okay. Never fun having to play catch-up like that. If you don't mind my asking, what classes are you taking?
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