Status

Recent Statuses

6 days ago
Current It is one of those frustrating weeks where multiple things are going wrong, and I simultaneously can't do anything right.
2 mos ago
Back from my trip!
3 mos ago
I am an idiot.
1 like
4 mos ago
I really want someting to write, but I know I shouldn't start a new RP until RL things cool down a little bit!
2 likes
10 mos ago
Rough day today, will get back to posting schedule tomorrow.

Bio

About Me:
I'm in my mid-30s, happily married with two young children. I've been role-playing since I was 14 years old, starting with AOL chatrooms and instant messenger (the dark days), before graduating to IRC, Gaia, RPNation, and then this website. When not roleplaying I am a GM of a raiding guild on Stormrage server, play on a couple breedable websites, listen to Kpop, consume small amounts of more adult-oriented anime, manga, TV shows (sci fi, fantasy, drama, Korean), and binge on romance.

I'd love to get to know other RP folks, especially if you're my age!

What I like/want in RPs:
Romance (necessity, I respect not everyone likes it)
At least 2 paragraphs per post
Sci Fi, (High, Low, Urban) Fantasy, Futuristic, Supernatural, some modern or psuedo-historical
Someone who plays male characters
Plots that allow me not to have to write realistic melee action (but I love to read it!)
Characters 18+
Players 18+
Intrigue/mystery in a story
Cooperative world building

What I don't like:
Players under 18
Children or teenage characters
Western or prehistoric settings
Plots with only action
Almost all furry/anthro pairings
G-rated romance

Message me if you think we'd be good RP partners for each other! Please note I do require romance, though I certainly do NOT want that to be the summation of the story. I also adore romances that have conflict and disagreement just like actual real relationships have. Some mundanes/players believe that all love stories develop "organically" in the story- but my real life experience has taught me you can have no chemistry with someone that would be great for you, all the chemistry in the world for someone you never thought you'd like, and romance is not 'organic' and predictable in practice. As a mundane/player we make the decision for romance because, quite frankly, we aren't the characters no matter how alive they might feel. They don't truly exist physically to have chemistry. If you feel differently we will not be a good fit for each other.

Additionally, I require players separate themselves from this characters. This should go without saying, but just because we write a romance together does not mean there are real feelings beneath. I am truly happily married. Please, please, please don't expect any fiction to translate into real life.

Most Recent Posts

At first the doctor looked legitimately baffled when Luke so casually brought up the alternative treatments available. While he was intimately aware of the difference between the capital and the villages littering the outskirts of the country, it was becoming quickly apparent his prince was not. The physician had assumed the visual clues and his earlier allusions would have led the heir to the natural conclusion there were limitations caused by the local populace's poverty. What he failed to anticipate was how relatively sheltered Luke had been. That was not to say he had not endured hardship, or had been coddled inside the palace, but rather he had not felt the very real pains of going without provisions that could greatly impact the quality of life. Every member of the living world had challenges regardless of their position in the social strata. Whether or not he could impart understanding of the plight of the poor specifically remained to be seen.

"It is not a lack of training, your highness," the doctor replied briskly with slight offense. "This particular medical facility has a smaller budget than what you may be used to," he tried to diplomatically and tactfully explain. There were only so many polite ways to say that the health of the affluent and city dwellers was valued more highly than the citizens that toiled the field. "I am familiar with Flexegard but, with the number of injuries we treat and what is distributed to us by the capitol, plaster casts are what we can provide. You are welcome to review our orders and shipments yourself; it is a matter of public record."

No bureaucrat bothered themselves with worrying over individual clinics and practices. Requests were submitted to the committee, clerks slashed numbers as they saw fit, sent their analysis upward, and government funds were distributed accordingly. Luke operated on the premise that everyone under him had a similar code of ethics and would not have a bias that impacted their work. The sad reality was that they did; accounting was tweaked to benefit the municipalities that had more political sway, to the detriment of outlying communities that had much less voice. Queen Camilla and her subordinates weren't calling on individuals to spot check the accuracy. This doctor and his patient were just nameless, faceless numbers, easily ignored, easily dismissed.

"One of my nurses was dead on her feet and had to be sent home. The other is with an expectant mother at the moment," the man explained again. "We are the only three staff here," he said as he stood. Cold calculations had determined only three were absolutely 'necessary' upon review. Once when he had first moved to the village he had protested this apparent madness but had been unable to convince anyone to give him payroll for another person. The figurative pencil pusher alleged he had everything required to meet the needs of the local residents. Of course the person that sent the formal refusal had not once set foot anywhere near the town.

"I'll apply the sling," the doctor agreed with Luke's reassurance he could keep Rhiane from ripping it off at the first opportunity. "Please excuse me while I find it among the supplies. You can use my mobile but the storm," he gestured vaguely towards the covered window, "may interrupt connectivity. We do not have the best of reception on days with poor weather." It was a vast understatement but he didn't have the patience to describe the technological pitfalls in the area as well. A more petty streak in him wanted the crown prince who thought so highly of himself, who took his privilege for granted, to experience a small sampling of their frustrations. He dug a device out of his pocket that was several years old and handed it over casually before strolling out of the room to both give privacy and seek the sling in question.
"I appreciate you are concerned for Miss Black, your highness," the doctor said slowly without moving from his chair. Across the room Luke could more clearly see his fiancee. She was still dressed in the same clothes from earlier in the day but was thoughtfully covered with both freshly laundered bleached white sheets and a thick handmade blanket knitted in a dark yarn. The IV made it necessary for her arms to be outside the warm coverings, but she would have been dry and comfortable even if she had been awake. When they had been rescued from the wreckage of the SUV her long hair had been loose, wet, and tangled, but someone- presumably a nurse- had brushed and expertly braided the thick tresses over her right shoulder in a style peasant and nobility alike could appreciate. Regardless of their inability to persuade the princess elect into accepting their recommendations for treatment, the clinic's staff had not neglected her.

"Miss Black's arm is fractured," the man explained. "There are two options available. The first is to put her arm in a sling. This was offered to her already, but she was emphatic she would not use it, that she would immediately take her arm out of it, and it'd be put to better use on someone who needs it. Ultimately if she follows through with that threat she could exacerbate the injury." It was the most polite way of saying that Rhiane could could be stubborn and irrational enough to harm herself more than she was already. The doctor wanted to help the former farmer, but he would not do anything to jeopardize her health. He had taken the oath but he also had a conscience; if he knew that his actions would compel her to take drastic measures that would make her worse off than when she began, he would be failing her as a physician.

"Alternatively, we could put her in a plaster cast, but we wouldn't have time to do so before she wakes from the sedative. It would be harder for her to remove and would provide better stabilization for the bone, but it also would be more of a challenge to replace later, especially if she remains... uncooperative." What the doctor didn't explicitly state and Luke would know was that a plaster cast was cheap, easily applied, and effective, but it wasn't as efficient as what was readily available in the capital. Medical advancements in the last hundred years alone had perfected numerous types of both braces and casts manufactured from a combination of synthetic materials that were less obtrusive, had superior mobility, and didn't require a bag put over them to bathe properly. No one in the castle had ever had a plaster cast- not even the servants.

The royal infirmary didn't have the limitations of this rural medical center. As crown prince it was undoubtedly a foreign experience to be told treatment options were not available. Any and all medication that Queen Camilla and her family could ever want or need were stocked or could be immediately delivered. Money was no obstacle so she was able to employ the mostly highly trained experts, afford all the newest innovations, and make purchases that weren't available to the lords and ladies of her court much less the general populace. The commoners wallowing in poverty did not have the same resources. Nurses and doctors didn't want to live in a hovel in a village on the border. Pharmaceutical companies could manipulate bureaucracy and have their products labeled as 'elective' so the prices could be inflated, pumping up their profits, but barring laborers from being able to realistically procure them. Shipments with the best supplies were routed first to major cities were the affluent resided.

"Distrust of doctors is not that uncommon," the man remarked quietly. "I have had several patients with her mindset, though none that I recall that have refused a sling because they think someone else would be more deserving. I was hopeful that you might be able to talk to her and keep her calm enough we can convince her to eat at least. She asked for you repeatedly," he added, waiting to see the prince's response. He was not a fool. Everyone had seen the same broadcasts and had their suspicions about the veracity about the allegations of love between the engaged pair. It was possible their relationship was not strong enough he could quiet her with hysterical- or he might simply not care to try.
The doctor was sitting in a chair approximately two feet away from the left side of Luke's bed with a book in his lap. The room was dimly lit and empty save for the crown prince, his fiancee, and the single physician, who was relaxing with a novel as he waited for his patient to awake. Four of the beds were unoccupied, including the two to Luke's right, and Rhiane lay sound asleep in the one directly opposite his. A single IV was the only equipment attached to her person. Undoubtedly she had been sedated much as he had been but the effects of the medication had yet to abate.

"We thought lowering the lights would help encourage your body to rest," the doctor mused aloud once he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He fell quiet a minute more before pulling a bookmark out of his coat pocket and marking the page. When he closed the book he finally looked directly at his charge and gave him his undivided attention. "Miss Black is fine," he added before there was a repeat performance of the heir to the throne swinging his legs over the side of the bed in a misguided attempt to aid his betrothed. "She declined treatment for her arm and ethically since her life is not in danger we could not compel her to heed our advice. Once she recalled the collision she became increasingly distressed and we administered pain medication and something to help her sleep before she caused actual harm to herself."

Reading between the lines Luke could wager a guess that Rhiane was more than merely uncooperative. She was not antagonistic, but she viewed medical professionals with a thinly veiled distrust and mild hostility, and coupled with her emotions over the accident it was no small miracle they had kept her from leaping out of her bed and bolting away. The local clinic could not exercise any authority over the princess elect either; Luke had been unconscious and Queen Camilla far removed from the situation. Rhiane was the only person that could make decisions for herself. Irrational judgment had prevailed, leaving the doctor with no options except to induce slumber and hope someone later could talk sense into the woman.

"Your retinue is on its way but delayed by a resurgence in the storm," he said with a motion to the window. The curtains were drawn shut for privacy but he could hear a torrent of rain hitting the roof above and pouring down the glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance but this had not been the primary concern of his entourage. Every five to ten seconds there was an audible gust that rattled the exterior fixtures of the building menacingly. Nolan and Tobias would not be pleased at this turn of events but since they knew that the couple were alive and not in imminent danger, as well as being relatively cared for, it was best to not risk having a second or third SUV run off the road in ominous conditions. Not even the reigning monarch and all her technology could completely overcome the threat of Mother Nature.

"We've put a brace on you," he noted, referring to a firm molded plastic cushioned with foam that was pressed against his side. It restricted movement purposefully. "You cracked a few ribs which why we recommend you laying on your back when possible to avoid putting weight or pressure on them. We've also cleaned the cut on your thigh and applied a fresh bandage. Unfortunately that is the best we can do for you with the resources available here. I had to send one of my nurses home and the other is attending an expecting mother, so I will remain here with you until your transportation arrives."

There were several idiosyncrasies about the rural clinic. The doctor who was addressing Prince Luke enunciated his words with a soft clip that was unheard of with the lower classes. Given his comfort with the prince, the way he spoke, and his general manners he was not born a peasant like Rhiane- either he was middle-class or lower upper-class to have the apparent refinement. Additionally the clinic, which at a glance was in a state of disrepair, was exceedingly clean. Every instrument within sight was carefully arranged and shining in the soft illumination. The linens, while cheap, faded, and some threadbare, were clean and devoid of any grime. Broken and cracked tiles had been recently scrubbed and were almost as immaculate as when a maid swept through his quarters. This might be a place inhabited and used by the poor but it was not dusty or filthy. Familiar as a sight like this was for the former farmer, it was likely a first for Luke.

"Is there anything I can get you?" The doctor checked his watch. It was a simple device, an antique by the capital's standards, but functional. "I can wake Miss Black if you choose, but she should be awake within the next ten minutes otherwise."
"I can see you're already thinking ahead to being married," she teased with a bemused grin that forced her to briefly pause applying a liquid pen to the edges of her eyelids. The dark color was a stark contrast to her complexion and helped draw attention to the vivid blue of her eyes even more than the wig could accomplish alone. "Wisely choosing a better ending to a sentence so that your beloved will not chastise you."

It wasn't an entirely empty threat. Solae understood his fears and trepidation in moving forward with legalizing their relationship formally, but she was not worried about the consequences. Many aristocrats would balk at the notion that love's importance superseded reputation in the courts. The marquise, however, was willing to sacrifice a great many things more than being held in high regard if she was able to come home to someone who genuinely loved her. For some becoming a duchess was their greatest dream; hers were not nearly as narrow. Even if she and Rene parted ways at some juncture she would still probably become a social pariah if she began to advocate for the rights of the subjugated Syshin.

"If there truly is a vault it will change things," she said firmly as she stood up and strolled over to the armchair over which her undergarments had been draped. How Ten had so accurately determined the sizing was a mystery she would leave forever unexplored. Her paramour had probably also been both amazed and disturbed that his were so precisely fitted. "Think of all the implications," she continued as she stepped into one and clasped on the other casually. "We might not uncover a murderer instantly but we will have leverage on people here, but also on people allied with Duke Tan, and those that might have information vital to our goals. Just because some intelligence isn't actionable to the Empress doesn't mean we couldn't use it to convince people to help us."

With a smile she took the dress from Rene's hands and stepped into it, then wiggled it into place with a practiced ease. Once it had been zipped close she curled up her hair and quickly pulled on the wig. It was quite the transformation. None of her facial features had been changed by prosthetics but the cosmetics, wigs, and attire gave the illusion of her being an entirely different person. Had Rene not seen her put on the disguise he could have very well passed her on the street more than once before feeling more than a fleeting, and easily dismissed, moment of familiarity.

There was a rap at the door. "If you're ready the car is waiting for us," Ten called out through the closed portal. "If are quick we'll be able to leave the bank and get back here in time for breakfast with no one the wiser. Ah, and you are welcome to keep all three dresses if you approve, Solae. I do not have a use for women's designer clothing and none of my staff has your sizing. I'll have them hung up for you while we are gone if you like."

"That is very kind of you," Solae replied with a wink to Rene. She was far more interested in how much he liked the dresses on her than how much she liked them on herself. Given his reactions thus far she had half a mind to see what else she could find to provide temptation. It was strange. She hadn't really worried over what prior suitors thought of her appearance, but she was quite invested in Rene's perception, and found herself sincerely enjoying when he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Her mother would have been exasperated; perhaps she was sighing from the afterlife if there was such a thing.
Bump.
"You... you.." she murmured as her eyes began to flit close before she found the fortitude to inhale sharply and force them back open. It was a half-hearted and half-realized accusation that she knew he had made her swallow a pill that made it so incredibly difficult for her to stay awake. Despite any buried anger she had over him imposing his will, which would undoubtedly surface later, she didn't resist him as he helped navigate her back upright. Compromised as she was, she intuitively trusted Luke. He was stubborn, rude, and condescending, but not once had he done anything to harm her. If anything, he had proven himself to be more concerned about her physical health than she was on a whole.

As he paused to take the pain medication she started to drift inwardly. Rhiane's mind was trapped in a place between dreams and reality, floating in a pleasant hazy reverie, idle musings and thoughts stealing her attention. Her gaze was distant and unfocused until her sloth-like senses caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She stared unabashedly as the prince pulled off his shirt and offered it to her. Until this moment she had been overly cautious and controlled in avoiding looking at him in such a way. Luke was handsome but she had not wanted to appeared like one his giggling, vapid, smitten fans that openly oogled him. The last couple days had been an increasingly struggle not to steal a look here or there when he rolled up his sleeves, shrugged on a coat, or fidgeted with his clothes. Now that she drowsy composure and inhibitions were cast off, she gawked, drinking in the sight of his torso without an ounce of comprehension this spoke to things she was trying to keep hidden.

Belatedly she glanced down as he draped the garment over her shoulders and arms. She had just begin about to protest, to say something about how she wasn't uncomfortable, how she didn't need two shirts, but then he spoke. Rhiane blinked slowly twice and gave a soft sigh. The far reaches of her psyche screamed that answering his question would be catastrophic to any future attempts to salvage and explain away the kiss they shared. Actions spoke louder than words, but she had at least a chance to persuade him he had been mistaken, that the drugs had induced her affections. Rhiane didn't hear the warnings. It would soon be crystal clear she was not a woman without romantic yearning.

"I've wanted to kiss you," she confessed in a gentle voice that had an ethereal quality. There was no doubt the sedative was increasingly affecting her. Rhiane had always been candid with him but not quite so forthcoming as she was now. "I didn't want you to find out I like you, so I couldn't kiss you," she exhaled, curling her fingers on her good hand as they clasped the dry fabric of his shirt. "You'd laugh at me," she remarked casually as her eyelids drooped.

Her anxiety about his reaction was not completely irrational. Luke had professed he was his mother's son and he was not wrong. The passive expectation of the nobility, and those peasants shrewd enough to understand the currents of higher society's politics, would be that Luke would tolerate Rhiane at best. He wouldn't willingly kiss her, hold her, or sleep with her more than was absolutely necessary. He had not only failed to convince her he was different, he had agreed when she pointed out his arrogant contempt for her station, and unknowingly rejected her opportunities to reciprocate his advances. Rhiane was not foolish enough to assume he'd like her even platonically. Aristocrats laughed at her behind her back, just as they had done for the breeding spouses before her. Perhaps Luke did not once consider it, but given how quickly Queen Camilla discarded of his father, she almost certainly laughed at the man if he was earnestly in love with her.

"It's fine," she whispered. Her head dipped to the side her as her neck abdicated responsibility for keeping it raised. Long dark strands partially obscured her features as they flowed over cheek. Rhiane's coherence was slipping farther but she had not finished fighting slumber. She was nothing if not stubborn. "Just... just need time to... figure out how to stop. Maybe Tobias..." Her words frustratingly faded away upon mention of his cousin's name.

What she had meant to explain was that she planned to use Tobias as a crutch to determine how to make her relationship with Luke more intimate yet in a proper, platonic manner. The princess elect's halted sentence, however, insinuated something much more distressing to her fiance. Without any further context, and with the knowledge Luke possessed that Tobias was fixated on the darling of the masses, it suggested that his competition had a strong foothold in Rhiane's heart. This was not at all true, but Rhiane was soundly asleep and unable to provide clarification, her head finally resting snugly on Luke's shoulder as she was consumed deep rest.
Over the last week it had been easy for Rhiane to convince herself that Luke was completely disinterested in her physically. There had been the engagement ball when he had expressed a desire to keep their relationship perfunctory, expressed his intense dissatisfaction with the arrangement, and then promptly abandoned her. Despite the best efforts of the palace to conceal the scandal from her, she had not been able to miss the sensationalist news proclaiming that the actress Sophia had drawn him away. It was her first taste of rejection. Again and again he had made it clear that his tastes for women were elevated above peasants. Rhiane knew her invitation to Evolab had almost certainly been to make his paramour jealous rather than to display a change of heart for their partnership. Luke had flirted once and teased her, but that was only idle playing, and she had believed he would have never let it go beyond seeing her reactions before dismissing her. At best she was a toy to alleviate his boredom.

To say that Luke had the element of surprise was a vast understatement. Her hardened belief that Luke was not-so-secretly disgusted at her being left her stunned as he manipulated her to her back. She was was so shocked at her fiance's actions she had been unable to process the pain in her arm much less his intentions before he closed his lips over hers. The pill easily fell into her mouth and rested on her tongue. Just as suddenly as he initiated the kiss he had released her and whispered his demand she swallow it. Rhiane stared back at him uncomprehending. What he was trying to accomplish eluded her as she simply looked at him breathless, flushed a brilliant shade of red, awestruck and flustered beyond any inch of eloquence.

Twice he had kissed her. The first had been in the pizza parlor and the second had been just now, in their battered SUV, with the rain rhythmically cascading over the roof before running down the windows in grey waterfalls. Both times she had been equally surprised by his gesture. Both times she had been visibly uncertain what to do and froze in the moment. The third time, however, was the proverbial charm. Instead of simply passively accepting she reciprocated without thinking of the consequences. Whatever plan she had to resist and disobey his order was temporarily forgotten as she reflexively swallowed the pill. Her throat easily pulled the medication into her stomach where it began to dissolve.

Rhiane knew in the back of her mind she was making a mistake as she pressed her lips back against his. There was an intangible spark, something she had tried to disbelieve the existence of, something that made her heartbeat quicken despite the sedative that was beginning to quickly work its magic. It was a rush completely unlike what she had experienced with the men of her past. All of them had been easy to leave the moment they had achieved mutual satisfaction. Perhaps it was because they did not bother to get to know another she had managed to avoid romance so long it was a foreign entity. Regardless of the reason, it was evident that Rhiane was not so detached as she feigned, that she had managed to have feelings contrary to her philosophy, that the distance between them was a barrier to the fluttering beneath her breast.

She liked Luke. She didn't like him because he was a prince, because they were betrothed, because he possessed material worth many girls would swoon over, or even because he was more handsome than any other man with which she was acquainted. She would have liked him if he was a simple merchant, a fisherman, a worker on a vineyard, or an accountant whose career lacked any semblance of prestige or excitement. What Rhiane liked was what arguably no predecessor the playboy embraced before did: his obstinate, argumentative nature. He had been the source of seemingly endless frustration but she enjoyed their verbal combat on some level, how they pushed each other to reconsider perspectives, how they challenged one another to not safely tread water mentally. His intelligence, even when she felt it was misapplied, was admirable, his sense of responsibility and willingness to endure it stupefying, and his calm courage captivating.

With her shameful secret exposed she was seized by a fleeting sensation of panic before it was washed away by a creeping drowsiness. The eager sincerity with which she had met his third kiss had started to slacken and abate. Rhiane was fighting the siren call of sleep as her breathing began to slow and she struggled to not let it make her conscious thoughts fuzzy. No amount of willpower would overcome this obstacle. The chemical concoction compromised her ability to keep herself composed and awake to combat the reality of Luke's discovery. She couldn't claim he was mistaken, deny her participation, or try to mitigate the damage this would inevitably do to their understanding of each other. If anything, this haze would only cause her to be excessively forthcoming in the sparse minutes they had before her valiant efforts were conquered by the sedative.
"I am beginning to even more deeply regret that I didn't know you back when you were on Capella," Solae mused with a coy smile on her lips. "Not that I mind the military fatigues, as most ladies appreciate a man in uniform even if they are unwilling to admit it aloud, but I can only imagine how dashing you looked in those fashions. You had best prepare yourself for what my demands will be once I have you at the altar," she teased as she kissed his cheek.

The marquise was not entirely joking. She did have regrets they had not met earlier in life, prior to the false accusations lobbied against him, and his subsequent fall to grace. There was a pivotal part of his past with which she could never be as intimately acquainted as she would have liked. It was hard not to speculate how differently their paths would have twisted and turned had they met as younger versions of themselves. Perhaps she would have caught his eye rather than the handmaiden that claimed his heart. Admittedly such courtship could have culminated in her murder instead of Amellia's if the true motive behind the slaying was to displace Rene, but her lingering petty jealousy for the deceased woman persisted, as well as a yearning for the impossibility of being entwined with his prior nobility while it was still sparkling in innocent brilliance.

Ten had left a few items for Solae to choose from for her disguise. A small treasure trove of cosmetics had been delivered to their suite and left on an antique vanity where she could properly apply them. The alleged criminal had proven his wisdom in not trying to select brands or shades for his noble guest; despite all the trends set by titled ladies, it was exceedingly rare for any two individuals to have precisely the same taste. It might strike Rene as odd to being worried about concealer and lipstick in their circumstances, but it would bring more attention for her to be dressed well and be absent touches of a brush, since very few females believed their genetic enhancements elevated them to perfection. Both genders were vain, critical, and insecure when it came to aesthetics.

"I've never been a brunette," she mused aloud. Two wigs had been hung from the opposite sides of the vanity's mirror. One was a short, darker, stylish bob with a slanted bang that was modern couture among the central sector. The other was a timeless elegance lace-front in honeyed brown that had soft curls from the shoulders to just above the bust. Solae pulled the second option into her lap as she sat down and began to hold a locket against powders and pencils to find an exact match. Once she was satisfied with a gel instrument she leaned forward, still nude, and drew on her blonde eyebrows to artificially darken them. It was not nearly as fetching a hue as her natural prized golden, but the darker tint drew more attention to the brilliant color of her eyes.

"Would you like to pick the dress while I'm pre-occupied?" she offered. Three had been carefully arranged for her review. Once again Ten did not presume her style. He had made a very educated guess, to be certain, but he erred on the side of caution and did not leave her without some choice. Right now Solae was indebted to the merchant and broker for the assistance he was providing, but he had made his intentions clear to create a lasting alliance, one that was mutually beneficial. It was in his best interests to please Solae than antagonize her simply because he had the opportunity to do so. Ten was nothing if not a shrewd businessman. All three dresses were sleeveless and had skirts that ended just above the knee. The first was of a lilac suiting material with a belt and a slit that exposed a pleated silk underskirt. Her second was black and grey, utilizing color blocks to accentuate an hourglass figure, and of a slightly stretchable material that would be snug on the body. The last was a deep sapphire blue wrap accentuated with a dyed animal skin tie around the waist.

"Are you anxious?" Solae inquired more softly. "If this vault exists there is a very real possibility that something about your family might be there." It was a thought that kept consuming her. She still held doubt despite Ten's absolute confidence that her parents were the keeper of potent secrets. No matter her reservations, however, it gave her hope they might find some advantage against Duke Tan and keeping themselves alive. Solae had to know the truth, and for Rene's sake she couldn't turn her back on what could finally set him free.
Added two more plots.

At this time my current RPs are fade-to-black, so I am only looking for one that is not.

I am open to historical but I don't want 'slice of life' wherein there is no overarching conflict, issue, or problem for our characters to face that is somewhat extraordinary. Give me something to write that is not part of my daily life!

I apologize to anyone who messaged me last month. One of my RP partners came back and saw my post, and I got so excited it ended up consuming all my attention for a bit as I refreshed myself on where we left things off.
Rhiane had already been anxious about what she would see underneath his expensive designer shirt, but she had notably paled when she saw the dark splattering of bruises that had blossomed along his rib cage. For a second she looked and felt as if she might cry a second time. She might have made a fine nurse. The princess elect had a robust sense of empathy, knew how to talk to people from all walks of life, established a rapport easily with everyone except the most hostile of individuals, was intelligent, and not at all squeamish. With Luke as her patient, however, she couldn't keep up a veil of professional distance and courtesy. She knew the vehicular accident was her fault, that it had caused these injuries, and that she was the proximate cause of harm to someone she secretly held dear.

Carefully she reached out and pressed her cool, damp palm against the mottled skin. Her touch was gentle but she could tell it drew a great deal of pain. Rhiane could not feed any protrusions under the flesh but there was certainly something amiss. Were she to press down with her fingers she could do a more thorough evaluation, but she didn't have the fortitude to torture her fiance like that. She quickly withdrew and let the fabric fall back over his side to conceal the evidence of her poor judgment from view.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again before reaching for the medical kit. Rhiane rooted around for a minute or so before pulling out the two bottles he had discovered earlier. Unfortunately, they presented her with a problem. The caps had safety mechanisms that required that they be both squeezed and turned clockwise to open. Ordinarily this would not be a challenge. Because Rhiane only had one arm, and therefore hand, she was willing to use, however, this gave her a long pause.

Ultimately she was unwilling to ask Luke for help or admit her deficiency. On a normal day her pride was robust enough that she wouldn't want to volunteer information that a container was outside her capabilities to open. Today her shame at indirectly hurting Luke and her refusal to admit to the extent of her arm's impairment held her tongue. What sort of person would she be if the complained to someone struggling to ask for a drug to reduce his suffering that she couldn't open a bottle? Rhiane fumbled with both bottles, trying to open one and then the other, with no success.

With a cry stifled in her throat she rolled her left shoulder forward, displacing her arm into her lap, and wrapped her fingers on that accompanying hand around the bottle. Rhiane bit down on her tongue to force herself not to alert him to the agony this caused. Now that the bottle was stabilized she was able to use her right hand to squeeze and twist the cap as required, popping it off, and jerking her left arm slightly. She curled her toes, suppressing a yelp, before reaching into the opaque plastic phial and recovering a single pill.

"Here," she said as she offered the pill. It was the sedative because, as Luke undoubtedly predicted, she had not forgotten that he hadn't slept. Rhiane had chastised him earlier and tried to convince him to take a nap at the very least given how little he rested during the nights. The sedative provided an opportunity for her to compel him to oblige her. Although he might take issue with her judgment, or how insistent she was, she had the best of intentions. Once he was carted off to the world of dreams she would almost certainly commence with her earlier plan to find the road. She had not given up on either her plan to both punish herself and perform an act of contrition, even as it thundered ominously overhead and the rain outside became a deluge that obscured their ability to see more than a meter beyond the windows.
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