*True. And also, bout to intro him here if that's ok. And yeh, that's a good place to end*
"Ana...? You should be in bed sweetheart..."
*Yeah that's totally okay with me dude. Gives me a chance to use mine more.*
She turns to them, shaking her head "I got some rest, you keep resting." She walks over to them, putting their breakfast on the nightstand, "Okay?"
*Alright.*
"Kay..." he mumbles, sitting up to eat some of the food.
Walking down the street of a decimated town is a man with long black robes, seemingly stitched together. He is well-built and has long, flowing white hair. He has stitches across his nose and cheek. Blood splatter is all over his clothes. He hums giddily to himself
She helps them up, giving them a kiss on the forehead, smiling at them. She sits down next to them, beginning to rebraid her hair.
Someone bumps into them going for a walk. He wears robes of his own, though they are a stark white gi rather than black robes. There are four holes in the gi, for the man's four arms, each with golden tattoos along them to his shoulders. His eyes are red with black pupils of an X and O. His hair short and black, two hands in his pockets, one holding a flaming mop that rests on his shoulder, the last simply resting lazily at his side.
As he eats he watches her, a small smile on his face.
The man tilts his head, watching them. The man can see the gore the patchworked man has left behind.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*Here are characters because I don't want to pick. (I'm sorry to all of those that are effected by this tragedy)*
Inspector Thorne in in Lord's Yard, specifically in his office. He is looking over a case file, jotting down notes in his notebook. He closes it, sets the files aside, and stands up. He walks downstairs and outside, giving a quick glance around before making his way down the front steps to the police station, heading over to the market.
Samaritan is in his kitchen, stress cooking. He has been in here since last night when he asked Riotan to marry him and Rio said yes. He doesn't know how to feel about it, he is happy on one hand but on the other he is nervous. He has somehow made a tiramisu in less than an hour, now working on the coffee dusting.
Azeral is sharpening his blades, smoking what appears to be a pipe he fashioned crudely from bone. He sits now on his bone throne, the one he thought about making yesterday.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
*Here are characters because I don't want to pick. (I'm sorry to all of those that are effected by this tragedy)*
Inspector Thorne in in Lord's Yard, specifically in his office. He is looking over a case file, jotting down notes in his notebook. He closes it, sets the files aside, and stands up. He walks downstairs and outside, giving a quick glance around before making his way down the front steps to the police station, heading over to the market.
Samaritan is in his kitchen, stress cooking. He has been in here since last night when he asked Riotan to marry him and Rio said yes. He doesn't know how to feel about it, he is happy on one hand but on the other he is nervous. He has somehow made a tiramisu in less than an hour, now working on the coffee dusting.
Azeral is sharpening his blades, smoking what appears to be a pipe he fashioned crudely from bone. He sits now on his bone throne, the one he thought about making yesterday.
Gore covers the market. Walking down the street is a man with long black robes, seemingly stitched together. He is well-built and has long, flowing white hair. He has stitches across his nose and cheek. Blood splatter is all over his clothes. He hums giddily to himself
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*Gooooooooood morning, Lord's Rest Inn! How art thou doing today, my dear friends?*
*I am about to go volunteer, but I'm working on a character that's a robot 1970s cooking show host based on Paula Deen and Graham Kerr who has been trapped in a carnival demiplane all their life. The actual ringmaster/owner of the demiplane, Heckna, has developed a mild dislike for their showy antics, obsession with TVs, and most notably, the fact that they seem to have just appeared one day without warning or explanation, not fitting in or standing out.*
*At least, that's my current concept. A stranger stranger in a strange land, made of strange materials and wearing strange clothes.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Gooooooooood morning, Lord's Rest Inn! How art thou doing today, my dear friends?*
*Yvonne, how I have missed you over this weekend. I am doing well, and how art thou?*
*I am doing well as well! Good to hear you're doing good. :D*
*Wonderful to hear the same for you as well. Would you like to rp?*
*I would love to! Any particular character(s) you'd like?*
*I do not, and for that I am sorry, I simply enjoy all of your characters.*
*No need to be sorry, it's all perfectly fine. Let me see... ah, here you go! Take your pick!*
Omori is sitting in a tree, quietly making a sketch of something she sees. The noticeable scratch-marks up the tree's side indicate it took a while for her to climb to her current perch.
KK is at the Rippling Court proper, looking out at the ocean from one of its opulent carved walkways, watching the sun rise.
Mavis is locking up the mausoleum, her shift over, before beginning to walk back to Lord's Point.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
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He gives them the tightest hug he possibly could, crying just a little bit, "My brother in law almost died to bring me back."
"It makes a potent poison, as well as a healing salve if used correctly."
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
*Yvonne, how I have missed you over this weekend. I am doing well, and how art thou?*
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
As he eats he watches her, a small smile on his face.
The man tilts his head, watching them. The man can see the gore the patchworked man has left behind.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*good morning to you too madam yvonne!*
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
She takes his hand, leaning in and giving him a kiss, closing her eyes.
He walks over to the gore, and with a snap of his fingers, it begins to burn. He watches it burn with tired eyes, muttering something.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
*I am doing well as well! Good to hear you're doing good. :D*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Wonderful to hear the same for you as well. Would you like to rp?*
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
He closes his eyes, gently cupping her face.
"Sorcerer. Just as I thought." the man says giddily.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*I would love to! Any particular character(s) you'd like?*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
She eventually does pull back "Every minute of the adventure I was thinking about you."
He looks to them out of the corner of his eyes, his voice tired "Not an infernal...hmm..."
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
*How are you faring this fine 24-hour interval?*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Here are characters because I don't want to pick. (I'm sorry to all of those that are effected by this tragedy)*
Inspector Thorne in in Lord's Yard, specifically in his office. He is looking over a case file, jotting down notes in his notebook. He closes it, sets the files aside, and stands up. He walks downstairs and outside, giving a quick glance around before making his way down the front steps to the police station, heading over to the market.
Samaritan is in his kitchen, stress cooking. He has been in here since last night when he asked Riotan to marry him and Rio said yes. He doesn't know how to feel about it, he is happy on one hand but on the other he is nervous. He has somehow made a tiramisu in less than an hour, now working on the coffee dusting.
Azeral is sharpening his blades, smoking what appears to be a pipe he fashioned crudely from bone. He sits now on his bone throne, the one he thought about making yesterday.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
*I do not, and for that I am sorry, I simply enjoy all of your characters.*
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
"I missed you so much..." he whispers, eyes still closed.
"Maybe a good challenge..." he whispers
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Gore covers the market. Walking down the street is a man with long black robes, seemingly stitched together. He is well-built and has long, flowing white hair. He has stitches across his nose and cheek. Blood splatter is all over his clothes. He hums giddily to himself
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*I am okay. Agony and despair rn cause i just rewatches season 2 of jujitsu kaisen*
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*I am about to go volunteer, but I'm working on a character that's a robot 1970s cooking show host based on Paula Deen and Graham Kerr who has been trapped in a carnival demiplane all their life. The actual ringmaster/owner of the demiplane, Heckna, has developed a mild dislike for their showy antics, obsession with TVs, and most notably, the fact that they seem to have just appeared one day without warning or explanation, not fitting in or standing out.*
*At least, that's my current concept. A stranger stranger in a strange land, made of strange materials and wearing strange clothes.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"I'm back now, my love. I am sorry I took so long." She holds onto them.
He turns back to the gore, sighing "Latom." He stands back up, taking a deep breath.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
His forehead rests against hers as he sighs slightly.
He takes up a fighting stance, one hand morphing into a blade. Madness laces his eyes
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*No need to be sorry, it's all perfectly fine. Let me see... ah, here you go! Take your pick!*
Omori is sitting in a tree, quietly making a sketch of something she sees. The noticeable scratch-marks up the tree's side indicate it took a while for her to climb to her current perch.
KK is at the Rippling Court proper, looking out at the ocean from one of its opulent carved walkways, watching the sun rise.
Mavis is locking up the mausoleum, her shift over, before beginning to walk back to Lord's Point.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)