The Star's Dreams:
Tales as fleeting as they are memorable.
The light around you dims.
Energy fills the air.
The Earth trembles in excitement—or is it fear?
Everything seems to bleed together, and everything leads to this moment. A line of light bisects the air in front of you; just barely visible. Then comes the world’s sharp intake of breath, which draws the air back behind you, and cool air seeps out from the line. The cool air surrounds you, and in its embrace, you cannot help but feel something… examining you. The line seems to pulse for a moment, and then vanishes.
Rest assured, it was not simply a trick of the light.
Tendrils of starlight dance out from beneath your feet; thin, wispy things like threads of silk. They creep around you, and they draw roots around you until they reach a short distance away from your body, where they sharply turn towards each other and form a solid white circle. When no gaps remain, all light disappears, and you are plunged into the depths of darkness.
You float in what gentle repose the universe can offer you, surrounded by a canopy of stars and nebulae—all perceptible to your eyes through unseen magics. Fables chase each other around the constellations and celestial bodies, laughing, and sometimes crying. Lovers hang high in the sky “above” you, gifting each other with soft kisses and stolen touches while two angry suns observe other matters. When the suns shift their gazes, the lovers part and fade into the stars. As the suns are distracted, they come alive again—and on and on the cycle goes.
Ahead, you see tales of valour buried in blue and green gems—an innumerable plethora of life-bearing planets. They stick out like beacons from the planet’s surface, enticing star-faring storytellers to descend from their lofty perches, so that they may indulge in their riveting escapades. Some pass you now, and you cannot discern if they are man, or beast, or if they are simply a presence with no shape to assure you that they truly exist.
One catches your gaze, and its form shifts to emulate your kind’s. The sweetest smile graces its lips, and then it is gone. You see a faint line, distinct from the rest of the universe, showing the path it took away from you. It has already touched an infinite number of stories, and in the distance bright lights salute you as your doppelganger meets them.
This wonder is not the main attraction, however. It is simply a waiting area, and an ornate hallway crumbles back into existence. Soft baroque tones and the irresistible scent of spices and sweets pad at your ears and nostrils like small fairies trying to lead you away. The distant sound of flowing water is accompanied by hundreds of twinkling chimes—none of them the same tone; all of them beautiful. The hallway is complete, and the universe fades away. When you look back, it as if the hall stretches for eternity in the other direction with nothing to call to you. The only proper direction is forwards.
Your legs seem to develop a mind of their own, and as soon as weight settles back into your bones, you are walking, marveling at the splendor of your surroundings. Both ancient and modern works of art line the walls. Sculptures shape themselves, and painters trapped in paintings stare intensely at you with their palettes in one hand and their brushes in the other. As you pass, it is as if they have a sudden realization, and the paintings capture their moment of clarity. They do not know it, but they have witnessed you and the hallway, and work towards immortalizing the scene on canvas.
The end of the hallway is in sight, and its golden arches break away into a large, spacious room with no discernable ceiling or far wall. In what you deem the “center” of the room is the fountain that you heard from before. The hundreds of chimes prove to number in the thousands; each of them suspended in the air around the fountain. They float lazily around it, and through the cloud of silver, you see a small figure sitting on a platform where the water spills out.
A soft tone reverberates from within the cloud of chimes, and they part so that the occupant within can look at you. She is a young woman with black silk locks and supple peach skin, dressed in a striking gold top that flows down her body, splashed with tinges of violet and white, and a long, flowing, shimmering silver skirt cut, embroidered, and gilded on one side. She sits cross-legged with a curled smile on her face.
“Welcome,” she chimes. Her lilting voice dances around your left ear, and then your right, sending shivers down your spine. “I am always, always delighted to see new faces. I do hope my home is already as impressive to you as I hoped it would be.”
She curls around, and moves to sit on her knees. She bows at you, and the fountain parts beneath her. The scents and sounds you heard from earlier crescendo in a wave of sheer nostalgia and anticipation, and the woman smiles at you once again. She turns again after her bow, and her legs dangle from her platform to obscure the path that appeared.
“My name is Bianca,” she pauses and opens her arms, “…and I cordially invite you into my home.”
The fountain rumbles, and the path sinks into it. Stonework stairs grind against each other as they assume positions down into the depths, where the gentlest gaslight shines at you in the distance.
“Should you choose to honour my invitation, you may proceed,” she states, and she tumbles down from her platform and lands playfully on her feet in front of you. “Of course, there is no requirement that you do so. Should you decline, you will awaken where you were before, as if this was a dream. Cliché, but it is the best course of action.”
Your eyes meet, and her eyes are stunning. You see the universe reflected in them; the same breathtaking canopy from before, over pastel tones of the nebulae. You break out of your stupor, and see that she has extended a delicate hand to you.
"A story waits for you beyond my doors," she says. "It would be a shame to let it go."
“The Star’s Dreams”—alternately, “Les rêves de l'étoile," because I adore the way French sounds for fruity titles (even if machine-translated)—is envisioned to be a briskly-paced, short-term RP centered around the home of a lonely woman—a star by the name “Bianca.” Here, she sends invitations to individuals of all persuasions and walks of life, so that she may have company in a one-night exchange of stories, and the writing of new ones. Initially, her invitation if for six. In the future, this may change.
It is my intent that the RP be broken into six “hours,” during which the visitors may do as they please. An hour will pass once all guests have declared they have completed their actions for that hour, when all the guests have made their actions and determined their upcoming actions for the hour, or three (3) real-world days pass after the most recent submission. The “hours” aren’t straight 60 minutes; just consider them a block of time, each with a post from myself to lead with. Of course, that is subject to change. Should a guest fail to report their actions for an hour, they will be considered too drunk or otherwise preoccupied, and the world will go on. Please do inform me if you are dropping out, or if a post will take longer than anticipated. Once the six hours are up, the night will move into its final act; after which the guests will depart.
Characters may come from anywhere; the invitation comes anytime, anywhere. They may be the greatest good, or the greatest evil—there is no distinction nor limit when it comes to the invited. Everything is permitted, though as per standing rules, mature to explicit details may only be ‘declared’ and not acted out—they must be saved for PMs. Death is a present factor, but worry not—if your character is killed, they will return to their state before they entered. Intrigue is allowed. Combat is allowed. Romance is allowed—even encouraged, for those seeking it.
I will try to keep posting standards high; low-quality posts can disrupt the atmosphere I hope we can create, but things sometimes slip through the cracks. The minimum I set is at least two paragraphs, as per usual, but please aim to have longer, or narrative-rich posts as well. Narrative-rich means not simply including every single bit of detail in an attempt to make up for lack of quality with sheer volume, but instead crafting your work so that the most impact and important information is conveyed. I have recently listened to a book that would have been wonderful, if not for the clumsy application of detail, and I am not looking for anything like that. I’m probably guilty of going over-the-top at times as well, so please, do call me out in OOC if you feel my work is bordering on or has broached becoming superfluous. Learning is important.
Let this be a standing warning—indecency, immaturity, pettiness, and the like are highly frowned upon, and if severe enough, are grounds for immediate ejection.
I am a new RPer, but I am not new to writing, so do forgive me for any missteps I make in regard to GMing. Having had a taste of RPing, I feel a strong urge to lead my own already, and this will be the first test that I put out for myself. I would hope RPers of all levels of veterancy partake, for a balanced and enlightening experience. Even if you’re not interested, advice is always gladly accepted. I have no idea what’s exactly supposed to be listed when enticing people to join, so having some formatting tips would be greatly appreciated (if it’s not already clear from the above OOC, I tend to meander when I don’t have direction)
A CS is upcoming; I just wanted to get this out before I iron out all the details (because I’m fully aware I may be missing some aspect that would be prudent to include.)
