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Airalin Member
Cunning, cold, and cuddly
- Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 679 (0.17 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- Airalin 11 yrs ago
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User has no status, yet
Bio
I'm just some crazy reclusive girl. If you really want to know more about me, just ask. ^.~
Most Recent Posts
Hi! I'm looking for someone to do a casual Death Note RP with. The following are facts about the RP and qualities I would prefer my RP partner to have:
-Please be familiar with the Death Note series.
-Please be able to post at least twice a week. Since this is only a casual RP, only a couple of paragraphs are required for each post. If you're unable to post for a while, please let me know.
-I'm looking for someone who is willing to RP with me for a while, so please be willing to stick with the RP for a while, and if you would rather stop, at least let me know.
-I currently intend for this RP to be PG-13, so any romance that goes past a certain point would "fade to black".
-That said, no romance is required at all. My character will be female; yours can be whatever gender you want.
-Both of us will have a "main character", but should be able to also play other characters now and then to advance the story. Your main character can be either a Death Note user or a L-style detective; mine will be the other. I'm happy to play either role.
-To keep the RP interesting, our main characters should meet each other early on.
-Please be able to post without giving your characters "meta-knowledge". In other words, your character shouldn't know my character's plans just because you read my post.
If you're interested and I haven't scared you away yet, please send me a PM. Thanks for reading!
-Please be familiar with the Death Note series.
-Please be able to post at least twice a week. Since this is only a casual RP, only a couple of paragraphs are required for each post. If you're unable to post for a while, please let me know.
-I'm looking for someone who is willing to RP with me for a while, so please be willing to stick with the RP for a while, and if you would rather stop, at least let me know.
-I currently intend for this RP to be PG-13, so any romance that goes past a certain point would "fade to black".
-That said, no romance is required at all. My character will be female; yours can be whatever gender you want.
-Both of us will have a "main character", but should be able to also play other characters now and then to advance the story. Your main character can be either a Death Note user or a L-style detective; mine will be the other. I'm happy to play either role.
-To keep the RP interesting, our main characters should meet each other early on.
-Please be able to post without giving your characters "meta-knowledge". In other words, your character shouldn't know my character's plans just because you read my post.
If you're interested and I haven't scared you away yet, please send me a PM. Thanks for reading!
I've been waiting for the next antagonist post that Multimind said was coming.
Colette nearly tumbled backward as one of her companions leapt over the table in an obvious bid to keep her out of battle. Once she realized she was just being protected - and that two of the others were handily dispatching the clickers - she had to fight back the urge to smile. She lowered her knife and slightly bowed her head to signal her compliance with the older woman's orders.
Stay back and let the others do the fighting? Fine by me.
Of course, she didn't voice that self-satisfied thought, but instead took a small step backwards and looked away as if embarrassed. In reality, she was delighted. Her group was comprised of people who could fight, including a woman who, despite looking stern, perhaps had some sort of protective streak. These people were perfect - if her last group was an indicator, they would eat her act of naivety right up and let her play a less risky role.
Once the clickers were dead, she mumbled, "Sorry," then shuffled back to her backpack and slid the knife inside. Once settled in the beanbag chair again, she resumed her sewing. She bit her lip as she worked. Worry, she figured, was appropriate in situations like this, so just this once, it was fine to let a hint of her true feelings show.
Stay back and let the others do the fighting? Fine by me.
Of course, she didn't voice that self-satisfied thought, but instead took a small step backwards and looked away as if embarrassed. In reality, she was delighted. Her group was comprised of people who could fight, including a woman who, despite looking stern, perhaps had some sort of protective streak. These people were perfect - if her last group was an indicator, they would eat her act of naivety right up and let her play a less risky role.
Once the clickers were dead, she mumbled, "Sorry," then shuffled back to her backpack and slid the knife inside. Once settled in the beanbag chair again, she resumed her sewing. She bit her lip as she worked. Worry, she figured, was appropriate in situations like this, so just this once, it was fine to let a hint of her true feelings show.
Now I'm trying to determine whether I should post or wait for more other people to have a turn first. xD
Colette's eyes barely flickered from her work when she saw a man appear at the door and clear this throat. By the time the others confronted him, Colette had noticed his only visible weapon was a knife. She put down her needlework and blinked, wide-eyed. There was no reason for her to be involved. Several of the other women had guns, and were brandishing them accordingly. Colette remained frozen. One way or another, they would get rid of him, and she wouldn't lift a finger, nor would she be expected to. Everything was well in hand.
That was what she thought before she heard the screeching and clicking.
Colette didn't need to be told what the source of those awful noises was. In her brief time on her own, she had seen more of them than she could bear. And they were not threats she could be complacent about. Not without devaluing herself in the eyes of those around her.
She hastily stuffed the half-knitted socks into her backpack and extracted a knife held to the inside by a strap. It wasn't particularly sharp - she used it to cook, not to kill. Those who paid close enough attention would realize she didn't have a proper weapon. At least, she hoped they would.
She didn't have to fake her trembling. Never before had she been in a direct confrontation with these creatures, and she had no intention of changing that. She looked around, furrowing her eyebrows in mock confusion, as the sounds grew louder. The man - as well as several of her companions - were already reacting to the approaching threat. Colette could let them handle it for her - couldn't she? She was small for her age, and they probably thought of her as a kid. It was only natural for her to be inexperienced in combat. Despite her trembling, she took a small step forward. The most important thing was not to appear to be a coward. If the others thought she was willing to learn, they would probably be less harsh on her for her initial failure.
Of course, if the others failed, all she could hope for was to run. She bit her lip. No way would that happen. She had been through too much to die so suddenly.
Why did she always have to be so unlucky?
That was what she thought before she heard the screeching and clicking.
Colette didn't need to be told what the source of those awful noises was. In her brief time on her own, she had seen more of them than she could bear. And they were not threats she could be complacent about. Not without devaluing herself in the eyes of those around her.
She hastily stuffed the half-knitted socks into her backpack and extracted a knife held to the inside by a strap. It wasn't particularly sharp - she used it to cook, not to kill. Those who paid close enough attention would realize she didn't have a proper weapon. At least, she hoped they would.
She didn't have to fake her trembling. Never before had she been in a direct confrontation with these creatures, and she had no intention of changing that. She looked around, furrowing her eyebrows in mock confusion, as the sounds grew louder. The man - as well as several of her companions - were already reacting to the approaching threat. Colette could let them handle it for her - couldn't she? She was small for her age, and they probably thought of her as a kid. It was only natural for her to be inexperienced in combat. Despite her trembling, she took a small step forward. The most important thing was not to appear to be a coward. If the others thought she was willing to learn, they would probably be less harsh on her for her initial failure.
Of course, if the others failed, all she could hope for was to run. She bit her lip. No way would that happen. She had been through too much to die so suddenly.
Why did she always have to be so unlucky?
The cold nipped at her skin even through her sweatshirt. Threadbare furniture was strewn all about. Exactly what she was used to. The second Colette stepped into the oddly-empty space, she knew she was at home.
That word had lost all meaning a long time ago.
She stepped toward the flickering lights to draw on what little warmth they offered. One by one, her companions - the first strangers she had encountered - claimed the few cots in the space. There were not enough of them for everyone. Colette glanced at the rickety hammocks that would serve as the dregs for those who didn't get a proper bed. Inwardly, she sighed. It would take some work to ensure they didn't dump her onto the cold floor. But, as always, she would manage.
"I'll leave the cots to you guys," she said.
She strolled over to a beanbag chair and sat tentatively on it. Her light backpack rested on her patched jeans, and her long, dark hair draped over her shoulders. As far as she could tell, she was the youngest member of the group. No matter how much she wanted one of those cots, one way or another, someone else would take them from her. Better not to get on anyone's bad side by putting up a fight.
She extracted her sewing kit and quickly got to work on a pair of socks she had been making for herself. In these kinds of situations, it was best to busy yourself quickly. The people who didn't would be put to work by someone else soon enough, and they might not like the tasks they were given. So Colette dexterously continued her project, working mostly reflexively. The bulk of her attention was reserved for watching the others. There was nothing more important than understanding the people around you.
Despite tension that made her want to grind her teeth, she smiled and said. "Well, it's roomy!" A little optimism would nudge her toward most people's good books, though too much could prove irritating quickly. "Kind of chilly, though. If any of you get cold, just give me your measurements and I'll see what I can do." In the short term, her personal warmth wasn't terribly important. She could survive a few days in the cold, and then she could make something comfier for herself. Her immediate concern was to establish a safe long-term setting - and that meant securing her social position, not her physical one.
That word had lost all meaning a long time ago.
She stepped toward the flickering lights to draw on what little warmth they offered. One by one, her companions - the first strangers she had encountered - claimed the few cots in the space. There were not enough of them for everyone. Colette glanced at the rickety hammocks that would serve as the dregs for those who didn't get a proper bed. Inwardly, she sighed. It would take some work to ensure they didn't dump her onto the cold floor. But, as always, she would manage.
"I'll leave the cots to you guys," she said.
She strolled over to a beanbag chair and sat tentatively on it. Her light backpack rested on her patched jeans, and her long, dark hair draped over her shoulders. As far as she could tell, she was the youngest member of the group. No matter how much she wanted one of those cots, one way or another, someone else would take them from her. Better not to get on anyone's bad side by putting up a fight.
She extracted her sewing kit and quickly got to work on a pair of socks she had been making for herself. In these kinds of situations, it was best to busy yourself quickly. The people who didn't would be put to work by someone else soon enough, and they might not like the tasks they were given. So Colette dexterously continued her project, working mostly reflexively. The bulk of her attention was reserved for watching the others. There was nothing more important than understanding the people around you.
Despite tension that made her want to grind her teeth, she smiled and said. "Well, it's roomy!" A little optimism would nudge her toward most people's good books, though too much could prove irritating quickly. "Kind of chilly, though. If any of you get cold, just give me your measurements and I'll see what I can do." In the short term, her personal warmth wasn't terribly important. She could survive a few days in the cold, and then she could make something comfier for herself. Her immediate concern was to establish a safe long-term setting - and that meant securing her social position, not her physical one.
I'm a bit busy right now, but plan on posting later tonight. Hopefully I don't miss anything big!
What an intriguing batch of characters. As antagonist, I wonder just how much the hell I will put them through will change them. If they survive at all.
I can't wait...
I bet silly little Colette is easier to mess with than she may seem from her CS. xD
Appearance: 
Name: Colette Mistly
Age: 14
Personality: Colette has spent her life thus far learning one simple fact: Dishonesty is the strongest shield.
Biography: Colette only has a few memories from before the world was reduced to ruins. A trip to a beautiful lake with parents who argued for their entire stay. Being given a Barbie doll that would be her only companion for many long nights. Those times were, and then they were not. Just like everything else.
Her mother was the first to go in the aftermath. Colette couldn't remember the details. For a few weeks, she would disappear every other day. One day, she didn't come back. Her father never mentioned her again.
For a short while, father and daughter existed alone, in darkness, but not hunger. Colette never thought to ask her father where he got his food from. She would complain that it was not good, that she missed her mother, but she was told that, going forward, they would only have poorly cooked canned food to eat. In truth, even that had not lasted.
Once it was gone, they had left their cellar, hand-in-hand, and walked. They walked through ruined buildings and slept in scary caves. And there were other people. At first, they drifted path the strangers, but before long, her father explained that, in order to survive, they would have to find others to settle down with. By then, Colette had given up on arguing. When she was afraid, she would cling to her father's hand, and he would ruffle her hair. The world kept moving.
Eventually, Colette found herself in a network of tunnels, living with angry people she didn't know. Few of their faces ever became more than blurs, but there was an old lady named Pam who would smile at her, call her a kitten, and tell her stories of other places. Those stories faded as quickly as the other's faces. She recalled them only as kind sounds no truer than the lake she could barely remember.
Her father left her with Pam a lot. He insisted that she never accompany him or any of the others to the surface. Instead, Pam taught her how to do useful little things. Patch a hole in a sweater, build a fire, read the few books they had in their little hovel. She told Colette to always smile, to do small things for people, and slowly, the others around her would smile back. That was when she began to understand.
In time, her father vanished, and Pam died, leaving a ten year old Colette with the other members of her group. Like her father, they never asked her to go to the surface. She would cook for them, make them clothing, even teach them how to do small things for themselves. But only small things. That was the key.
One by one, all the others also stopped returning, and one day, Colette was alone. That was when she finally left. Saw those awful things. Learned that the darkness was safest.
As soon as she could, she found another group. They, too, would disappear. But not her. Never her.
Relationships: None yet
What you originally brought:
1. Her sewing kit
2. A knife
3. The journal of one man she used to live with
Skills/Abilities:
1. Sewing: Colettte can mend, and with sufficient materials, make, serviceable clothing.
2. Intellect: Colette is extremely good at recognizing patterns and picking up new skills.
3. Cooking: Colette can make food good enough that people actually want to eat it.
4. Social intuition: Colette is very perceptive of visual and verbal cues hinting at the emotions of others.
5. Faking: Over the years, Colette has realized that her own emotions were the enemy and has learned to hide them from others and project fake ones instead.
Weaknesses:
1. Inauthenticity: Those who get too close to Colette are likely to sense the disparity between the ways she speaks and acts and how she actually views things. Despite her skill at mimicking the surface-level emotions of others, she lacks their passion.
2. Physical weakness: Colette can't run fast, nor far, nor can she hold her own in a fight. She is thin and somewhat malnourished. She relies almost entirely on others for protection.
3. Paranoia: Colette feels she is, at all times, putting on a show, and as a result, tends to jump to conclusions when others behave strangely around her.
Name: Colette Mistly
Age: 14
Personality: Colette has spent her life thus far learning one simple fact: Dishonesty is the strongest shield.
Biography: Colette only has a few memories from before the world was reduced to ruins. A trip to a beautiful lake with parents who argued for their entire stay. Being given a Barbie doll that would be her only companion for many long nights. Those times were, and then they were not. Just like everything else.
Her mother was the first to go in the aftermath. Colette couldn't remember the details. For a few weeks, she would disappear every other day. One day, she didn't come back. Her father never mentioned her again.
For a short while, father and daughter existed alone, in darkness, but not hunger. Colette never thought to ask her father where he got his food from. She would complain that it was not good, that she missed her mother, but she was told that, going forward, they would only have poorly cooked canned food to eat. In truth, even that had not lasted.
Once it was gone, they had left their cellar, hand-in-hand, and walked. They walked through ruined buildings and slept in scary caves. And there were other people. At first, they drifted path the strangers, but before long, her father explained that, in order to survive, they would have to find others to settle down with. By then, Colette had given up on arguing. When she was afraid, she would cling to her father's hand, and he would ruffle her hair. The world kept moving.
Eventually, Colette found herself in a network of tunnels, living with angry people she didn't know. Few of their faces ever became more than blurs, but there was an old lady named Pam who would smile at her, call her a kitten, and tell her stories of other places. Those stories faded as quickly as the other's faces. She recalled them only as kind sounds no truer than the lake she could barely remember.
Her father left her with Pam a lot. He insisted that she never accompany him or any of the others to the surface. Instead, Pam taught her how to do useful little things. Patch a hole in a sweater, build a fire, read the few books they had in their little hovel. She told Colette to always smile, to do small things for people, and slowly, the others around her would smile back. That was when she began to understand.
In time, her father vanished, and Pam died, leaving a ten year old Colette with the other members of her group. Like her father, they never asked her to go to the surface. She would cook for them, make them clothing, even teach them how to do small things for themselves. But only small things. That was the key.
One by one, all the others also stopped returning, and one day, Colette was alone. That was when she finally left. Saw those awful things. Learned that the darkness was safest.
As soon as she could, she found another group. They, too, would disappear. But not her. Never her.
Relationships: None yet
What you originally brought:
1. Her sewing kit
2. A knife
3. The journal of one man she used to live with
Skills/Abilities:
1. Sewing: Colettte can mend, and with sufficient materials, make, serviceable clothing.
2. Intellect: Colette is extremely good at recognizing patterns and picking up new skills.
3. Cooking: Colette can make food good enough that people actually want to eat it.
4. Social intuition: Colette is very perceptive of visual and verbal cues hinting at the emotions of others.
5. Faking: Over the years, Colette has realized that her own emotions were the enemy and has learned to hide them from others and project fake ones instead.
Weaknesses:
1. Inauthenticity: Those who get too close to Colette are likely to sense the disparity between the ways she speaks and acts and how she actually views things. Despite her skill at mimicking the surface-level emotions of others, she lacks their passion.
2. Physical weakness: Colette can't run fast, nor far, nor can she hold her own in a fight. She is thin and somewhat malnourished. She relies almost entirely on others for protection.
3. Paranoia: Colette feels she is, at all times, putting on a show, and as a result, tends to jump to conclusions when others behave strangely around her.
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