Alfbie

RPer on the lookout for more RPers!

Bump for a dedicated roleplayer and a fantastic writer!

Underneath

Each step was agony. Each step threatened Jeron's consciousness. Each step was like a battle not to lose his strength, and he was not sure how long he could keep up the fight. He wandered for the sake of wandering, knowing that if he stopped, he would fall, and if he fell, he would never rise to his feet again. His ragged breathing reflected the pain that stabbed through his whole body, every inhale expanding the wounds on his torso like a form of torture, every exhale like tearing a knife through his flesh. His wound oozed, in need of care, and Jeron knew this, knew that time would claim his life eventually.

He couldn't remember why he was originally here but knew that it was something of great importance to him. He feared that pondering the matter would sap the last of his power, so he didn't bother. Why would it matter? It wasn't as though he had the strength to do anything about it. Survival was the only thing on his mind now, a goal like reaching a light at the ceiling of a tall, dark room with no ladder to speak of.

Jeron couldn't sense the woman following him, the weak throb of his heart the only thing he could hear, his own blood the only thing he could smell, and everything around him appearing as large shapes. It was a wonder he didn't trip and fall over a root, though his feet caught such protrusions many times, a frantic grip on a nearby tree the only thing keeping him up during those times. He paused to catch his breath at these moments, flailing to keep upright using a tremendous amount of energy he simply did not have.

It was during one of these long, pitiful pauses that her voice managed to pierce through the slowing cadence of his life force like the sharp bleat of a trumpet. Instinctively, Jeron's body snapped to attention, that alone almost a regretful act due to the stabbing pain it elicited. He sucked in a breath, his vision suddenly clear and sharp, and gripped the tree tightly with one hand. Why was she still following him? Did he not already prove that he was not a threat and couldn't kill her if he tried? Why trace his wandering steps for this long? Perhaps she intended to kill him at some quiet place and he needed only to wander into the ideal location. Perhaps she wanted to watch him die so she could be assured of his passing. Whatever the reason, he could not bring himself to show concern or care. At this point, there was little he could do about it. She will watch him fight to live, and that was that.

Jeron did not turn to face the woman, instead tilting his chin towards his shoulder, damp strands of silvery hair falling free around his face. "I wish to live," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper despite the effort it took to speak. Then he continued to move.

Knowing that he was being followed did much to heighten his alertness. His vision didn't fade, and he could hear the woman's footsteps behind him now, always a respectable distance away. He did his best to ignore her, instead sweeping the ground with his gaze for a specific herb. He needed something to clean his wounds and stop the bleeding, something low growing with small white flowers...for the life of him, he could not remember the name...

There. In this strange forest, Jeron spotted something that looked familiar, a most common weed. Of course it would grow here. Gratefully, he dropped to his knees and almost passed out right then and there, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his body swaying. Somehow, he regained his senses, returning to the present, and Jeron began to pick and pull at the plant, a normally quick procedure now a slow, arduous process.

Vanish Into Light

So you're one of those affected by the seasons! I'm just in a better mood when it's sunny!

I'm doing alright! Keeping busy, life stays interesting, but I'm in a good place, so I can't complain :)

SO GLAD you're back! I was beginning to worry! And now I get to reacquaint myself with a certain RP :3

Vanish Into Light

*faints*

YOU'RE BACK!!!! *hugs tightly*

This is awesome! How have you been doing? Hope things are well!

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

YOU POSTED!!

It was good, I enjoyed it!

Just to sum, to make sure I took it all in correctly: This was a post about what Curdle had been doing while in captivity. If I read correctly, his dream state is new to even him, and I suppose he was in the process of almost going *poof!* at one point?

But he wasn't sure what was happening, and asking around didn't help, so he was left to his bewilderment and the interrogation and his mourning. And now he's in another dream state again, except I think this time he's more aware of what's happening?

And he just witnessed a bunch of flashbacks of Fiira's life. You ended the post at Fiira's last moments, yes?

Underneath

Sunlight began to thaw Jeron, but with the ebbing of the chill came the rise of the pain. He could feel that familiar sting of ragged cuts on every part of his body, the sensation pulling him to waking. Being in the shallow water like this didn’t help—feeling the gentle current push around him only seemed to tenderize the cut areas.

Jeron opened his eyes, an ordinary human brown instead of the frightening red of his kind, focusing on the shape that hovered over him. Maura? He wanted to make out her slender frame, her frizzy hair, her kind eyes, and her gentle smile. Instead, his vision focused on that woman from before, the one that laughed at him, the one that didn’t run away.

He could feel his hair slide against his skin in the water and knew that he was exposed. If she wasn’t running away, it meant that she was in the processing of killing him. Jeron wanted to jerk away, to snap his arm out defensively, to scream, to run, but his body was in no condition to do any of those things, and it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. But he wasn’t going to surrender to this strange woman as she finished him off. Thus, with a low groan, he began to sit up, very slowly, pivoting away from the woman as he did so. His wet hair clung to his shoulders, casting rivulets of water to run along his many wounds. He took a moment to catch his breath and prevent the pain from knocking him out, then made the slow, arduous struggle to his feet, his back facing her the entire time. He managed with some effort, his back hunched over, his knees shaking, his face contorted in a grimace of constant pain. He was like a newborn deer attempting his first steps, but he was no child of the forest entering a world in which he belonged. He was, instead, a creature fighting against the call of death, moving forward despite the very real chances that he would not survive another night out here because… because…

He did not know why he continued to fight to live when dying was so much easier. All he knew was that he must, that the act of living was the one thing that no one could control or take away from him regardless of their many efforts.

Shakily, Jeron picked up his pack from the mud beside him and let it dangle from his loose grip. Without so much as acknowledging the woman’s presence, he began to move forward, away from her, each step taking considerable effort and requiring a moment’s pause.

Crimson Moons

FINALLY POSTED!!

I adore each and every one of my RPs, but this is the only one using a modern setting. It was kinda refreshing not having to think too hard about that aspect of the RP.

Sorry this took so long to post; I hope it's worth the wait! Hope you're doing fine :)

Also, first song from me is up on the playlist, yaaaay!

Crimson Moons

Nathaniel Russet normally worked through lunch, relieving Daisy from the front counter of their hotel. This hour gave him a chance to slow down from the hustle and bustle of the busy work day, to capture the sights, to absorb the sounds, to take in the scents, and catch up with his thoughts. There usually wasn't much activity at this time of day; all patrons had checked out by this time, new ones hadn't arrived yet, and the cleaning crew was still hard at work making each room appear pristine and new. He'd typically eat his lunch--made from home--at the front desk, lobby door wide open. From there, he could smell the exhaust of the cars snaking down the distant highway as well as the aging donuts from the pastry place a few blocks down, the perfume of the clerk from the jewelry shop across the street, and the footsteps of whoever trekked the sidewalk by the hotel. He could hear that distant highway too, as well as the conversations of the construction team on break, the whisper of the trees lining the back of the hotel, and the scurry of mice beneath the ground. To him, this was normal, mundane, part of his everyday routine. To any other person, Nate was just a lean, endearingly-scruffy man at the front counter eating a sandwich.

That morning, however, while examining the roof of the hotel he co-owned, he had heard the tractor in the hay field right by this tiny village give way, followed by the pained screams of old man John Frazier, the faint scent of blood punctuating the cry for help. So he had abandoned the roof for the time being, left the hotel to Daisy's devices, and rushed out to help a neighbor in need.

Noon rolled around. Daisy secured the lobby so that she could go to lunch. And it began to rain.

That was when Nate rumbled up in his old pickup truck, a noisy beast from the 60s that had never let him down, parking in the spot off to the side of the building reserved for the staff. He climbed out slowly, exhausted, his mind numb and his senses fried. Mud scuffed his long-sleeved flannel shirt and jeans. Old man John Frazier had passed out on the tractor, he had fallen, his leg... Trying not to think about it too much, Nate passed a calloused hand over his weary face--sharp features lined with stubble. He raked a hand through his light-brown hair as he slammed the door behind him and did not bother rushing or providing cover from the rain as it began to fall more generously. He needed the cleansing, even if it couldn't cleanse his thoughts.

He smelled her before he saw her, even through the rain, the scent of an unfamiliar woman. A visitor? Nothing out of the ordinary--this was a hotel, after all, and a common rest stop for travelers too weary to make the last few hours to the nearest city. Still, he took a quick glance, sky-blue eyes falling upon an attractive young woman sitting in her car.

Nate paid her no other mind after that glance as he fished his keys out his pocket and glanced at his watch: twelve thirty. Daisy was still out for lunch. So he unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shrugged off his flannel shirt, revealing a white tank top underneath; he couldn't man the front desk covered in mud, could he? The front desk, as he stepped around it, obscured his dirty pants as his rain-damp hair moistened his shoulders. He looked around for a spare shirt, seeing only Daisy's things, and sighed. This would have to do until Daisy returned--then he could go home and change.

He stood at the center of the counter and waited, allowing the gentle thrumming of the rain outside to numb his thoughts.

The Lost Princess (Alfie and Aelin)

Gilda paused just long enough to give the girl a scrutinizing look, one eyebrow raised. "I suppose I've heard stranger things in my lifetime," she remarked. "Women disappearing for all hours of the night, coming back disheveled and smelling like some man, claiming that some devil-creature possessed her. You..." Another scrutinizing look, this one more sympathetic. "You've been gone for a very long time."

Gilda looked around, sighed, and grumbled to herself as she began to loosen a long sash bound around her hair. "Where is that bloody doctor?" she grumbled as she began to bind Caitriona's foot with the sash in an attempt to alleviate some of the girl's pain. "I have a feeling he'll be late, and 'tis not fair for you to wait all hours as you are. Come."

With the sash fastened in place, Gilda rose and bent over Caitriona, hooking a shoulder beneath the girls' arm. "Lean on me, love, and I'll help you to your room. I think you just have a sprained ankle. We'll give you a proper bath, put you in proper clothes, and bandage you properly. What do you say to that?"

The Lost Princess (Alfie and Aelin)

Gilda first examined Caitriona's foot, taking it firmly in her hands. She applied gentle pressure, nodding as the girl explained the possible issue. "That seems to be the case," she murmured before looking up, watching the girl as she mentioned what happened to her. Gilda's eyes narrowed when she caught that furtive glance towards the prince, and her hands stilled upon seeing the way she blushed after looking at him.

Gilda stole a glance over her shoulder at Aleksander, who eyed Caitrona's foot with some concern. "It is indecent for a man to oggle such exposed skin," she snapped, her tone sharp.

Aleksander startled and immediately straightened to attention; one would wonder who really ran the castle around here. "I wasn't," he stammered with an exasperated look. "I didn't. She--"

"Never you mind. I'm sure there are other things in this castle that require your attention." Gilda managed a slight smile, genuine even if sparsely given. "Caitriona will be just fine with me and the others, I promise."

Aleksander nodded slowly before casting Caitriona a reluctant look. "I must take my leave," he murmured to her, "but you are in good hands with Gilda. I'll... come for you soon, then we can catch up." He waited for her answer, hoping the lost girl reassured.

"Aye," Gilda added impatiently. "Now go, go! This is no place for a man to be."