Level_5
Arista
PapaOsoYolanda was left to lay there for what felt like hours. She didn't blame the man for not coming to her aid; it was extremely likely that he could feel pain and no doubt the orderlies would make him feel it. The others in the room, they didn't appear to even know where they were, so she didn't fault them, either.
A sound broke her out of her trance, a kind of buzzing sound. She guessed it was an alarm of some kind. As more orderlies filed into the room, she soon figured out that it was time for all of the patients to go back to their rooms. Two orderlies picked her up bodily and carried her down a long, blindingly white corridor. Sterile was the only word she could think to describe it. She wrinkled her nose at that.
She was soon set down inside a bland room, small bed positioned in the corner, a toilet off to the side and a sink beside it. There was nothing to entertain oneself with, nor were there any kind of personal touches to liven the place up a little. Yolanda immediately hated it.
One thing she noticed, however, was that the door had a small, barred window in it, no glass, and she could see across into the opposite room, if she wanted to. Small mercies. One of the orderlies seized her by the shoulder and brought her attention to him as the other undid her binds.
"You behave. Behave. Understand?"
Yolanda gave him a confused smile, the blood now dried onto her chin. "Ek is nie van plan om.*"
The orderly glanced at his colleague and rolled his eyes before shoving her back further into the room and exiting, closing and locking the door behind them.
Yolanda gave ane exasperated sigh as she wiped the blood from her face and moved over to the sink to wash the remnants from her hand.
[*I do not intend to.]
AllOurPrettySongs
Member
STATUS:
It ain’t easy being a bird parent ~
3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 7 mos ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 594 (0.16 / day)
- VMs: 5
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- AllOurPrettySongs 10 yrs ago
- Latest 10 profile visitors:
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3 yrs ago
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It ain’t easy being a bird parent ~
1
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3 yrs ago
@nooget bird: ‘you … CLIP the CLAWS ??? you sniP SNIP????? oooh jail !!! jail for you for 10000 years !!!!’
2
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3 yrs ago
Tried to write ‘ratbag’ in a post and accidentally wrote ‘rathag’. Please refer to me from this point forward as The Rathag
2
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4 yrs ago
Happy birthday to me! 🥳
9
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4 yrs ago
Forever thankful of the ability to look up words when wanting to write ‘perennial’ in a post and initially writing ‘perineal’ which is,,,,,,,a very different word
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Bio
Ignoring life for RP like:
Welcome!
This is my bio, where you will find some information on me and what I like to roleplay. You will not find any recipes, nefarious schemes, or insecurities, even though I have a plethora of all those things - as well as a combination of some, like my recipe for homemade insecurity pie. Delicious, tangy insecurity pie.
Pies aside, I'm AllOurPrettySongs. That's a long username that holds absolutely no deep meaning to me, but is simply part of the chorus to a Nirvana song I was listening to when I created my account. You can call me Songs, or perhaps Pretty, because that's the easiest way for me to get a compliment. I don't like Piña Colada, or getting caught in the rain. As far as I can tell, I don't have half a brain. But then if I did, I probably wouldn't know. What I do like is music and movies; if you talk to me about old rock/alternative music, I will be your best friend forever, whether you want that or not. The same goes for movies. If you talk to me about eighties horror, stupid horror we can laugh about (sometimes the lines blur), psychological thrillers, or comedies (and most everything else that I can't be bothered to list), I will never leave your side.
So, roleplay. Why did I take so long to get to the main reason we're all here? Because I don't get to talk about myself a lot. It's my time to shine, dammit. Anyway, roleplay. What do I like? What don't I like? Well:
+ Slice of Life is my thing, and I RP exclusively MxM pairings. Does that mean I can't play other gender and sexuality side-characters? No. No, no. I can do that. No worries. It's just that my main will always be a homosexual male. Does Slice of Life mean that I want fluff all the time? That's another no, because it's unrealistic. There is sadness and conflict in life, as well as other unpleasant emotions and situations. But I don't want something that is really dreary and depressing, because I have my actual life for that. A different way of putting it would be that I enjoy realism, but a reality that could be found in a romantic movie. There's drama, there's conflict, but there's a big dose of sweetness, too. That is not to say I don’t enjoy a cliché or two you’d find in the movies.
What don't I like? How many more question marks can I get in this bio? Well:
+ Smutty RPs, or any RPs that involve smut. No touchy. Our characters can be in love and hold hands and and whatever it is couples do (shop for lawn gnomes together?), but anything other than that is a no-no.
+ Sci-fi. Don't like it, don't really understand it, can't get into it. I will not be partaking.
+ Medieval. Can't get into it and I'm not good at writing it.
+ Historical. Which is similar to Medieval, I suppose. Same reasons as to why I don't do it. It can be a bit of a grey area, however, as it depends on what you class as historical. I love modern settings, and I classify back to the twenties onwards as modern, but I guess it could be classified as historical? Kinda? Probably not really.
+ Fantasy. Again, another grey area. I'm fine with elements of fantasy, but just straight up fantasy is not for me. Same goes for horror. You want to set it in a terrifying place full of terrifying nightmares? Awesome, that sounds fun. But I want romance in there. How? I don't know. We can put our imagination craniums together and come up with something!
+ Along similar lines: Supernatural. Supernatural elements are fine (ghosts, vampires, werewolves, etc.), but there has to be that romance. Gotta get that romance, people. Just inject it directly into my vein.
What are my rules? Well:
+ As I said up above, I don't do smut. Sorry, my friends.
+ I only RP with people who are eighteen and over, as I fall into that bracket.
+ I write a minimum of four paragraphs. I can go many more if I am inspired and also not on my mobile. I'm sorry if that number fluctuates, but as I said, I'm sometimes on mobile and it’s uncomfortable to write so much. Plus, replies tend to look bigger than they actually are on mobile, so I might think that I've written more than I actually have if I don't look at the character count.
+ Please be able to write just as much as me! If you'd like to write more, then that's great. I would love to read your clever words.
+ Spelling and grammar. Everyone makes mistakes - I make them, you make them (probably?), we all make them. I'd just like it if you could keep the mistakes to a minimum, and I'll do just the same for you!
+ If you don't like the RP, please tell me. We can try and fix it! If you still don't like it, there's no hard feelings. I really hope that you find a plot you enjoy a lot more! Along the same lines, if you don't like how I write, that's okay. Sometimes styles don't mesh well. I'll wish you luck in finding someone who compliments your own writing better!
+ I'm frequently online but may not be able to reply every time I am. Aside from real life commitments, I'm not always in the mood to write, or may be without my muse for a while. I try to keep up the posting as much as I can, though! And I will tell you when I know that I'm going to be away for a long period.
+ OOC chat is fun, and I like it. If you don't really want to talk to me, that's okay, but I might be a bit sad about that. </3
Really though, I'd love it if we could be friends.
I think that's about it! Likely not, this bio will never be left as is. I am never satisfied.
But if you like what you see here now, why not send me a message and we could maybe roleplay? Or even just have a chat!
Most Recent Posts
As the orderlies continued to rant and rave, one peered down at her with a curious frown. He glanced at his colleague and nudged him to get his attention.
"Hey. Can she even understand us?"
His colleague shrugged and eventually stopped his rant to look down at Yolanda. He poked her with the toe of his boot.
"Can you understand English?"
Yolanda almost laughed, though she managed to instead school her expression into one of vague confusion. "Naturrlik kan ek jou moroon?*" She phrased the insult as a question. The orderlies all fell silent at that, one giving a loud sigh.
"The crazy bitch doesn't even speak English. Why does no one check these things out?" One demanded, glaring at the others. "How about you all go and actually do your jobs and get her room ready?"
The other orderlies shuffled off as the one who gave the order looked down at her briefly before moving over to the otherside of the room, losing interest when he thought that she couldn't understand his insults.
Yolanda tilted her head to the side and looked at the man with the pretty blue eyes, who she knew had been watching the display. She gave him a slight smile before mouthing, 'hello'.
[*Of course I can, moron.]
Yolanda tilted her head slightly as the man acknowledged her. So, he was at least present. She wondered if he might be one of those people she had seen in documentaries; ones that appeared normal but had epsiodes of hysteria. She gave an awkward shrug before her expression turned bitter as the orderlies continued to chat.
She suddenly lashed out with one booted heel, catching one orderly in the shin. His leg buckled backwards and he let go of her in surprise; she took the opportunity to spin around on the one who still gripped her and smacked him across the face.
The other orderlies came around from behind the desk, two grabbing her while the one she kicked recovered. He looked at her, clearly enraged, and backhanded her across the face. Yolanda's head jerked to the side from the force and she tasted blood. She supposed that she had perhaps bitten her tongue or cheek.
She felt her hands being bound as well as her ankles with what felt like zip ties. Blood dripped from her mouth, staining her pale skin. She was lifted and brought over to a small couch near the corner of the room as the orderlies snarled out insults and threats.
Yolanda silently smiled up at them, two rivulets of blood trickling down her chin.
Yolanda had been lost in thought for the entire trip to the asylum. Her hands remained clasped together, feeling as if they were locked in place. She only barely registered that the van had come to a stop and the engine had cut off when the doors were thrown open and she was pulled from the van, the orderlies once again yanking her arms behind her as they guided her forward.
Dressed in a simple white singlet, dark jeans and boots, Yolanda appeared normal enough - if her appearance could be deemed normal. Her hair was a bleached blonde, almost white, that matched her pale skin. Her dark eyes appeared almost black in contrast, giving her an extremely eerie appearance. The main thing that drew the eye, however, was the large tattoo that peeked out from under her singlet. A centerpiece of a bovine-esque Devil with spiraling horns sat at the base of her neck, overseeing a battle between an angel and a demon as shadowy hands reached up towards them, flames licking at the sides.
The orderlies led her into what appeared to be some kind of recreational room. There were a few patients, most keeping to themselves. The orderly to her right gestured excitedly at her as he grinned at another stationed at what looked like the medication bay. She frowned, squirming in his now loosened grip, but the other simply held her tighter.
Yolanda took the opportunity to study the other patients present. They were as she had expected, mostly just shells of human beings. One, however, seemed much more alert than the others. A man with blue eyes. She studied him silently as the orderlies chattered, ignoring their duties.
Yolanda Grieg didn't know how it had come to this. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in time that had lead to her holding a small letter opener to the throat of an Eldrich Asylum orderly as her parents both attempted to calm her down, to coax the formerly harmless blade from her hand. Her mother was yelling through tears, alternating between pleas in her native tongue and in English. Her father, hands held up in a gesture of peace, looked at her with a expression of barely contained stoicism; his eyes gave him away. He was a broken man within, confused and frightened, though whether it was fear of or for his daughter, that was unclear.
Yolanda thought perhaps, perhaps it has been when she had fallen off of the slide in front of her classmates and had landed with an audible cracking sound coming from her right arm. Perhaps that had been the start of it all. Maybe, when she had simply stood with her arm at an impossible angle, bruise already forming with a nonchalant expression, that had been the beginning.
Whatever it had been, this was where she stood now. A letter opener in hand while her other hand laid flat against the sweating brow of the nervous orderly. This is where her life was right now. She looked down at the man for a brief moment, before returning her gaze to her parents. Crying mother and broken father.
Her hand fell from the man's forehead and the blade left her hand, clattering on the hardwood floor. Too loud a sound than it had any right to be. Yolanda's arms were immediately yanked behind her back by the second orderly who had been standing by, while the first gripped her around the waist. The angle of her arms would have been painful, had she been anyone else.
And just as she had stood silently before frightened classmates with a broken arm, Yolanda Grieg silently walked backwards as she was guided to by the clearly angered orderlies. Her parents followed as she was removed from her home and guided to the back of a van, soon finding herself in a muffled kind of silence with cold walls surrounding.
An engine started - it felt distant - and she sat down on a small bench that had been attached to one of the walls. She clasped her hands in front of her and looked down, appearing very similar to someone in prayer.
She wasn't praying.
Yay roleplaying!
Posted! If anyone would like to room with Yolanda, just let me know. :3
Yolanda Grieg stared up at the archway that led into the college that she would call home for the next few years. It was vaguely imposing, though she reasoned it was simply the thought of the place rather than the actual college itself.
Steeling herself with a slow breath and tightening her grip on the bags clasped in her hands, Yolanda passed under the archway and onto the college grounds. It was quite a nice place, really; much less intimidating once you were within and looking around at the green fields and seemingly historic buildings.
She glanced around for a few moments longer, committing the place to memory, before moving off to find her dorm. Yolanda had a vague idea where the dorms would be, having been told by a rather fast talking and excitable type. She grimaced slightly as she tried to remember what the person had said among their ramblings.
Walking towards a building that seemed to have a steady stream of students passing through, she assumed that to be where the dorms were housed. Yolanda walked inside and up the stairs to her right, her brow furrowing as she squeezed past a group of loud girls. What had that idiot said? Room number fove. That sounded right, but she still held her doubts.
Yolanda eventually found herself outside of dorm five. She somewhat tentatively opened the door and found it to be empty. A good sign, she supposed. She walked in and set her bags down, pulling at one strap of the simple white singlet she wore before joining her bags on the bed. This would be a fine room.
Abaddon opened his eyes and looked up at the familiar and now comforting face of Camael. His guardian angel. His smile grew as his energy seemed to return to him somewhat and he leaned up, suddenly seizing her lips with his, his hands moving up to rest lightly on her neck.
Yolanda turned and began to pace idly, swinging her arms slightly and spinning around on her heel to walk the other way. She was beginning to get antsy, wondering if the police had even been notified of the situation yet.
She paced over to Silas, standing fairly close; a little closer than would be socially acceptable if they were simply talking.
"Right. I'm sure people have said that," Yolanda snorted derisively. She pursed her lips for a moment before continuing. "You think you're a pretty successful ladies man, huh."
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