Before I publish the post: what were your thoughts on the wedding? I thought it might be interested to have it set in the Glen, a place where people or the kingdom would go to try to converse with the fae on peaceful terms in distant memory. It would be outside to accommodate for the many spectators, and so disaster could strike most spectacularly. ;)
Beliael
Member
Mostly Void
Partially Stars
STATUS:
Finished a grant propsal and got my research for the next semester green lighted, so I should be much more active now.
7 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
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- Beliael 7 yrs ago
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7 yrs ago
Current
Finished a grant propsal and got my research for the next semester green lighted, so I should be much more active now.
7
likes
7 yrs ago
So many replies to write, so little time!
2
likes
7 yrs ago
It feels so good to reply to all your RPs but then you just sit there wondering... well, now what?
3
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7 yrs ago
My immune system sucks so bad that I got the flu -- in July.
4
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7 yrs ago
I feel like garbage and I'm on both NyQuil and Benadryl so I can't write for shit right now. Sorry everyone, hoping to be functional soon!
Bio
It's Nikki! Or Beliael. Whatever floats your fantasy boat. Why Beliael? It's an adaptation of Belial/Beliar, a fallen angel whose name means "without worth". It is both edgy and apt. Oh, they are also cited as being the true ruler of the world and an angel of lawlessness. Like I said, edgy.
My avatar was initially a tardigrade, but I noticed I was unsettled by people's avatars when they were that abstract, which gave me no idea of their personality and/or appearance. So... have a very edited, ghostly image of my face. I'd post a normal one, but some of y'all are creepy.
I have a Discord (same username and icon) so if you'd rather chat on there, let me know! ^.^
Some Fast Facts About Moi
☼ 18 years old
☼ Female
☼ I live in the Midwestern United States/Central time zone (think Children of the Corn but way more boring)
☼ Enginerd, but a bioengineer, so slightly less cringy than some other enginerds(?)
☼ "Oh Nikki, you're such a typical Libra" ~ one of my friends who then proceeded to tell me my dog was so interesting because she's a Sagittarius, so... yeah, you decide how much stock to put in that.
☼ INTJ, if you'd rather put your trust in a psychology
☼ Starving bibliophile
☼ Working weird hours during the day, will mostly be on at night
I'm a total newbie to roleplay, long story short. I'm hoping to meet some cool people and learn how to become the best roleplayer I possibly can, though!
Preferably, I'd like to do 1x1s with a partner who is willing to critique me and help me grow as a writer and partner. Think of me as a blank slate that you can mold into your perfect partner!
My avatar was initially a tardigrade, but I noticed I was unsettled by people's avatars when they were that abstract, which gave me no idea of their personality and/or appearance. So... have a very edited, ghostly image of my face. I'd post a normal one, but some of y'all are creepy.
I have a Discord (same username and icon) so if you'd rather chat on there, let me know! ^.^
Some Fast Facts About Moi
☼ 18 years old
☼ Female
☼ I live in the Midwestern United States/Central time zone (think Children of the Corn but way more boring)
☼ Enginerd, but a bioengineer, so slightly less cringy than some other enginerds(?)
☼ "Oh Nikki, you're such a typical Libra" ~ one of my friends who then proceeded to tell me my dog was so interesting because she's a Sagittarius, so... yeah, you decide how much stock to put in that.
☼ INTJ, if you'd rather put your trust in a psychology
☼ Starving bibliophile
☼ Working weird hours during the day, will mostly be on at night
I'm a total newbie to roleplay, long story short. I'm hoping to meet some cool people and learn how to become the best roleplayer I possibly can, though!
Preferably, I'd like to do 1x1s with a partner who is willing to critique me and help me grow as a writer and partner. Think of me as a blank slate that you can mold into your perfect partner!
Most Recent Posts
@Beliael
Hey, put your link in here [youtube][/youtube] between the brackets. It will embed the video.
Cool! Thank you very much, I couldn't figure out how to do that!
I haven't even read your response but I totally did a happy dance when I saw the notification
I started listening to WTNV after I finished listening to the 1978 (I think) radio play series The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The books are good, but the radio play is even better. I couldn't just go back to listening to music at work, so I got online, did a quick Bing search and found Welcome to Night Vale.
It's surrealist humor and horror, and it's the best thing to happen to me at work. It makes even the blandest days go by faster. Plus, there is absolutely zero queerbaiting, which I feared early on. Listen to the pilot. Go ahead and ship it. It'll all work out. Kinda. I'm 74 episodes in, and it's still brilliant.
255
She had thought the carriage looked like a jailcart. Plain and unassuming, the sort that militias used to round up dissenters and bring them to the gallows. Of course, it wasn't. There were no iron bars, no men walking along side and jeering at those within, no anguished screams from the captured. But Briallen couldn't help but feel there was a darkness that clung to the wood -- no, buried within it, a toxic grub corrupting an innocent object, the same way the iron of the jailcart perverted an otherwise normal, mundane thing.
She hated all of it, the noise and décor and tasteful debauchery. All the people, gathering to watch her life -- at least the one she always thought she'd live -- end. Their eyes glinted with tears, were they for her fate or their happiness? After all, the common folk were the one reaping the reward. Not her family, and certainly not her. Briallen looked at her father, a man she knew was formidable in battle but soft of heart for her.
She had resented her father at first, to wed her to a monster, to sacrifice his only daughter to the thick, tangled unknown woods that whispered at night. She had wanted to scream at him, to fall into hysterics. He would've reacted. If she flung open the carriage door and ran, or simply gave him a pleading look, he'd bring it all to a halt at this moment.
But she couldn't do that. No. Every princess knows their duty: to marry well for their fathers, for the land. The last few years, though she was of age to wed, her father turned away suitors. He told her none of them were worthy of her hand, even suggested she should be the one to choose: the greatest and rarest of luxuries for a princess, to find her own love.
She had to nobly accept this task, the most basic of which she could complete: marry well for the sake of the people. She couldn't remember a time when the fae didn't torment this territory. In concept, her father's lands held the advantage of being against the fae's domain, leaving only one side for enemy armies to assault. She remembered, as a little girl, sitting on her father's lap in front of the fire, as he told her this. But the fae were unpredictable, and ultimately, there was always a battle front: guards nervously watching the mist enwreathed wilderness, shouting at shadows, and watching eerie lights that they never spoke of to one another. Weeks could go by without incident, and then overnight, disaster. Babies stolen, crops withered at the root, water poisoned, towns cursed to be forever mute.
This is for the people, she repeated, a mantra in her mind. She tried to avoid her father's misty eyes. She could not cry. So, instead, she examined the great Draenir and marveled at how small he seemed. Truly, she was his daughter: their noses had the same shape, their locks were the same shade, and their eyes always betrayed their emotions more than their words. She took after her mother in complexion -- pale, even after spending time in the sun -- and in the mottled brown and green of their eyes. She remembered her mother telling her that hazel eyes were lucky, that she was named Briallen because a single primrose was left in her crib when she was a newborn. They never knew who left it, but they took it as a blessing.
These days, Briallen wondered if that was just a story or if it was an omen.
She nodded her head to everything her father said along the way, mostly words of encouragement, reminding her this was the right thing.
He was right. She knew it was the right thing.
But why did it feel so wrong?
She hated all of it, the noise and décor and tasteful debauchery. All the people, gathering to watch her life -- at least the one she always thought she'd live -- end. Their eyes glinted with tears, were they for her fate or their happiness? After all, the common folk were the one reaping the reward. Not her family, and certainly not her. Briallen looked at her father, a man she knew was formidable in battle but soft of heart for her.
She had resented her father at first, to wed her to a monster, to sacrifice his only daughter to the thick, tangled unknown woods that whispered at night. She had wanted to scream at him, to fall into hysterics. He would've reacted. If she flung open the carriage door and ran, or simply gave him a pleading look, he'd bring it all to a halt at this moment.
But she couldn't do that. No. Every princess knows their duty: to marry well for their fathers, for the land. The last few years, though she was of age to wed, her father turned away suitors. He told her none of them were worthy of her hand, even suggested she should be the one to choose: the greatest and rarest of luxuries for a princess, to find her own love.
She had to nobly accept this task, the most basic of which she could complete: marry well for the sake of the people. She couldn't remember a time when the fae didn't torment this territory. In concept, her father's lands held the advantage of being against the fae's domain, leaving only one side for enemy armies to assault. She remembered, as a little girl, sitting on her father's lap in front of the fire, as he told her this. But the fae were unpredictable, and ultimately, there was always a battle front: guards nervously watching the mist enwreathed wilderness, shouting at shadows, and watching eerie lights that they never spoke of to one another. Weeks could go by without incident, and then overnight, disaster. Babies stolen, crops withered at the root, water poisoned, towns cursed to be forever mute.
This is for the people, she repeated, a mantra in her mind. She tried to avoid her father's misty eyes. She could not cry. So, instead, she examined the great Draenir and marveled at how small he seemed. Truly, she was his daughter: their noses had the same shape, their locks were the same shade, and their eyes always betrayed their emotions more than their words. She took after her mother in complexion -- pale, even after spending time in the sun -- and in the mottled brown and green of their eyes. She remembered her mother telling her that hazel eyes were lucky, that she was named Briallen because a single primrose was left in her crib when she was a newborn. They never knew who left it, but they took it as a blessing.
These days, Briallen wondered if that was just a story or if it was an omen.
She nodded her head to everything her father said along the way, mostly words of encouragement, reminding her this was the right thing.
He was right. She knew it was the right thing.
But why did it feel so wrong?
Heck yes! I'm so excited, this will be great!
254
@Beliael It's basically gonna depend on the players. I have 3 ideas but it depends on the ratio to NWs to CDs.
Cool! I'm definitely interested. :)
Oh my gosh the third-wave of feminism is my jam y'all, not the feminazi stuff, the real stuff -- true equality between the sexes, hell yeah! I wanna be in the draft -- wait not really, but for the sake of equality I definitely do! Micropolitics of gender equality are the shit, seriously. Let's give men and women leave when a family has a child. That's right. PATERNITY LEAVE MOTHER TRUCKERS. THEN MEN COULD BOND WITH THEIR CHIDLREN AND WOMEN WANTING TO HAVE A FAMILY WOULDN'T BE DISCRIMINATED AGAINST -- E'RY ONE WOULD BE TAKING LEAVE FOR THAT UGLY CRYING WHELP! Oh, and let's support ALL victims of sexual assault, men and women! Cuz the meninists sure don't seem to be doing much.
THIRD WAVE FEMINISM IS MY BAE. BELIAEL OUT.
Don't even get me started on strawberry rhubarb pie, I might lose it again.
THIRD WAVE FEMINISM IS MY BAE. BELIAEL OUT.
Don't even get me started on strawberry rhubarb pie, I might lose it again.
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