DELETED08743

Eternal Voyager

The abrasiveness of that tongue was meant to induce a reaction. Valerna strived to awaken the man from his self-imposed lethargic state. Everything about Veron appeared distant and detached. She could empathize; she, too, had been broken in the past. His world may be dead, but hers was alive and thriving. The globe would continue to rotate on its axis whether she inhabited it. The wheels of time and fate wait for no one, least of all this voyager.

Veron remained in that dream-like state. The disconnect between their predicament and his consciousness was evident. How riveting. Out of all the souls, she could have been cast adrift with the macrocosm selected this damaged and errant spirit. The vermin wasn't a riddle; his presence was an effrontery to all Valerna stood for. She'd offer no kind words or generosity lest she do more damage with an open hand than a closed fist. What the boy required was a cold dose of reality. Something she'd happily provide should a moment present itself.

The spider never mulled over what the rat regarded her as. Their divide was grand; it exceeded the breadth of space that wedged itself between realities. She could minister until the heat death of all existences, and not a single word would be ruminated over. Veron had ears but was deaf, an eye but was blind, and skin but couldn't feel. She would have likened him to a corpse, but that would be an insult. The dead at least nourished the soil and the maggots; Veron couldn't even be bothered to do that much.

The smirk he presented provoked no response from the web spinner. The giantess couldn't be bothered to care for one that didn't care for itself. She had better things to do than play captain save a sad boy. That opening statement did little to alleviate her harrowing criticisms. Once again, he had missed the point. It appeared the deformed bovinite had an aptitude for sidestepping the crux. That, or his skull was too thick to be penetrated. Whatever the case, she wouldn't fritter her energy.

Veron felt compelled to accentuate her arachnoid elements. The man's playful banter was met only with her resting bitch face. If only he were so worthy. As he stood now, there was nothing he could offer. But something told the giant that his prior self wasn't much better—a suspicion she couldn't shake and one that rationalized raising her guard. Her senses were whetted by experience, and she kept watch over her fellow wanderer and their surroundings.

"Drink you? I'm sorry. I don't eat junk food or empty calories." She responded before waving that absurd notion off with her hand. Valerna's brown spheres darted to the foliage that rustled in the distance.

Could it be his rancid stench attracted an opportunistic predator or carrion? Considering the game she had witnessed thus far, she doubted the beast could be that imposing. Nonetheless, Valerna wouldn't leave anything to chance. Complacency kills, and she had no intent on dying on this mudball with this imitation of a carcass to keep her company.

Instinctively, those arachnid ligaments affixed to her back shifted about. Those spindly appendages opened back up as their tips aimed at the general direction of the source. The spider's posture was relaxed, her mind sharp as she controlled her breathing. Those pupils dilated as the thrill of the hunt coursed through her supple body. Valerna wasn't afraid nor threatened; she was excited. Finally, she'd have something valuable to measure her situation.

The wildlife of this world divulged much information. Life adapted to suit its environment. While the backdrop might be alien, certain principles remained invariant. Biology, despite its diversity, was relatively narrow in breadth. The universe's antagonism didn't support wimps. Dead-ends were destined for oblivion. There were merely a handful of ways to move across the terrain and finite senses by which one might interact with it or dissect data.

The deer she had consumed and other miniature mammalians supplied much-needed edification. They were all lilliputian in stature. And whatever feasted on them within this biodome couldn't be too large. They were also devoid of any magical traits. An observation that informed Valerna that the world wasn't as magically charged as her ancestral home. There, even the saurians had organs to exploit the magical forces. They'd gather light to their frills and expand them, sending a blinding flash to ward off threats.

Should the thing rushing their way defy all empirical evidence, she had a backup plan. The lake and her ability to bend water would allow a quick escape, and the silk she could produce might ensnare or slow down the predator. Once she was skating on the surface of that still lake, she might have been able to balloon her webs and fly far away. For this reason, she exhibited no fear and kept a neutral yet fluid stance.

But would she save Veron if he somehow proved less adept? Likely, if for nothing else, then to assert her dominance over the highbrow "king." It wouldn't be the first time the less evolved gender required saving from their hubris. Sexual dimorphism favored the females of her species. Men were relegated to watching the children as their wives ran the world and broke the wilds. And while she had met many species, whether the inverse was true. Rarely had their men impressed her.

Regardless, Valerna was ready to see if Veron would be the first or just another subsequent disappointment among an infinite line of failures. Either way, it would be entertaining.

Eternal Voyager

The rodent standing before the spider made no effort at obfuscation. Valerna could discern the tinge of enthrallment. The poundage of allure kept Veron seized in her orbit. Whether this bewitchment would be short-lived or long-lasting was inconsequential. She regarded the odd little creature as an enigma. But sometimes, the mystery is more engrossing than the answer. One thing was evident: the two were unique in more ways than one.

Those distinctions became all the more pronounced as time trickled on. The Araneae's mind, like a sponge, soaked in whatever she could thread into a picture. She analyzed not just what he said or did but also what he didn't say or do. What started as conjecture metamorphosed into theory. Fragments of those theses budded into empirical data or were tossed to the wayside. Those inner ruminations were safe from her inquisitive yet spindly mental feelers.

Veron was an odd beast. He fancied a slow approach, sulking as if levying every move. His opponent favored a much more fluid approach to defensiveness. The chieftain fostered the sentiment that the best defense is one of offense. That the only winning move was to prod at the brooding vermin and see how he might squirm. It was a winsome dynamic, a brilliant juxtaposition of contrasts. However, like all things, such romanticization would come to an end.

The king spoke, and he elaborated. The linguistic and mental webbing that Veron spun was messy. The spider could see through the holes and follow the fragile twines, barely supporting his delusions. How terrible of a thing to fall, but even more depressive to not comprehend the gravity of that plummet. The rat strutted about; his bosom puffed with a sense of achievement or worth. He used appellations that affirmed a halcyon stretch. Despite having one eye, he seemed to be blind.

It's a pity. Denying the truth is often the innate reflex of the dim-witted or arrogant. But that was the opinion of a humble spider. Valerna hearkened to the weaving of that tale. The account was met with stoicism. Her mind tugged on the strands of data as she interconnected them to construct a clear image. The interest she harbord had waned ever so slightly. One particular statement stood out as the most disconcerting.

Veron labeled the province as his own. To the chieftain, this communicated volumes and gave her a glimpse into the true nature of the rat. He failed to comprehend a rudimentary element of leadership: servitude. Accountability was a powerful and simple word, yet its application was seldom self-applied. But it made sense; Veron likely considered his constituents as pawns to slake his desires. He was no true warrior, no true king, and no true man. He was a child wearing the skin and boots of an idealized version of himself.

The "king" shifted about. His eyes darted from her to that of the panoramic habitat that surrounded them. The scritching of his chin hair was interpreted as a vapid idiosyncrasy. Valerna wouldn't delve much into it and instead weighed the concluding proposition. But there was a more remarkable revelation than his deficient leadership. The varmint was lost, cast a drift, just like her. What were the odds?

It stood to reason that perhaps weak points existed where such anomalies were more plausible. Nevertheless, it was suspicious and came across as a cosmic contrivance. Veron was fumbling in the dark as much as she was. He couldn't provide any solutions or insight into the domain around them. Hopefully, the braggery of his "good" arms wasn't hot air. Otherwise, she'd likely be babysitting some inbred bovinite, which didn't sound appealing. Hopefully, such a reality wouldn't surface.

Valerna soughed. That split tongue desisted the spinning of her lip piercing. Her talons drummed against her hips as she waited for the man's attention to return. Once Veron stopped marveling at the squirrels, and she had his undivided attention, the spider would initiate her reply.

"You've fallen far and remain oblivious, or so it seems. A king who doesn't serve a greater cause is a juvenile who plays the dictator role—a sad and contemptible thing. But it's clear to me that your world and people mean nothing. You're either delusional or a fool. You are unaware of the seriousness of your claim. The heft of responsibility must be a foreign concept.

I apologize. I thought you were interesting, but I now see I made a grave error. You'd have to forgive me if I remain skeptical about your alleged good hands. They did little good for what was "yours." I fail to see how they'll avail me, given that I am not your plaything or property. I don't know what game the universe is playing by crossing our paths. But I'll play my role a little longer.

Go ahead, oh great king. Lead the way. Let us do battle and vanquish what remains on the fringes of this world. Far be it from me, a mere voyager, to overstep my boundaries. I would never have spoken if I had known you were such a great man."

Valerna spoke with a grin. Her dominant hand now rested on her chest, and she pretended to quiver at the immensity of his shadow. Grant it; the ruse was dramatic and would only persist for a short time. Valerna returned to her original posture and deportment before adding one final string of thoughts for the rat to consider.

"Whether we like it or not, we're stuck together. But unless I see merit, be cautious, for circumstance is a fragile alliance at best if not nurtured. I look forward to seeing what a kind of Valucre can do." She concluded with a smirk.

The search continues

bump

The search continues

Bump

The search continues

Bumps with thorax

Eternal Voyager

The landscape that accompanied this wink of time was misleading. Everything about it circulated placidity, much like the surface of the lake. From the sounds of nature, the gentle breeze, and the agreeable temperature. It was all so picturesque and ideal. The juxtaposition was undeniable. But it seemed neither of them fell victim to its charm. A testament that communicated volumes, even if neither party was willing to voice it.

What the vermin lacked in stature, he made up for in grit. Valerna could see it, his defiance and stubbornness. Her drudgery at clutching the reins was contested. The two immersed themselves in battle, albeit a conflict not of the flesh, of crude matter. No, the battlefield was intangible and of the spirit. Would the stranger illustrate himself as a worthy quarry? Regardless of the outcome, the great spinner was intrigued to see how great he'd rise or fall.

The man raised his defenses, presenting a wall to repel the siege of those inquisitive eyes. Even with his best efforts, some things slipped through the gaps. The wanton fire was observable. She felt the man considered her a prize or trophy—some rare catch demanding to be subjugated. If so, the fellow would discover how quiet it is to fall. The acne of male egoism, inherent not in her kind, was reversed.

While he may have viewed her as a mountain, she envisioned the rat as submissive and breedable. Providentially for the creature, she hadn't deemed him meritorious of a carnal tussle. She might appear a monster on the surface, but Valerna was a proper lady who comprehended her value. She had long since conquered her lesser compunctions and bestial hankerings. That didn't mean temptation never reared itself. The smell of his blood was inebriating. The internal wrangling began, whether to wrap up the morsel for consumption or to crush such wants beneath her heel.

Ultimately, the man was categorized as empty calories and junk food. And the spider before him was watching her figure. Or so she'd tell herself, an inner exchange that invoked a grimace. The Araneae never contemplated how her domineering sights might perturb the man. The prey's feelings seldom penetrated the scope of the hunter. Rude, perhaps. But such was the natural hierarchy and way of the macrocosm. Who were they to oppugn it?

The giant had no inkling about the condition of Veron's mind. Whatever thoughts circulated through that cranium of his remained liberated from her insight. She may have been vigilant, but she wasn't a seer. No amount of flesh or traditions could perforate that thick skull. And even if she had been endowed with such an exalted ability, Valerna would yet respect the sanctity of one's privacy. There were some lines not even she was willing to violate.

The duo stood close, the vermin maintaining a distance between them. A cushion that likely ameliorated his vexation. Fear was a powerful motivator, yet an all too common shackle. The giantess wasn't offended, quite the opposite; she took it as veneration. The stranger had deemed her a threat and wavered to diminish his guard. She'd brook it all and vest the man his wishful thinking. In actuality, the feet between them weren't a barrier. Her reach was more significant, and the man was in mortal danger should it degrade into a skirmish.

Ignorance was euphoria, and the boulder by which he crouched behind didn't bolster the man's status. It compromised it. Valerna didn't come here to do battle at the end of worlds. She was a pawn under the yoke of an unfeeling universe—an all too common plight, perhaps even universal. One's acknowledgment of this fact was of no consequence. Our wants and desires never hamper the reality of things.

Veron spoke, presenting his name along with a title. The meaning eluded her cognitive webbing as she was unfamiliar with the honorifics of this world. That moniker caused her to tilt her head. Valerna was frustrated that the context supplied little in the way of an epiphany. The only thing she had managed to reap from those strings of meaningless words was the prospect of land ownership. If accurate, would that make the brooding one noble? It made sense; the peasantry lacked the luxury to piss away time ambling through the woods all willy-nilly.

The man resumed his loquacity with a much-needed lens. Once upon a time, that suggested he no longer held or cared for such titles. Why, then, even belch them out? Those mortally inclined were fickled things, clinging to the past in some hopeless bid to get high off the fumes of nostalgia. It all culminated with Veron touching and calling focus to his eyepatch. Did he expect her to inquire? Why would she? What benefit did such a line of inquisition offer her? Little outside of a history lesson meant to stoke the flames of a broken man's ego.

Valerna's amber eyes didn't bother to follow the lead. Those eyelids tapered as she sharpened her glare. That split oral muscle rotated, her lips piercing as she waited for the man to conclude. The spider raised her groomed brows. Could it be not only had an eye been visibly robbed of him, but his hearing or ability to recollect as well? She had given her name first. Was it his intention to ask what she was instead of who?

The giant clicked her tongue before sealing her lips shut. Throughout the ordeal, her spinal growths never refrained from preening her hair. They'd eventually halt before closing themselves inward and relaxing against her back. Her hand still grasped at her hips as she deliberated if there was a point regurgitating the same answer. But on the off chance he suffered from some cognitive impairment, she would.

"Who am I? I already answered that; I'm Valerna Jorgenskull. If you meant to ask what I am, that is infinitely more enthralling of an inquiry." She paused, raising her hand before motioning as if shooing away a fly.

"Who and what I am hold no bearing over this place. The imprints I left aren't visible from this space. I could bore you with my history. I could fling a slew of names that hold no meaning over you. But I'm not interested in such things. Feel free to stroke your ego off if you wish. But I will provide you a truthful answer." She replied with a smile. A faint pause left ample room for a deep breath as she continued her response.

"I'm a voyager. Nothing more, nothing less. I know, it's boring. But what did you expect? Some grand mystery to be revealed? For me to drop an earth-shattering revelation? You'd be wise to dismiss such notions. Ultimately, when all else fails, there is only you. Add as much fat and meat, but the bone is all that's left in the end. And even that can't last forever." She answered, knowing it wouldn't fill Vernon's spirit with excitement. There was no lie, merely a reduction of a truth.

"Tell me, what is a king, and are we near or at Nesthome? Should I be alarmed or impressed at my fortune? I'm not arrogant enough to believe myself to be the apex. Surely there must be something greater lurking within or beyond these woods." She questioned with a smirk, presenting the man with her pearly fangs.

Eternal Voyager

The chiming forth of that melody had lured in an unsuspecting traveler. He was just another soul lost to the call. The sonnets of which had eluded the man's comprehension. The anecdote it told, even if somehow translated, would fall on deaf ears. The vocabulary of the common tongue was insipid and pale. It lacked color and texture, a dichotomy ingrained in her native lingua. Perhaps it was this incongruity that roused the wander's inquisitiveness? Curiosity is dangerous, yet a crucial vulnerability if one aspires to develop or enhance oneself.

The stranger's approach was bereft of stealth. His footfalls resonated to her ear, slipping between the interludes between the plucking of chords. The talons discontinued their jovial dance across the strings while those amber eyes meandered to the advent of the disturbance. He was ostensibly homely, possibly destitute and solitary—a fragile thing, much like herself. The depth of his depressive miasma had yet to be culled or dissected. But one needn't be a savant to gain insight into his personage.

The vermin spoke and loitered about. There was a clumsiness to it. No, it wasn't some botched gesture but apathy. Impassivity has its usefulness if applied judiciously. But did the man before her hold such prudence? A question she would abstain from voicing as time would demonstrate itself as a satisfactory enough arbiter. Valerna's domineering gaze fixated itself on the eyesore. She took him in, analyzing the physical hallmarks.

She had seen a creature like him before. The horn affixed to his crown made her instinctively think of the bovinite's—something they'd find insulting, given his more spartan appearance. The eyepatch didn't warrant any outward or internal reaction. The giantess was accustomed to witnessing the maimed. She was a mercenary in a former life. And war brought with it a heavy cost. The body quickly healed, yet the mind never demonstrated itself as resilient. But just because the man was missing an eye didn't suggest he was a soldier. Such injuries often transpire in the most mundane of ways.

The Araneae was impressed by the stranger's capacity to emphasize the obvious. Indeed, nothing escaped that lonesome eye. She'd have to keep her guard up lest the brute uncovers some dark secret and drags it into the light. Gingerly, her dominant hand raked back those auburn locks as she stood. The difference in their stature didn't stand out to the spider. Such a thing was seen as typical and thus undeserving of note. Still, she'd maintain a healthy distance out of caution.

The sky was devoid of clouds. The solar rays kissed the earth as its luster bounced off the still lake. It produced a glimmering effect, heralding pleasant weather for the day. The chirping of the birds and the droning of insects usurped the soundscape as normalcy returned. Valerna's succulent lips curled into a smirk as the atmosphere between them remained uncharged. There was no tension, no easily perceptible indication of enmity. How refreshing.

Valerna positioned the harp inside the sack of webbing she lugged around before gently lowering it to the soil. She stood upright, arching her broad hip slightly to the right before settling her hands onto them. The elbows were flared as the abnormality stood proudly before the stranger. Her thick legs were parted, the bag visible behind her as those skeleton-clad digits clutched her flesh. The undersuit of her silk and the bone molding layered on top hugged her frame tightly. She was clothed from the neck down, yet the alien garb resembled an additional layer of skin with how form-fitting it was.

The arachnid's bosom rose and sank, nostrils flaring wide as she ousted a heated exhale. The appropriation of silence was by design. A subtle mode by which she aired a degree of dominance. Valerna was communicating to the man that she dictated the flow of conversation. And that all subsequent responses would be subject to her whims. Whether or not the stranger was cognizant of this tidbit remained unseen; it was seen as irrelevant and inconsequential.

Those spider ligaments attached to her back preener her hair, combing it back. Its volumetric sheen refracted the sun in a comparable way as the lake did. There was an air of potential beauty to the horror before the man—a union between the primal and the civilized, a walking and breathing paradox. Valerna had deemed the wait long enough. Not one to fritter any more time, her tongue delignated across those oral rims before she'd croon forth a rejoinder.

"Well enough to summon an audience, or so it seems." She added, stressing the fact she had ceased her playing. Yet another gesticulation to air dominance.

"There is no bewitchery here—no ensorcelled artifact to change my appearance. Your eye isn't deceiving you. However, the crude matter we don can change how people perceive us. But only a fool canvases the veneer and presumes to understand another. A proclivity we all must fight against." Her voice was melodic yet older than her body suggested. It bore with it the cloak of age, the aura of a wise woman. Something further stressed by those domineering and indifferent eyes.

"How wise of you to keep your distance. Trepidation hangs in the air; it's palpable to us both. I doubt our meeting will come to blows. Something tells me you're the sort to strike first if you discerned such danger emanating from little ol' me. Only the brave or the stupid would approach so candidly. Which one are you I wonder?" Valerna paused before continuing her address.

"I reckon this is the point where we dispense with pleasantries? I'm Valerna Jorgenskull, a name that tolls hollow here. Like you, I'm merely a voyager." She added nonchalantly. Her fist banged against her breast as a greeting. A gesture whose meaning was likely lost to the fellow, given it stemmed from her culture.

Valerna tapered her eyes as she studied the form before her. He'd likely feel it, a muted dissection, one without guilt or obfuscation. She was a predator, and so was he. It was only natural they'd evaluate one another. They'd be foolish not to.

"You can come closer, I don't bite." She concluded before sashaying forward, closing half the wedge of space that stood between them. Her strut was unpretentious, with only the nuanced bouncing of her buxomness to add anything interesting. That was assuming the fellow cared or was susceptible to the charm of a woman.

Regardless of whether things proceeded swimmingly, the spider intended to make the most of this wink. He was a source of valuable information, data that could spell the difference between survival and an abrupt demise. She intended to catch whatever she offered in her mental webbing and to store it for future use. Knowledge and information were an indispensable tool in her arsenal, a universal commodity in her experience. It can be a shield or a sword, depending on circumstances.

The search continues

Bump

I can haz 1x1 Advanced writers for Superheroes/Sci-fi/Fantasy SoL/Character driven RP??

Hiya! I'm WindingWay and I like to write! Maybe even with you!

I am a 30ish, PST time-zone, Advanced/Advanced+ RPer with a decade and change of experience with an appetite for character driven RP, preferably with a little romance and a little smut (where it makes sense) thrown in. I can offer strong, detailed, hopefully engaging third-party past-tense omniscient posts. I think part of the fun is trying to mold the writing style and cadence and expression to the character I'm writing. I'm happy to double or multi, I'm happy to world-build, I'm honestly just happy to write with a like(ish)-minded partner who can offer most of the same things back.

But don't be intimidated, there's obviously room for variance, we can meet in the middle! =) Except on the third-person past-tense bit, that's like... that's not negotiable; I just find 1st Person tooo personal and present tense just feels off. I digress!

I prefer to play female but I'm open to all sorts of pairings/partners (male, female, non-binary, trans, futa, and so on).

At current I'm not rich on story concepts, I'll admit. So those are tbd? But I'm a big big fan of playing anything that isn't just a normal old person. That can be as mild as a dwarf or an elf or a whatever to superhumans with powers, senses, additional limbs, and so on all the way down to the deep end with things like gnolls, aliens, monsters, and that. I really like character driven RP that's at least as much about exploring the characters experiences of story as it is the plot/story itself.

So if you're looking for a friendly, articulate, descriptive (but not like... Tolkien-too-far descriptive) sometimes-saucy (like 70/30 plot/smut split?) writer to writer to write with, I might be your gal!

I'm currently really into Superhero stories. But I'm open minded. Drop me a PM and let's see if there's a spark!

Thanks ^-^

@WindingWay

Perhaps we can work together in weaving a narrative. I don't see myself as an advanced writer. But I'm all for character growth and development through the adventure they will undergo. I can send you one of my OC's if you wish, just let me know. And I'll attach a post of mine so you can gauge if my writing style will suffice.

https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/192093-eternal-voyager/ic

If you're intrigued we can hash out the details regarding the premise. Thank you for your consideration regardless if you're interested or not.

Eternal Voyager

Valerna Jorgenskull