Elizabeth Pilfrey

Fandom roleplays, anyone?

Do you have any FxF fairy tail plots in mind? I'd love to play Lucy/Natsu's daughter (or other gender unspecified character)

Those Exceptionally Literate and Creatively Proficient Inquire Within

It seems I've stumbled across someone as outwardly pretentious as I am inwardly! You'll notice I'm blatantly casual: it's a "luring you into a false sense of confidence" trick. They never suspect the innocent face (and they never check my luggage; I once accidentally flew cross-country with a switchblade in my backpack, and no one noticed). But don't be fooled: I'm a writer. I write. I do it well. And I'm totally a grammar.... Well, I'm a senior editor at a magazine.

Throw me a plot! I'm looking for humor and high-stakes adventure, am low-maintenance and wonderfully twisted when it comes to creating impossible situations. Pirates are my specialty, but I'm currently working on some space pirates mumbo-jumbo, and would love to take a break by being, oh, I don't know, a lady knight? A lady knight from another planet? A teenage boy? A fish? Ja'afa?

Message me. Let's smoke our pipe tobacco and be literary elites together.

Bonus points if we can find a mutual fandom.

Pirates, Vampires, Space?! [Advanced]

Looking for like one or two more if ya down.

Space Pirates!

Ilya noticed that he walked past her too quickly, betraying fear. She was glad, even relieved, that he still felt a sense of fear. For a moment the feeling of being at a complete loss returned, but she quickly shook it off, straightening from her archaic bow and turning to follow Renfred and the human boy. She kept no more than three paces behind him, fingers tracing the hilt of her sword. Unconsciously, a look of unease twisted her features, eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip. Humans, she thought to herself, but the though trailed off. She wasn't sure what to think, not that thinking had ever been her strong suit. Thankfully, the boy relieved her of any further strain.

"I suppose you'll be embarking on some new adventure now," he said, "I will do my best to be useful."

"Useful," she hmphed, "We'll see about that." The adrenaline of battle was quickly wearing off, and aches and pains began to niggle at her bones. She was ready to go back to her ship, to her armchair, to her spirits, to her crew, put her little problem in Jazz's or Q's capable hands, and drink. They approached the airlock chamber and Renfred, who was leading the party, paused, looking back at her uncertainly.

"Um, m-m-ma'am?" She looked up from where her gaze had been drilling into the human's back and scowled at Renfred.

"Address me as Captain, sailor. Go on," she jerked her chin at the airlock. Renfred opened it. Inside, one of Ilya's pirates grabbed him, threw him against the wall, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from the poor man, patted him down, and sent him on his way up the ladder to the Glory. Ilya gestured to the human. "You too, go on. Be gentle with this one, Eri, he's our prized guest." Ilya couldn't see the masked girl's face, but everything about her posture indicated just what she thought of their new passenger, and though she didn't quite throw him throw him against the wall, her fingers clamped just as tightly around his arm, and the frisking she subjected him to was no more gentle than Renfred's. As soon as the boy disappeared up the ladder, Ilya grasped the bottom rung and followed, wincing with every step. Her communicator beeped and Jazz's voice came through.

"Hey-o, Cap. The twins have unlocked the core and patched in our AI. The Asses won't be able to remotely track her, but we're going to need to land to finish the job. I'm thinking Eden?"

"I like the way you think. The payload?"

"Secure cargo hold. I hope you didn't kill that fancy-ass. He's probably got access codes." Ilya reached the top of the ladder, where more of her crew in standard black N-10 armor was trying to restrain the human while Aloya, Ilya's tall, voluptuous and golden-horned master of the brig, taunted him.

"Silver trim on their fucking day clothes? No wonder they haven't got a planet to go back to. He's kind of pretty, though, Captain," Aloya grabbed the human by the chin and studied him a little closer, "Can I keep him?" Ilya smirked, never taking her eyes off the boy. For a moment she wondered what it must be like for him, then immediately cursed herself for thinking about her prey in such terms.

"I apologize, but this boy is my honored guest, and a perfectly harmless purebred besides," the pirates snickered at that, and shoved the human towards her with a harsh kick in the back for good measure. A little bit of Ilya's usual good humor returned at seeing him helpless before their strength. "Put the new ship on a tow. We're going to Eden." Aloya whooped and the pirates cheered. Ilya smiled at the human and gestured to the doors leading our of the airlock bay and into the ship proper. They hissed open. "Now, tell me. Were you a good boy growing up? How much does your family want you back, hmm?"

Pirates, Vampires, Space?! [Advanced]

More spots open hit me up!

Space Pirates!

Ilya watched the expression on the human's face carefully, knowing full well that she'd already won, that he'd crumble and tell her everything about himself, lick the stardust off her boots if necessary. She would let him, for a time.

Then, she would kill him. She hated cowards and grovelers, people who kept their heads down and took their beatings, went only where they were permitted and spoke only when spoken to. Her mother had been one of those types, and that had left her and little Ilya at the bottom of the food chain when they could have been rolling in luxury at the top. Grovelers were the scum of the earth, and Ilya, considering herself a rather altruistic person, cleaned out the scum whenever she could. She inched the blade away from his neck, luring her prey into a momentary false sense of security before striking the killing blow. When the human began to rise from his knees, however, she paused, eyes narrowed. The fear had melted from his eyes, replaced by cold, hard, indignation. He never wavered, and his eyes, so full of what she now recognized as utter hatred, never left hers. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in her chest, and she felt the urge to put her sword away, leave the bridge and have Jazz shoot the creature instead.

"I am an ambassador, the son of an influential Association family and exceedingly well-educated. However, it appears you are more interested in making a joke of me than doing any actual negotiation, so I will make it quick. You may kill this "soft human boy" if you wish, because I'd rather be dead than continue to partake in your little game!" He opened his arms as if to invite her sword and stared her down. Ilya felt one of her eyebrows rise impossibly high and her lips part in shock at the sight of the frail little creature before her defy all her expectations. He's a human, Ilya, you should know better than to expect anything from them a voice in her mind, possibly Elizabeth's, chided, They're a virus, a cancer, a cockroach, impossible to eradicate. They destroy what they touch like they've destroyed their home planet, and yet they live on, growing, changing, thriving. Ilya swallowed, and her sword arm dropped an inch as she grasped for words.

Renfred's voice broke the tense silence that had settle over the empty bridge. "H-His family is really rich, if that makes any difference," he said, and the human's eyes flickered away for a moment. It was as if a dam had been removed from the stream of her consciousness; suddenly, all of her words came rushing back to her, her mind flying full speed ahead. Take him for ransom. Sell him if no one wants him back. Purebreds fetch a high price anywhere. She lifted her sword to the level of his neck, and her customary grin settle back onto her face, although she smiled little thinner, hiding her sharp teeth.

"Is that so, human boy?" she caught his eyes again, then laughed and sheathed her sword with a dramatic gesture, "You'll have to tell me all about it on deck. Please," she gestured widely towards the door through with Renfred had left moments ago, and stepped aside with a sweeping bow. Her face darkened for a moment when the movement jarred her left leg, but she quickly continued, "The Queen's Glory awaits."

Space Pirates!

Despite his shaking and sweating, Ilya saw a cold anger flare up in the human's eyes when she drew near, and that interested her more than the expensive clothes and fine features. Was it contempt she saw? Disgust? Or perhaps hatred? Most likely a mix of them all. As a pirate and a mutt with the muddiest blood of anyone she'd met in the galaxy, she was used to seeing that look in the eyes of most people she met. Especially the purebreds, who mostly preferred to pretend she wasn't there and absently pat their pockets on the rare occasion she encountered more than one of them at a time. She didn't understand it, and long ago she'd learned not to dwell on it. Their loss. She expected the one in front of her to bolt, or faint, or do something rash and reckless, the way humans always did. She did not expect those dark, angry eyes to drop as the human actually fell to his knees before her and proceeded to beg for his life.

She listened, eyebrows climbing higher on her face, until he was finished. Poor Renfred, piloting a vessel with this idiot on board must have been a nightmare. "Boring," she said, "At least I know Renfred knows how to pilot a ship and order other people to do his bidding. You're just a soft human boy." She lowered her sword until the blade rested against the collar of his uniform. The threads split as the softest touch and began to smell burnt as the heat of the obsidian-edged blade slowly melted them.

"Convince me," Ilya purred.

Space Pirates!

He looked well-bred and positively expensive. Ilya liked that in a man. His soft skin and lean build marked him for a purebred human, his hair and the silver trim on that all-to-familiar clothing screamed his importance loud enough that even Ilya managed to cool her temper and reconsider killing him. He also used words like "may" and "converse", which positively tickled her love of the absurd. She liked sweet, clean things. They amused her. He would amuse her, she thought, for a time. And he would probably fetch a fair price, if they found someone who wanted him back. As with all pretty things, she thought, someone inevitably would. She smiled, and nodded to the huddled crew.

"Thank you so much for honoring us with your weapons, ladies and gentlemen. Your help will not be forgotten when it comes time blow some of you out the airlock," she began in deep, sultry tones. She loved this part, when she got to do her theatrics while Elizabeth glared icy death at the people listening. Elizabeth was dead now, but Ilya would just have to go on. With a bloody sword in one hand and a semi-automatic rifle in the other, perhaps she made a terrifying enough picture by herself. Her golden eyes glowed from the shadows the emergency lighting cast on her face, and she smirked, casting them about the room until they landed on a pale one who looked like the captain.

"You!" she whipped her sword at him so fast a few drops of blood flew off and hit the captain in the face. The poor, pale man looked as if he were about to faint. "Are you the captain of this ship?" The pale one looked hopelessly at the expensive one, shivering, and gulped, then nodded and stepped forward. Ilya tipped her hat back on her head, the better to see him.

"Y-y-yes sir. Ma'am. Sir. I mean--" Ilya interrupted before the man choked.

"Name?"

"C-captain Renfred Livet, Association Diplomatic Service 101st Special Corps, ma'am!" he rattle off, clearly shaken.

"You'll make a good pirate, Renfred. Welcome to my crew. Or would you prefer the airlock? Take your time deciding, I have a few minutes. The same goes for all of you, sailors! Except you," she raised her gun and shot, just barely missing the expensive-looking one, and a crew member who had clearly been trying to access a control panel and summon support, went limp. "I don't like traitors. Am I being perfectly clear?" The crew members looked at each other, and one of the braver ones nodded.

"Good. Renfred, darling, why don't you take these fine men outside to the airlock," her voice returned to its deep, sultry tone, and though she spoke to the captain, her eyes were fixed on the hawk-like eyes of the other, unblinking, "Jazz, we have new recruits. Keep the ones you like, kill the rest." Her eyes had not moved from his, and she hadn't blinked, either.

"Copy, Cap. We've secured the engine room, and the Twins are getting to work. She'll be all yours in a blink."

"Did you hear that?" Ilya asked the man in front of her, spinning her sword and walking toward him, "This lovely spacecraft of yours, and everything inside it, mine. You, too." She kept walking until he was just close enough to touch, never breaking eye contact, never blinking. She was taller than him by half a head, and that close, he would clearly be able to see that her golden eyes had slits for pupils and were a little too large for her face, and around them, a strange pattern of darker brown marred her coffee-colored skin. Her teeth, when she smiled, looked pointed. "So, no, darling. We may not... converse, as you say. Unless you would like to beg to join my crew. I am kind enough to hear a few supplicants today." She continued to tower over him smiling her feral, sharp-toothed smile.

Space Pirates!

"They could outrun the Black Death itself and they just sit there," Jazz said in disbelief, staring open-mouthed at his monitor, where the little Fortuna could be seen sitting motionless in the middle of the King's Freeway. Ilya was bent over the control panel, shaking in uncontrollable, silent laughter, tears running down her cheeks. This was too good, too sweet. She could hardly believe that their desperate plan had worked, but it had. "Unbelievable. Either their Captain is an idiot," Jazz continued, "or they're really carrying the good stuff. Maybe both." He looked over at Ilya, tall, black-haired, brown-skinned, and dressed like a complete nutjob in ancient Earthling costume. "You're a madman and a genius, Cap."

"My god. I can't... I haven't...." she struggled for breath as she lurched upright and met the eyes of her crew. The shock of unexpected victory, of relief after so many months on edge, lit up their faces as they looked at each other in disbelief as they bent over the viewing screens. The final figure released from the hull of the armored escort. Jazz whooped and hit the button to retract the cable and pull the man in; ten seconds later, electricity flashed before being swallowed by the darkness of space, and the rest of the crew erupted in cheers and shout. Ilya, still laughing, turned to clasp arms with Jazz and watch the screen over his shoulder. In a minute, the escort ships were left floating uselessly in space, fried by the laser cannon, and all seven crew members were safely back aboard the Queen's Glory. As soon as the last suit entered airlock with a whoosh of icy air, Ilya hopped up on a table, unsheathed her sword and brandished it in the air.

"Pirates! The hour has come! We board!" Ilya cried. The bridge filled with cheers and the interior lighting came on as the ship whirred to life. She continued to shout cries of encouragement as her crew gathered their weapons, and surged off the bridge, hopping from deck to table and raking blades along the aluminum walls and steel pipes until the whole ship reverberated with the ring of with battle.

"Thrusters engaged," Jazz called to Q over the din, who responded with mechanical precision:

"Gravity-lock released!"

"Landing gear retracted, and we are airborne!" Jazz turned to Ilya, grinning, "Captain? The honors?" Ilya returned the grin and leaned over from where she still stood on the table and pressed her open palm on the engine engage panel. It rippled, chimed happily, and the Glory lifted off from the asteroid's surface and, guided by Jazz and Q's magic fingers, swooped in on top of the Fortuna, dropping a connecting passageway from their bottom airlock to the other ship's top. Ilya watched with glee as a dozen of her strongest fighters stampeded down the passageway to airlock, beam guns and swords at the ready, shields engaged. At Ilya's command, they would open the gate separating them from the other ship so they could drop down and force the doors. Jazz pushed back from his seat, grabbed his weapon, and turned to join the boarding crew, but paused.

"Captain, with all due respect--" he glanced at Ilya's left leg, but she scoffed.

"Kiss my ass, more like. I can keep up just fine." She hadn't felt this alive in weeks, with the heat of the impending battle warming her cold blood and setting her skin aflame. Her hand still tightly wrapped around the hilt of her sword -- an upgraded replica of a 17th century human invention -- she hopped off the table. Her left leg twinged, and it took a second longer for her to get up than at full strength. Jazz nodded, and pretended not to notice as he turned to speak into his comm device.

"Open the doors at the Captain's command! Do not kill anyone important-looking! Otherwise, knock 'em dead!" Ilya straightened, caught his eye, and winked.

"Right behind ya," she said, and Jazz hurried off. In a second, the Captain followed.

By the time she dropped through the airlock onto the Fortuna, the pathway was mostly clear, sounds of fighting far ahead of her. A half-dead man on the ground tried to pull his gun, but Ilya was faster, and his brains were left to decorate the walls.

They'd done well, too well. Ilya met few enemies as she made her way to the bridge, tapping her comm device on as she went. The sound of fighting filled her ears, and she smiled.

Space Pirates!

The Queen's Glory drifted in the gravity of a small palladium-rich asteroid, red hull cloaked in shadows and hidden from sensors by the interference of the asteroid's core. It wasn't a small ship, though mostly empty for lack of crew, and filled with the heavy silence of anticipation. Of the seventy-five men that had sailed together maybe fifty were left after a run-in with law enforcement on the planet of Dor. The rest had been arrested or killed on the spot, among them the first mate and some of their best fighters. The Glory had lifted off as soon as news of the ambush came through, losing most of their cargo. With nothing left to trade, they ran for Tortuga. Patrols and bounty hunters hounded them for all five weeks of the journey, harrying the ship until they finally escaped into unregulated space.

Captain Ilya reclined in an ornamental silk armchair on the viewing deck, watching the stars and the blinking red and yellow lights at the edge of the King's Freeway. Anyone on official business followed that trail of lights. Everyone else did their best to stay as far away as possible. Their target belonged to the first category: a government ship carrying government valuables, not just the poached furs and diamond goblets found on a rich man's pleasure barge. The vessel itself was state-of-the-art, small and fast, but the escort would most likely consist of slow but almost indestructible armored and shielded vehicles. Thankfully, they had once captured an ex-military engineer who then joined their crew and knew all sorts of ways to get out of situations like this. Seven men clung to the surface of the asteroid, awaiting the convoy with military-grade shield disruptors and a laser cannon. The escort wouldn't be a problem. And neither, Ilya thought, would the smaller ship. This haul was their chance to get back. Succeed, and they'd be able to pirate in comfort the rest of their lives. Fail, and die. The Captain smiled, stroking the ornamental handle of her lucky sword. They'd succeed. There was no other alternative. Not as long as Ilya was Captain.

She stood from her armchair and turned to look down on the bridge, where her crew awaited, tensely watching the screens or the windows. Sometimes, when she got exceptionally drunk, she liked to think of them as her family. A sensor blinked, everyone's heads snapped around, and Morg nodded.

"Ladies, gentlemen and crew members otherwise," they all looked up at her, in her frivolous ancient regalia, richly embroidered black and gold coat, heavy rings, scarlet shirt open to the navel and enormous three-pointed hat, and Ilya smiled. "Let it begin!"

The convoy was soon visible to the naked eye and crawled ever closer to the asteroid. The asteroid, in turn, crept ever closer to the King's Highway. The moment the target passed below them, the crew members moved, pushing off from the asteroid toward the armored vehicles, attaching the disruptors, and immediately releasing themselves to be reeled back to the Queen's Glory. As soon as the shields were down, the cannon would begin to fire. Ilya's hands rested on her belt, watching, ready to act.