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STATUS: The last time I sent my picture to someone... oh wait, I've never done that. 10 mos ago
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10 mos ago
Current The last time I sent my picture to someone... oh wait, I've never done that.
2 likes
11 mos ago
I will never emotionally recover from the knowledge that Fire Emblem Awakening could have been a Pokemon crossover instead of a waifu simulator.
2 likes
11 mos ago
I can't find the brain anywhere inside this fog, chief. I think the brain has evaporated. It has become the fog itself.
11 mos ago
Psst. uBlock Origin doesn't have this "we've detected an ad blocker" problem. They also don't literally let companies pay them off to allow their ads through, like some other ad "blockers" out there.
2 likes
11 mos ago
The ideal number of RPs depends entirely on how active you expect your partners to be, and your own mental bandwidth for keeping track of characters and story threads.
7 likes

Bio

A late twenties/early thirties, they/them something-or-other who's been doing this writing thing on and off since my teens. When I need to blow off some steam, I play the kinds of games that would make the average Dark Souls fan scream with rage. Aside from those two hobbies, I don't make time for much. My roleplaying is probably the most social I'll ever be across the internet, but hopefully that's what you're here for. Time Zone: +9, Korea/Japan/Australia. Hello American night shifters.

Most Recent Posts

In |- Book Club -| → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Axelle Leroux


From the cell phone half-tucked underneath her pillow, a nearly-silent ringtone went off next to Axelle's ear, signaling the end of her six hours. As she was gently roused from her beauty sleep, Axelle had the same thought she'd been having all night still echoing in her mind.

I need to get to bed... She thought again, then blinked a few times.

. . .

...You are in bed, ma cher.

She stretched out all of her limbs, taking in the faint chirping of her alarm, and the smell of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which always lingered in the room. As she swiped to turn off her alarm, she checked her phone while she slowly shuffled over to the fridge.

6:01 AM








That girl's seriously up earlier than a retired Green Beret, Axelle thought apathetically. Her behavior is appalling, but her dedication is... something.

She yawned, and turned her phone's screen off. Then, she quietly opened the fridge, took out the small, foil-wrapped tray that held today's batch, and set it down gently onto the small countertop that the school's faculty had the gall to call a "kitchen area," as it had been labeled on the brochure. Next, she clicked on her small portable oven—a gift from her mother, and no doubt an attempt to tickle her nostalgia, as her favorite birthday present had been an Easy-Bake Oven from her father. With the oven preheating, it was time to jump in the shower.

Tossing her shirt and underwear carelessly onto the floor of the bathroom—who cares, nobody would see her do it—she clambered into the shower and turned it on. She shuddered as the cold water hit her skin like a bucket of tacks—but, the sound of the shower turning on was less harsh if the water hit her, rather than the floor of the tub. She was less likely to wake up her roommate this way, and it did a great job of waking her up, anyway. Washing her hair was also an ordeal—but, long hair was a woman's pride, or so her mother had said once—or half a dozen times—who's counting? Still, she tried to finish her shower as quickly as she could... which was still about 30 minutes. Axelle was the kind of girl who got through the day at her own pace, even if said pace was slower than 24 hours per day.

Wups, she thought as she toweled herself off, realizing that she hadn't brought a change of clothes with her into the bathroom. Living with a roommate was going to be an adjustment for sure. Quietly, she turned off the bathroom light, peeked out from behind the door to make sure Stormy was still sleeping, and quickly began cobbling together something to wear. Something I won't die of embarrassment in, but don't mind if it gets dirty... Oh no, I'm taking way too much time thinking about this! After she finished raiding her clothes drawer and closet, she swiftly sneak-dashed back into the bathroom to continue her self-care routine.

Before she knew it, it was seven, and she could hear Stormy getting up. Finally, she could dry her hair properly with the dryer while Stormy got coffee from the best coffee shop ever. That place had the good stuff: fair trade, no slave labor—oh, and it tasted good too. After she finally emerged from the bathroom, she flicked the lights on and looked for Stormy, but found nothing but a messy bedspread and an unlocked window. Why doesn't she use the door like a normal person? she thought dryly. She shrugged, tore the tin foil off the tray, and put the warmed-up cinnamon rolls in the oven.

While she waited for them to bake, she looked around the room that was to be her new living space. Stormy had already made herself at home, taking over all of the walls and some of the ceiling with her posters. As for Axelle, she had brought barely anything. On her nightstand, there was a single display case with various pins and awards from her days as a girl scout. Or, at least, there would be, if she could muster the courage to take it out from her stack of boxes, which were still in the closet. I'm sure a girl like Stormy would think it's lame, she'd thought every time she considered it. Then, there was her cassette audio diary—even more lame. She had some vinyl records, but if Stormy caught a glimpse of those, Axelle probably wouldn't be able to stop her from peeking into the other boxes. Finally, and most unfortunately, she'd probably never get her hands on any of her volleyball trophies until after her mother's funeral.

By the time Stormy was showering, the cinnamon rolls were starting to brown. "Oh, you're looking cute today," Axelle whispered to the half-dozen cinnamon rolls, lined up neatly on the tray. "Poke~♪" She stuck a toothpick into one. Yep, they were done. She slipped on her oven mitt, took the rolls out of the oven, plated them, and put the plate in a small box she'd acquired from a bake shop. "Crap, makeup!" she suddenly realized, scrambling for her purse. She didn't have time for much; just a little bit of this, a little bit of that... she had to stop herself from humming the song.

As Axelle "finished" her makeup, there was a knock at the door. "Can you PLEASE say something to your roomie about all the noise?" the twin-tailed brunette at the door demanded, right about the time Stormy emerged from the shower and began singing her lungs out. "I'll say something to her," Axelle replied quietly, smiling sweetly as she closed the door on the girl.

At Stormy's prompting, Axelle checked her phone again and read the newest message.

"I spent all night researching, so I'd be a little miffed if she cancelled because of a light drizzle," she replied matter-of-factly, though she'd been against the idea at first.

Slowly, she gathered her things. Purse—check. Strawberry and creme frappuccino with cinnamon rolls—check and check. Book bag full of girl scout cookies—check, check and check. She wouldn't need her textbooks. Despite her resting "daydreamer" face, she was actually laser-focused during class, and had a fine-tuned "this will be on the test" radar. Her phone had Google, a calculator and a notepad, and that was more than enough. "Lead the way, ma cher," she said to Stormy, smiling warmly. "For the coffee," she said routinely, handing Stormy about $15 CAD.

As the carpeted floor of the dorms gave way to tile, Axelle's heels began clacking loudly on the floor.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, remembering something. "I promised the neighbor I would say something to you about your loudness."

Beat.

"So, I'm saying something," she says matter-of-factly.

...and, that was the end of that conversation!

Sure, Stormy was loud, and a bit of a party animal. One would think that being around her would be like being at a loud party 24/7, but a loud "party of one" was a bit different. As long as she wasn't being pressured to drink or be boldly social, Axelle didn't mind being around that type of atmosphere, even though it didn't really suit her demure, poised-but-playful wall flower bit. Her stance on Stormy's antics seemed to be "as long as you make it home, I don't see a problem with it."
In Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
~Journey~


Ashley gave Xara a load of shit for holding them up for hours—something she only allowed him to do because she had allowed Kavius' confession to their responsibility for the explosion to calm her nerves a little regarding her pursuers. Luckily for Xara, Ashley had no idea what he'd been doing all that time, aside from acquiring some supplies—and luckily for Ashley, Mikhail and the others were there to dissuade Xara from trying to do something similar to her. She did try to interrogate Kavius regarding the duel, pretending to be interested for more "normal" reasons than to gather more details regarding their fighting styles, but when it came out that Kavius somehow managed to beat the mage, she had difficulty focusing on her original intent. "You beat him, but lost to me? Something doesn't check out here. Who's holding back against who?"

After unsuccessfully trying to push it out of her mind, Ashley decided that she'd better check in on Aleria, to make sure that what happened was at least consensual—she had smelled of alcohol, after all. As was typical of Ashley's way of thinking, she wasted a lot of time and brain power trying to come up with a way to delicately broach the subject, before realizing something obvious: Why am I still trying to find an opportunity to ask her? If it's this hard to catch her alone, she must actually like Tonka. They've become inseparable. Asking the question is redundant. Upon having this realization, Ashley decides that she'd better give up, rather than risk making one or both of them angry with her undesired concern.

She was both glad for and somewhat annoyed by the quietness of the sea. At some point, she had decided that she'd better cut back on the coffee and try to match everyone else's sleep schedules, but now that she was here in the moment and the withdrawal headaches were more than just a theoretical something "future Ashley" may have to deal with, the fact that making a pot of coffee was now actually possible made resisting her addiction that much more difficult. For the briefest of moments, she contemplated making Mikhail a sort of accountability partner for her, but she felt so utterly ridiculous for even thinking of it that she gave up on the idea immediately. Just one cup of coffee. Just one. And a bit of wine to dull the... shit, what is this, the Santa Lyrica? Of course there's no wine, you idiot. Only the strongest stuff for burly seamen. She eyes the moonshine warily. I haven't really drunk much alcohol aside from the poisoned stuff Lady Madeline gives me at parties, have I? Hmm... I can handle about... this much, maybe?

When next Mikhail saw her, they both got to find out what kind of drunk Ashley was. "Hoi, Mihhell. Dun bovvah mee. Ah'm dwunk. HUCK!" She hiccuped loudly and suddenly, completely disrupting her grumpy demeanor. "I's shorryy. Ah donno wathaell deesh saylersh puddin at—" She points at the bottle of moonshine. "Aye wazzna dry'n twogeddrun. On'st." Apparently, she didn't know what kind of alcohol it was. Still, despite drinking what she must've imagined was a very conservative estimate of how much she could handle, she was apparently that much more of a lightweight.

Later that day, after she'd sobered up a little, she suddenly spoke up. "Hey. ...I've been a little selfish. Back home, at the tavern, it seemed like you wanted to speak to the 'real Ashley.' So, since this mission may be our only chance to speak together as equals, I wanted to... show you something a bit closer to how I am at home, I guess. Actually, I may have gone overboard just to see what you'd think of me. ...I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." She shifts awkwardly, looking out over the railing of the ship at the stars on the horizon. "I'm a dark knight. Er, dark mage—and a knight. Both those things—" she clarifies, still a little tipsy. "—so choosing my words carefully is often a matter of life and death. I know my way of speaking is a bit stiff, and the way I have to switch between hiding my emotions and exaggerating them to fit in makes me seem... well, I get all kinds of comments about it. Anyway..." She turns away from Mikhail, a little shy now.

"Oh, but you deserved that joke about your 'lance.' You didn't believe me when I called you handsome, and that ticked me off just a lil' bit, yeah?" she says in a faux-grumpy voice. "My heart may be given over to the darkness, but I still have feelings, you know? A gentleman like yourself should be more considerate, really," she drawls like a spoiled noble lady, as though she were mocking somebody in particular with this "bit" she was doing.



~Ecological Dead Zone~


The next day, Ashley realized that the calmness of the sea was unnatural. Yesterday—although she was drunk—was an ordinary day. This was not.

As she always did with Troe, she considered his words as carefully as she did her own. Without trying to lead her in any particular direction, he'd asked her how she was feeling today, while doing his best to pretend that engaging in small talk wasn't something completely unusual for him. "Yes, I feel it too," she confirms, cutting in line a bit with his planned list of questions. "I've worked with curses, evil spirits, and various mind-altering drugs. Even been bitten by a black widow once. You know that feeling of impending doom you get when you're poisoned like that? That unspeakable dread? ...Well, if you know it, you know it—but this isn't quite like that. It's more like the feeling of being watched, but... much more intense." Ashley continues to ponder a bit. "You ever been in someone else's manor—maid and menservants coming and going, clamoring every which way, busy about their work—but then you turn a corner, and there's nobody there?" she says ominously. "And you start to wonder about why. Why is nobody here? If someone sees me in this place, will I be in danger?" Ashley persists, making a bit of a clueless face. "It's that kind of feeling. This... profound sense of not belonging. Like I've unknowingly set foot on holy ground, angered some powerful something that's sneering down at me, and I'd better pray that I don't anger it any further."

It wasn't often that Ashley spoke her true feelings on something, with no reservation, so she took this opportunity to privately ask Troe a few questions of her own. "You know. Just because something no longer has a mind of its own doesn't mean it can't coordinate with others of its kind," she says, assuming that Troe will know what she's talking about. "You know how insects can communicate using pheromones? For example, you kill one hornet, and suddenly, the entire nest is attacking you? ...At first, I was thinking that our best option to secure the reward money would be to bring a live specimen back to the capital, perform a live dissection, and report our findings in person. But, as I keep thinking, more and more—especially with this foul mood—I find myself thinking: forget the reward money; what about the safety of our country? Let's do the research on-site, and report our findings normally—maybe bring back a severed head to appease the adventurous among us. But whatever evil is at work at Irinoth, we should leave it here—not risk bringing it back with us. Don't you think so?"



~Ships are Approaching~


Ashley had her eyes on the horizon the whole time, looking out for the Santa Lyrica, and was one of the first to notice the approaching ships—and their trajectory. "BATTLE STATIONS!" she cried out, shortly before the first round of enemy fireballs flew up into the air.

Ashley reached a hand forward, creating a magic circle. It was an off-white, slightly violet color, and legible only to mages. Of the various forms of dark magic, this was a subtle one: that of a kind of "counterfeit" holy magic. Its runes pronounced suffering upon the enemy, masquerading as judgment.

"Woe to the inhabitants of the earth, who turn their eyes and ears from the Goddess and her precepts. Children of men, I know thy iniquities: how thou plunder and kill innocent men, and ravish women. Therefore, hear this word of judgment concerning thee: This day, the sea shall be thy master, and ye shall have the winds for a tormentor; yea, ye shall have each other's flesh for meat, and blood for drink. So have I written," Ashley finishes, pointing forward as the magic circle disappears... and nothing seems to happen, at first.

But aboard one of the enemy ships, there was chaos. All at once, a swarm of locusts had descended upon their sails, chewing at them. If nothing was done about it, their ship would be severely, if not completely disabled. One reckless mage, clearly a new recruit, was trying to delicately scare the insects away with flame, before a more senior sorcerer nearby scolded him severely, then began using ice instead. Others joined him, and soon the situation was under control, but not without damage to the sails, and a disproportionate cost in magic.

"Take evasive action; keep us out of range of their archers for as long as possible, and see if you can't separate the ships from each other—that one should be slower now," Ashley barked to the helmsman, before running back down to the main deck.

"O Goddess, my eldest friend. Be my shield. Envelop my mind, that I spare no thought for my enemies. Envelop my heart, that I may not be troubled. Envelop my body, and mold me into the image of an angel of death." As she says this, a thick, dark miasma emerges from under her cloak, surrounding her.

"Is that..?!" one of the mercenaries aboard the locust-infested vessel exclaimed quietly.

"Aye. The rumored dark mage, wanted dead or alive. Today's our lucky day. We bag her, you and me are set for life!"

"Khhk-khhk-khhk!" Ashley snickers, pure malice spreading across her face as she smiled. "That's right! All eyes on the witch! Waste your magic on me!"

Ashley cackled as fireball after fireball came hurling toward her like meteors, and she batted them out of the air like they were nothing. She limp-wristedly shakes her hand as though it were slightly too warm, mocking the enemies through the looking glass. As though they suspected it to be some kind of a trick, or a fluke, they try again with a second volley, only to fail a second time.

However, as it became obvious that Ashley's plan to evade the enemy ships had a definite shelf life, the voice she used to bark orders became more desperate. "Do we have any cargo we can toss?! Anything?!" she begged Tedreus, mentally going through everything she knew about naval battles—which, admittedly, wasn't much—but she had to think of something. She had to.

"Nothin' that'll make up that much difference in speed, little champ. You did yer best. Our best option now is to fight 'em man to man."

Ashley knew what that meant, despite the captain's attempt to make it sound simple. She looked crestfallen.

"Prepare to be boarded!" Ted shouted out, while Ashley took the moment to swallow her pride.

She angrily casts another miasma, using it as a smoke cover against impending archer fire as the two ships—which had hardly had time to be separated at all—approached, and the faster one was very nearly within range to shower them with arrows. "Everyone, retreat below decks now!" She shouted, maintaining the others' cover as she watched them scramble. By the time she herself began to run for the hatch, arrows had begun raining down, and were missing her by narrower and narrower margins as her cloud cover started to dissipate. Before she could shut and lock the hatch, one lucky arrow made its way through the crack and embedded itself in her left shoulder.

At first, Ashley didn't know what had happened. It felt like she'd been punched. It wasn't until she started falling down the stairs, and the arrow started getting knocked around and jostled against the gaps between the planks in the wall that she started screaming. But, she wasn't crying for a healer.

"Lock the hatch! LOCK IT PLEASE!!" she screamed, channeling all of her agony into those three words, as though it were the last order she'd ever need to make.

Tedreus obliged, scrambling over her writhing body to get to the hatch while Mikhail helped her to her feet.



~Below Decks~


Ashley had steadied her breathing as best she could by the time she was brought to Aleria.

"I hoped I'd... not need your... services... so soon, Sister..." she breathed, trying to ease the tension. Her shoulder was torn up pretty badly, as though she'd tried to remove the arrow herself, though she obviously wasn't so inexperienced as to try something like that. Something else must have happened. She was losing blood fast, and without a healer on deck, she would, at the very least, be down for the count. She seemed to be taking it well, though. So well, in fact, that she was still—weakly—barking orders.

"I need... mages... the portholes... knock'm dead... drown'm..." she mumbles weakly. Were there portholes? She couldn't remember. "Mikhail, you... take over—for me..."
In Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
"Be that as it may..?" Ashley prompts him to continue as she watches for Xara, blocking the stairs with her leg. Ashley knew from firsthand experience how vindictive the fairer sex could be, and wasn't prepared to believe the redhead's version of events merely because she'd amassed a crowd of "witnesses," especially since Kavius honestly didn't look that guilty to her. She supposed it was possible Kavius simply had the same mastery over his own emotions that Ashley reckoned she did hers—though, at his age, it was unlikely.

Ashley let out something like a mix between a groan and a sigh of relief. "That explosion was you, huh? Well, we should set sail anyway, before Redhead changes her mind." For a proper-lady-knight type, Ashley seemed surprisingly okay with this, but Kavius didn't know that Ashley had just dodged about 30 arrows.

"Does the stinkboat smell worse somehow to you now? Like some new nasty smell?"

Ashley covers her mouth, concealing a condescending smirk. "Kid, I'm a knight. I've spent my whole life surrounded by nasty smells. The stables, dung-caked criminals with infected wounds, decaying corpses, bleach—sometimes all of the above. Compared to that, the smell of fish is—" she inhales sharply as a new smell approaches her from behind. It was the strong smell of perfume, mixed with the weaker scent of love potion and just a hint of alcohol—a combination Ashley found intimidating. She turned and was surprised to find Tonka standing there, cradling Aleria in her arm. I knew this woman was dangerous... She's like a feral beast!

Tonka looked down at Ashley with the same type of gaze, since she smelled just about the same to her—minus the alcohol—and no-one was getting any points for guessing who she would take to a hotel, given the chance. They both stared at each other with a mix of disbelief and awe. One had ostensibly just bedded the son of a duke, and the other, a chaste maiden of the holy church. It wasn't immediately apparent which feat was more impressive, but they weren't about to talk about it with everyone else eavesdropping.

Don't ask, don't tell? Ashley's face seemed to suggest.

Agreed, said the nod from Tonka as she passed Ashley, carrying Aleria to her bunk.
In Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ashley was closely watching the slightest movements of everyone who stood out from the crowd, which was difficult given the colorful and festive nature of many of its members. Her concentration was broken when Mikhail suddenly started pulling her by the hand. How do you expect me to draw my sword like this? Oi! she thought, glaring at him accordingly—but he was focused entirely on getting to that bar. "Mmh." Ashley made a half-hearted sound of protest, well beneath the noise level of the crowd. Were she a helpless maiden, she supposed that Mikhail's "man-on-a-mission" face might be really charming, but right now she wasn't feeling it.

She was visibly worried when she couldn't find Tonka or Aleria in the crowd at the bar, and audibly groaned when Troe confirmed that they were missing. "This is bad. Only a third of us are accounted for, and the captain probably won't leave without Table Hopper." Ashley tries to leave—stumbling a bit—when she realizes that Mikhail is still holding on to her hand. "Move it, boys!" said the boyish mage to the two grown men, wresting her hand free from Mikhail's grip.

Ashley's face and movements became noticeably less tense when she suddenly spotted something. "There!" she said, pointing toward Aleria, who was riding on Tonka's shoulders. Aleria seemed to notice Ashley too, as she was waving, seemingly in her direction—or maybe she was still a bit drunk—not that Ashley could tell from this distance.

As it turned out, Ashley was surprisingly easy to spot. It was as if the dark mage's very presence sucked the light and color from the crowd, creating a pale spot of duller hues that drew Aleria's attention—or maybe, she was still a bit drunk. Ashley's hand gestures seemed to indicate that she'd spotted them, and that she wanted to meet up at the boat.

Pushing through the crowd, this time on her own, Ashley made it close to the boat without being trampled. The crowd was thicker here, and angrier—not a good sign. Eventually, she finds herself face to face with the redheaded girl spearheading this "protest," currently arguing with one of Tedrius' crew. "Peace! Peace, at once, in the name of the law!" Ashley shouted, projecting her best "knightly" voice further and louder than those standing nearest to her would have ever expected—fruits of her training, one could suppose.

The "peace" Ashley asked for was marred somewhat by the slight din of chaos still going on in the background, but it was serviceable for her needs. "I've heard the gist, loud and clear. Now, one of you, please calmly give me the details," she says sternly, eyeing the redhead.

"Are you in charge of that black-haired blackheart?" she demands, a bit subdued compared to before, but still furious.

"That depends on the context. Who is she talking about?" Ashley asks, turning toward Ted's man. He whispers the name to her.

Ashley's stern face melts, replaced by one of concern. "You poor girl!" she suddenly cries out, in a distinctly feminine voice, catching the redhead and many of the other women off guard. "Did he attack you?! Are you hurt?!" she breathes, leaning toward the redhead, who was shorter than her for a change. As if suddenly realizing that she'd lost her composure, she takes a step back and clears her throat.

"Uh, n-no, I'm fine—he didn't hurt me, per se... he... he peeped on me in the bath," she says in a low voice, as if suddenly embarrassed.

Ashley softly embraced the girl, comforting her. "Thank the Goddess," she whispers to the motionless redhead. "That man is more dangerous than you know. I've been tracking him... and once he leads me to his hideout, I'll make him pay. I swear," she grits her teeth and tightens her embrace, before suddenly letting go of her. "Go. You and your friends get somewhere safe—now. Leave him to me, okay?" she says to the redhead, giving her a determined smile.

"O-Okay!" the redhead blurted out, getting swept up in the moment and taking a few steps away from the boat.

Ashley turns, smirking proudly. The 'gap' always puts them on the back foot, she thought, satisfied with her performance. Getting her to admit that Kavius didn't attack her probably helped calm her down, too.

"Hey," Ashley calls after the redhead. "Name's Elizabeth," she said, indicating to everyone that knew her that this was an act. "Let's meet again," she said insincerely, waving the back of her hand to the girl.

"Yeah! Go get 'im, Liz!" she shouted.

"You're so cool, miss!" another girl called out to Ashley as she boarded the boat.

"...Maaan. I thought she looked like some lame pushover, before. To think I almost bagged a knight," the tall girl from before groaned.

"If you did, we'd have been in real trouble," her business partner replied, laughing nervously. "The scary pirate lady saved us, there."

The crowd of girls began discussing whether or not this "Elizabeth" character was an undercover knight or a bounty hunter, and which would be cooler, as they walked away.

Ashley, meanwhile, barged below decks, clearly unhappy with Kavius. "I heard you peeped on some girls in the hot spring—care to explain?" she begins, with a false smile. Then, she remembers the more important matter at hand. "Who's accounted for?" she demands coolly, looking around. Sam's still here, poor girl. ...No mushroom girl... but she probably flaked out, like I hoped she would. She's too young to die on a suicide mission. Overdosed in an alley is still tragic, but it's a peaceful way to go by comparison. That just leaves...

"Where's Table Hopper?" she asks Kavius calmly, as though she hadn't just glared daggers at him over the hot spring incident.
In |- Book Club -| → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In |- Book Club -| → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

...is ready to get schooled!
In |- Book Club -| → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
I haven't seen RWBY or WITCH, but if you're fine with me revising the design of my character a couple times, I'll take a stab at something.

I was going to say lavender, but by the time I got home from work I was beaten to the punch. Oops.

A few questions for you:

What's a flowerpot character? My best guess is that it's a fragile or helpless character who won't grow without intervention from other players, but I'd like to be sure.

What's the relation between spells and sub-spells? Are spells a category (like ice), and sub-spells are the specific attacking moves?

Actually, I'll read anything you have for how magic works in your setting, even if it's long.

I'm on Discord pretty much all the time, so a server would help me out a lot!
In Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ashley sat in the windowsill, her back against one side and her right foot against the other while she waited for Mikhail. From here, she had a clear view of not just the ocean, but also the door to their hotel suite as well as the streets. Her bored gaze wandered between the room, the streets, and the ocean. With each ship that appeared on the horizon, Ashley's left hand instinctively reached for her pocket-sized book of scriptures, and remained there until she was sure that it wasn't the Santa Lyrica. There seemed to be some commotion in the streets about a pervert on the loose, but Ashley thought little of it. Wow. A pervert. Who could have imagined dressing like that would cause lewd men to come out from the woodwork, she thought self-righteously. A lady like her was above such brazen tactics as showing off her skin to strangers. Hers was an educated woman's game—one that worthless men like that would surely fail every time.

Aside from her newest contestant, an exception whom she tries to push to the back of her mind for the time being.

Realizing that she'd been impatiently looking at the door to the bath for a moment too long—as if expecting to see something—her slightly embarrassed gaze wanders around the room. Abruptly, she had a revelation: Ah. This is a couple's suite, after all. With every thing she noticed that wouldn't be in a normal hotel room, her cheeks became a slightly brighter shade of red. Okay, maybe I am a bit brazen myself.

Suddenly, something breaks her train of thought—a bang, which would have been barely perceptible at ground level, in the noisy streets below. From her vantage point, she could see smoke rising in the distance, and as she watched it, she felt her heart beating faster. Had they disembarked higher up the coast, and approached on foot? It became apparent in that moment that Ashley didn't know what her pursuers looked like—she only knew what ship she needed to steer clear of. Eyes locked on to the smoke, she listens for another explosion, barely noticing Mikhail's return as she hopes desperately to be wrong.

"Anything show up yet?" he asked, but received no reply.

No second explosion. Either it was nothing, or the battle she imagined might be happening was already over—a bad sign.

Various feelings—instincts, Ashley called them—waged a war for dominance in Ashley's mind. Torn between her desire as a knight to investigate and protect the peace of this place, and her duty to guard Mikhail, Aleria, and the mission, her face betrayed no emotions—only the urgent look of someone thinking fast. Underneath the darkness clouding her heart, there may have once been a scared, helpless girl who was in over her head, but now, she couldn't feel anything that she would call "fear." Instead, perhaps, there was a "weight" of responsibility.

"I wish I could give a clear answer. Did you feel that?" Ashley asked Mikhail. Surely, she thought, the bathwater must have been shaken as a result of the explosion. "Either way, we've no more time for luxuries. We're regrouping," she says plainly, exiting the room and holding the door open for Mikhail. As she said this, she scowled at herself for not having given everyone some kind of signal to watch out for—or, at the bare minimum, a deadline to return to the ship. Remembering her remark to the captain about "herding cats," she couldn't help but wonder if she could be so lucky a second time.

Everyone is counting on you. If you can't act like a leader—with or without coffee—you should just let Mikhail take over.

As these thoughts are going through her mind, she almost forgets to toss the hotel key into the wooden bowl sitting on the desk at reception. That's when she remembers that Mikhail still has her money. She looks at him as if to ask for it back, but then turns away and keeps walking, as though now weren't the time to worry about it. Or perhaps, she thought their funds were safer with him, after all.

Unfortunately, she only knew where one person was, and it was the person she considered the most dangerous of the nine. However, someone as tall as her would have a much easier time trying to find someone in a crowd than either of them, so Ashley felt it was her best move. "We know where Tonka is. Let's get her first. Lead the way," she said to Mikhail, drawing closer to him. One hand on her scabbard, she eyes everyone in the crowd warily, as if unsure who she were looking for. She seemed almost... no, she was definitely tense.
In Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ashley locked the door to the bath and sighed. Finally, something resembling privacy. Although... her newfound solitude left her feeling somehow... unsatisfied. Why, though? Propping up her swords in a handy location near the bath, the emotionally stunted dark mage tried to reason with the restless feeling in her heart as she slowly removed her garments one by one.

Did she... want company? No—even if she were suddenly struck with the odd desire to share a bath with someone—something she'd never done before, nor did she want to try—she'd obviously have invited Aleria first. Actually, why did she drag Mikhail along, anyway? Even if it was spur of the moment, it would have been easier to attach herself to Tonka, and going to a hotel with her would have been less awkward. Still, out of everyone in the group, Mikhail was most worthy of her rarely-given trust. It wasn't as though she expected a man like him to make a move on her. Did she... actually want him to make a move? No, surely she didn't. It wasn't as though she intended to bed a man she had no intention of marrying. Not that she wouldn't marry him, if she could—like, if he asked her—but there was no way she was going to ask him. She was beneath him, and that would be inappropriate—well, it was a bit too late to worry about propriety—but there was certainly, absolutely no way he would ever ask her, even if he didn't care about the difference in their social status—for a multitude of reasons Ashley promised herself she wouldn't dwell on anymore.

Yet, no matter how much she didn't want to dwell on it, one of those reasons was now staring right at her from the mirror next to the bath. It stared at Ashley with the narrowed, tired eyes of a caffeine addict. Stripped of her rank as a knight captain, her sorcerer's garb, and the semi-formal men's clothing she wore underneath, she was now both undeniably a woman, and one who looked almost ten years younger—and she hated it. She was shorter even than most women—not helped by the fact that she refused to wear heels. Bandages covered her forearms, calves, and "inadequate" bust, concealing scars which, had she been born a man, she figured she could wear proudly—but on a woman, she thought they were unsightly. Those muscles, though modest enough for a lady knight, would be more fitting on a man, too, she concluded. No feminine charm whatsoever, she thought bitterly, reminiscing on the few noblemen who had attempted to court her over the nearly three years she'd been a knight. This immature body... but once they learn that I'm 28 and self-sufficient, they lose interest! Scum like them should just jump off a cliff, right into a trash fire! Ashley splashed a handful of water onto the mirror, distorting the image. She sighed again, and began unwrapping her bandages. She needed to focus on the task at hand, not wallow in her regrets and bitterness. Ashley inhaled sharply as she stuck her bare legs into the bath. The pain from her scars wasn't unbearable, but it was enough discomfort to serve as a reminder of her past mistakes. She takes a moment to allow the pain to subside before sitting down. As she did, she suddenly realized why she felt so unsatisfied by Mikhail's underwhelming reactions to her antics—unlike the other men in her life, she couldn't place him.

Noble, commoner. Man, woman. Teacher, student. Knight, civilian. Leader, subordinate. Ashley's mother had ingrained in her the need to follow particular social conducts around different types of people. Ashley only thrived in social situations with people she could categorize, and with roles she could play—but Mikhail defied any kind of expectations she could use to find out what "script" she should use when interacting with him. He was not a typical noble, nor a typical man—and though he was still a squire, he didn't act like a typical knight, either. At a loss for how to handle him, she'd just defaulted to saying whatever came to her mind, and doing whatever she felt like doing. No matter what she said or did, though, Mikhail seemed to just blithely accept it. What was he really thinking, underneath all that indifference? Was Mikhail the kind of man who could accept her faults? Or did he really not care at all? No, rather, why should he care? It's true that she felt pretty close to him lately, but they'd hardly said a word to each other before the last three days. Sure, a detail-oriented dark mage like her could learn a lot about a person from very few interactions—such skill was a tool of the trade—but Mikhail was a pretty ordinary guy. He barely knew her at all, and had no real motive to get to know her more. He also vowed to protect everyone, not just her. She really did just kind of casually ignore that part, didn't she?

How... depressing.

Ashley rubs her temples furiously with her palms. You're just being selfish. You haven't taken his feelings into account even once. You're flirting with him, even though you know it'd never work, and you're getting disappointed when you don't get something you never asked for, and wouldn't accept even if he was unreasonable enough to offer it. You ridiculous mess of a woman. Go find a hole to crawl into and die of embarrassment already.

Dunking her head into the bath, she lets out a silent scream of self-directed frustration before begrudgingly bringing herself back to a sitting position so she could breathe again. Why do I need coffee and a bath to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain, so I can think through such simple problems? I must have the emotional awareness of a spider.

Looking around the room for something to distract herself from how pathetic she felt, her uninterested gaze glanced from perfume to perfume before turning full circle back to the corner where she had propped up her sword, which she had dueled Kavius with—and another sword, which she had kept concealed and shown to no one. My secret weapon. I wonder what kind of face that worrywart would make if he knew I'd spent most of my last bonus on a cursed sword, Ashley thought, smirking as she imagined Lord Clive trying to lecture her about something she understood better than he did. Rather than the Devil Sword, she had opted to show Clive the other thing she'd bought: a Prayer Ring. She'd bought it early, expecting that she'd have to offset the lack of support from her team of combat medics somehow, but with Aleria coming along, it would hopefully be a redundant measure.

Suddenly, she remembered something about Prayer Rings. They were commonly bought by love-struck maidens, and gifted to gallant knights on their way to the battlefield, as a promise to be reunited. Now, she found herself wondering what kind of message Clive must have thought she'd been trying to convey, buying her own ring and showing it to him. Suddenly, Ashley's head found itself submerged in the bath again.

Eventually, Ashley would realize that she'd been clean some time ago, and begin the slow and tedious process of drying herself with a towel, re-wrapping nearly her entire body in clean bandages, and putting her clothes back on over those bandages without disturbing them too much. The arduous process was a small price to pay for an extra layer of defense against the elements, the cut-purse's knife, and most importantly of all, the prying eyes of the curious. She would show her body to no one—but her shameful scars, above all, must remain a secret—even from the healers, if such a thing were conceivable.

Ashley emerged from the door to the bath, looking as sharp as she did on the day of departure—sans her cape and arm band, which she had left on the boat when she'd stumbled out of bed. "All right, your turn," she says to Mikhail, tying her hair up. Now with her mild bedhead sorted, she looked... a bit like a butler. It was kind of amusing how removing one piece of clothing could have such an effect. "Is there something on my face?" Ashley said sternly, having seemingly fully returned to "lady knight" mode. "Get a move on. If you hadn't noticed, you stink too."
In Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Her unsuccessful attempts at grappling hand-to-hand with Kavius still fresh in her mind, Ashley silently cursed at herself for being so weak. Where had all of her strength gone? Wait a minute, had she eaten anything at all aside from that swamp water she'd tried to turn into coffee? Oh, of course she hadn't! When she got into a working mode, Aunt Alma would often have to force her to eat. As if her body were suddenly reacting to this "new" information, Ashley noticed that her hands were shaking—not out of fear of what these girls might to do her in the hotel room bath, but out of hunger.

Change of plans. The bath could wait; what she needed more than anything right now was some food.

As Ashley began thinking of what she might say to the girls to get them to change course, Nitonka saved her the trouble—in a truly dramatic fashion that even left Ashley a little stunned. She was certainly awake now. This woman... was kind of a badass, huh. I wonder if she realizes that they were only after my money... or does she actually think I'm worth a second glance? Ashley wondered, a little bemused. Before Ashley could offer to buy her a drink, though, she walks away and another familiar face approaches.

"Would you like an escort?" came the slightly sarcastic, faux-gentleman voice. Forgetting her manners, Ashley snickered.

Rather than taking his hand, Ashley took the whole arm. Now he'd done it. He'd given her an inch, and she was going to take a mile... or so it seemed. Rather than feigning bashfulness and cracking some joke about how she'd scored her Santorini dream date with Mikhail exactly as planned, she simply leaned into him like someone who genuinely needed the help. "I need food, coffee, and a bath, and I don't care where, as long as it's me and you, no locals, and no ocean," she says as she slightly struggles to re-adjust to walking on solid ground.

Her veneer of "noble lady knight" charisma had been chipped away little by little over the past few days, at least around Mikhail. Was it because she was finally away from her mountain of duties back on Faroth-En, and felt no need to wear a mask in front of him? Had the camaraderie of the crew, cheering on their "little champ" lowered her guard a little? Or perhaps it was the cynical option: just a lack of coffee. Whatever the reason, she was acting unusually vulnerable today.

"Thanks... for catching me back there. Though I'm supposed to be protecting you, it ended up like this."
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