ErosSense

LaConranne's Academy

Awesome! Thanks! I might take you up on that at some point. I'm just hoping one or two more people find interest so I can kick it off.

:)

Stay Awhile and Listen.

Woohoo! Thank you :)

Stay Awhile and Listen.

In the solemnity of a suspiciously tranquil evening, the sun evenly setting over the horizon, was when something would, infallibly, occur. It would have been odd within itself that the Rose Stone Tavern was not bustling with activity at this hour -- but what was more odd was the way the door slammed open, prompting a new presence.

More so, the way this stranger carried himself. His eyes, spectral blue, keen and challenging, scanned the tavern with folly unmatched; he rested his hands on his hips before venturing further in. Once he saw what he was looking for, an almost mocking grin spread his sunkissed face, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You," he announced loudly among the uncharacteristic calm. "Are you the Storyteller I keep hearing of? Those children -- they won't stop speaking of you and your stories!"

The young man laughed. With such an enthusiastic disposition, he bore over the cloaked figure, before crossing his arms. Such a versatile complexion, as well -- he wore a face of many expressions, and was, at first glance, a man of massive hysterics. He was clad in a simple, yet certainly fine, long tunic of a lighter-blue shade; a cloak sat over a shoulder with the assistance of a brooch. His skin was heavily tanned, face freckled generously and curtained by his auburn hair which sat at shoulder-length.

"What whimsy must you possess, to entertain so many of every countenance. Why, I can't find a single presence in my short time residing, that has spoke a word of ill-will towards yourself!"

He cleared his throat, before moving to sit, crossing a leg over another. While rubbing his hands together, the young man continued.

"Since you are such a remarkable storyteller, I, naturally, do not wish to hear one of your stories. Instead, I beseech you to entertain one of my own. You see, I am a traveler, and have encountered oddities large and small. However, the story I am about to tell you is certainly most queer!"

___

A few moons ago I found myself in a quaint little village. I had never attended to such a small settlement of humans -- the community with which these people had was unlike what I had seen! Despite this, I quickly learned what set this quaint little village apart from the others. I came to wonder, after all, why the village smelled so often of sulfur and ash. This was, in due time, revealed to me caused by one little girl.

Could you imagine?

I had the utter dissatisfactory pleasure of meeting this girl. An odd little thing, she was -- and no wonder why she was the outlier of the tight-knit community her fellow had woven. Hair as red as flame itself! Horns stuck out of her head! In fact, at first I was tempted to run the other way. I thought she was the spawn of hell. But quickly she revealed to me a gentle temperament unlike any of the other inhabitants of this quaint village. So why, then, I wondered, had she been the cause of mass arson?

And more importantly, I wondered, why not tried for this crime, accidental or not?

I learned, that oddly enough, her fellow villagers feared her. None claimed her as their own. This sense of alienation -- and her dissimilitude to the humans -- led to a consistent countenance of anguish. It confused me thoroughly!

It was on the second night in this village I truly understood what the matter was, however. I had left my refuge in order to garner wood for the fire the very next day, as a cold front had been settling in. That is when I saw smoke billowing on the horizon. Thick clouds of it! I ran, abandoning my logs, to find none other but the girl there.

In my frenzy to calm her down, I thought none to ask her name. Even more curiously, the girl said she couldn't remember, eyes wide and pleading as she expelled the cause, seemingly by unwilling means, prompting the combustion of a cottage. I took the girl by her garb and dragged her off into the field just on the outskirts of the quaint village, asking her what the matter was all the way. She could not answer me!

I resumed for many hours to inquire of her a variety of questions, all proving fruitless. At some point along in this journey I retired to my bed. My curiosity was not dispelled, however, and I returned every night from then on for an entire moon cycle, meeting this girl.

I recall that one night, the girl sneezed, and sparks flew out of her nose! Weary of a fire to consume, I sought a way to prevent this sparking upon further ailment. The entire night, we did not rest until we found the cure for her flame-engulfed pestilence. How queer, I thought! The buttercup, an unassuming flower, be the remedy to scorching flame? Why, many detest the buttercup in entirety!

Upon discovering the buttercup's use, I promptly sought to gather the girl a surplus of the plant, lest the fire tempt once more. Many of the villagers took notice of this behavior, and were not keen on my gathering of its entirety.

They probed me, "why do you do the biding of the perilous wench? Do you not see the damages she has evoked upon our settlement and people? Once a prosperous lot, now purged at the hands of Prometheus' gift!"

"The girl is by no means perilous," I made way to argue, "just queer. I have discovered that these flowers cure her proclivity to inflict damages. Rest assured, that now with these plants in her possession, her ailment can perhaps be garnered for profit as opposed to destruction."

The villagers pondered this for an exceedingly long time. In fact, it was the night I was set to leave that they came to their decision.

Damnation.

In an irony not lost upon me, they sought to chase the girl out of their quaint village entirely, brandishing torches and pitchforks. No more, they said! They had dealt with enough!

I made haste to the field we made practice at meeting every night. There she stood, quivering, holding her head in her hands. Smoke billowed out of her nostrils in mortification. In a pleading voice, she spoke to me.

"Please! Let me go with you. For you are the only person in the world who has shown me the kindness of man."

Although I seldom travel in company, I could not let the poor girl waste away. Despite her remarkable ability, there was no doubt that her control over them was scarce, and as a result she would likely die in trying to defend herself. Silently, we ran over the hills and into the brushel nearby, sneaking into the thickest portion of the forest before stopping to catch our breath.

Upon meeting absolute silence for a long period of time, we decided to make camp for the night and rest. I, however, was weary of the girl starting a fire in her slumber, and remained watchful as she settled into the ground. Some time had passed, and I in fact thought the girl was asleep. It was at this point she looked up to me, and spoke, perhaps intentionally obfuscating her meaning -- a glint of tired mischief in her eyes.
"Ruby," said the girl. I blinked, and stared down at her for many moments, confused as to what she meant.

"Ruby," she answered, "is my name."

I understood in this moment that this was something she had never shared with a single human soul. And how beautiful it was! To be named after the fiery stone itself. It made the utmost sense to me. I smiled, told her my own, and asked her to go back to sleep. It was this night I learned that gratitude presents itself in the most peculiar ways -- as Ruby had not showered me in adoration, or paid me with gold -- but confided in me the knowledge of her existence in its entirety.

It was, in fact, reassuring. Many moments more, she stared up at me with her wide, nigh animalistic eyes. They were an ambrosial hue, glinting and glimmering. An astonishing hazel...

I'm not sure what happened to Ruby after that. I am inclined to believe that she, in fact, followed me in secrecy to this settlement as well. Although I suppose only time will tell. Perhaps later, when the moon is higher, I will stalk about and look to the darkness for those golden eyes.

They were a lot like your own.

___

The young man winked at the Storyteller, and crossed his arms upon finishing his tale. His own ocean-eyes glanced briefly to the fire, a proud grin riddled on his face.

"And I expect you not to forget it."

A moment of silence passed, before he added with his grin ever-widening,
"My name is Ardour, by the way. You'd surely never forget it, after a story like that!" he laughed boisterously.

A Dime a Dozen -- Investigative Woes

He's unlike anybody I have ever encountered.

He moves like a storm -- unpredictable, chaotic, and impossible to pin down. Most people who try to manipulate me are transparent, and easy enough to see through...

But him?

He acts without restraint. Without fear. It makes him both fascinating... and equally dangerous.

But the fact that he wants me to believe that I'm in a position of power gives it all away. He wants me to think I control the situation. But if he wanted me to believe that... then he wasn't even in control to begin with. His methods are unique, I'll give him that... but even the spontaneous becomes predictable when studied enough.

And I will win this game.

____

Trapped within a web of lies and deceit, a group of local authorities and investigators struggle to solve a case of a string of inexplicable murders. Twisting and turning into something more demented, the group learns that the murderer is likely one of their own -- and begin turning on one another in a twisted mind game.

Things turn from bad to worse when they find themselves miraculously locked within the station.

Was this an admittedly unorthodox, yet benign, investigatory technique?
Or will fewer than arrived walk out once the doors open again?

Find out in this game of trust, betrayal, and manipulation.

____

Role ideas (not really requirements)

Actual police officer 💀
Detective
Sheriff (ooh fancy)
Chief of Police (oooh fancy x2)

(I'm aware these are massively simplified and nigh romanticized lists bear with me that's aside the point.)

Other fancy things I think. Could work.
Dispatcher/telecommunicator
Crime analyst +/ Intelligence analyst
Police aid
Evidence custodian
Records clerk

Ban the User Above You

Banned because now you don't get to know.

LaConranne's Academy

Awesome!

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

642

LaConranne's Academy

Yeah! That sounds awesome, I love that. And you can be a faculty member no problem!

And yeah, hidden potential sounds waaay cooler lol.

LaConranne's Academy

Hey! Sorry I didn’t see this sooner. Thanks for reaching out!

Firstly, I’m glad you noticed that. It does seem a little weird, the way it’s organized, and can be revised if you want -- but was really based on actual studies. I grew up as an identified gifted individual myself and there were five “primary” categories (some of which you see included) of what criterion can be considered in the admittance process of an exceptional child. This doesn’t mean that some don’t overlap anyway.

Intellectual and academic do seem kind of strange to have differently. The way I see it, however, is that academic giftedness is a soft of exceptionality that thrives in classroom-specific procedures. Of course, you need a level of intellect to do that, but bases itself more around having knowledge and applying it. Intellectual giftedness, the way I would describe it, is an individual’s ability to process information, patterns, and understand cues (both structurally and without structure) on a cognitively-advanced level as opposed to peers their age. Think of natural inclination, intuition, and quite simply, wisdom. Not inherently logic, but that’s the way I would describe it.

Creative and artistic are a little harder, and I see where you’re coming from. Essentially, creative inclinations orient themselves more around the “imagination” or the “unique thought processes” that gifted children tend to possess. Their idiosyncratic behaviours and differences in thinking patterns that set them apart: unique perspectives on things that would be hard to come by. Whereas artistic giftedness is quite simply a penchant for, and advanced ability to, create and express various means through artistic modes (writing, music, art, etc.)

Sorry if I’m ranting. Basically, I didn’t just throw things on there willy-nilly, but also kind of did. If you think it should be changed, that can totally happen!

Second, yeah! We totally could. In fact, it would be a lot more interesting that way. I kind of intended it to eventually go down that way -- but moreso with the intention to span beyond what human intelligence is capable of. Death Note style. /j

Eros

Lost and Forgotten: A Mentor's Legacy

Same here I wouldn't mind getting involved with this if it's still warranted