Looks interesting. Is there an overarching story line, or just our own personal world-domination plans?
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Devious, Dangerous and Dastardly [a roleplay for criminal masterminds]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I think it might make more sense if I wait to let you guys respond to her terms. But I'll be working on it so I can have the info up quickly. : )
I'll wait for the other's in the room to give their reactions to the vampire joining before posting anything
So...should I wait to give them information?
Well. Gray is feeling incredibly welcome. He might have to go for some air to relieve himself from all those warm feelings.
Gray is Kaori's favorite. Just in a dark, twisty way. The best way, really.
Also, I'll work on something today. Just trying to figure out what information to give the group.
Once the discussion had finally fell silent, Kaori lowered her eyes, contemplating. Voices had come at her from each side. Minus a few threats that she didn't respond well to, she couldn't deny the logic of the arguments that came from Gray, the nameless brunette, and the one whom she had come to identify as the lycan. Well, all but that last bit he had so cattily thrown in.
Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they?
And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way.
She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has."
Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it.
"You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds.
"First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower."
She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?"
Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they?
And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way.
She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has."
Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it.
"You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds.
"First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower."
She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?"
Loved it. Will have something up soon.
I'll wait then. : )
Should I wait to add in another post? I want to give others a chance to add things if they want to.
I thought of Donatella Versace and what she'd do with magic. Such as fixing that botched plastic surgery...at any cost.
That is actually frightening. :c
Edit: Also, I freaking love writing for a vampire. I was worried initially that she was gonna be super cliche, but they're such sensory creatures! Theres so much to work with!
Just thought I would share my excitement. :3
It was always an unusual experience when a vampire’s prey was left standing. When they died, it was simple. They ceased to be, and all of their life became your own. However, when they lived on, the connection between a vampire and her prey could become...complex. On occasion, downright supernatural. It all depended on the strength of the individual bond. There would often be some sort of emotional connection, or fixation that spawned out of the personal feelings of the vampire herself. A mild attraction to a prey could become full-blown infatuation. Such situations usually ended in destruction.
For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way.
So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive.
"Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat.
"This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?"
By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there?
In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.
For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way.
So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive.
"Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat.
"This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?"
By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there?
In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.
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