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FrankenDaughter Member
Land Child
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 7 yrs ago
- Posts: 209 (0.08 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- FrankenDaughter 7 yrs ago
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AlteredTundra
Status
Recent Statuses
5 yrs ago
69
2
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5 yrs ago
@LetsFly I'm still big gay. Found a poetry circle in my city so cool I might not do RPs for a while.
5 yrs ago
Letty, my mood is all Cacedas and gose. What's your mood?
5 yrs ago
Yikes Crew Stands for LeeRoy, he most in denial.
2
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6 yrs ago
@Poo How are mods selected? I don't even know.
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Bio
I have been roleplaying for fifteen years through various formats from at the dinner table to PbP to RTC. I strongly prefer for mechanics to drive narrative in live roleplay sessions, but in PbP and RTC I'm creative enough that I prefer for creativity to drive narrative instead. To that end, you will probably never talk me into the tabletop subforum, and I can't imagine being dragged easily into Arena or Nation roleplays either.
Preferred size: Anything not exceeding 10 players. I've engaged in very chaotic and bloated playercounts for PbP before and am not eager to engage in that level of discord in the near future.
Preferred genres: Anything. I often enjoy having the opportunity to genre clash, a thing you will notice with my practice work in Expanding Horizons.
Preferred roles: I do not have the patience to build and maintain attractive hub posts for roleplays, which to me is a valuable skill... in GMs. I have co-GM'd in the past both officially and unofficially, and would be happy to do so again.
Quality standards: Any, though I do prefer to interact with players that have a firm understanding of english grammar.
Play Status: Seeking group RPs. Solicitations welcome. 1x1s considered on request, not guaranteed.
---Participant in Allaria: Chapter 5 ARP
---Found regularly practicing on Expanding Horizons PWRP
Preferred size: Anything not exceeding 10 players. I've engaged in very chaotic and bloated playercounts for PbP before and am not eager to engage in that level of discord in the near future.
Preferred genres: Anything. I often enjoy having the opportunity to genre clash, a thing you will notice with my practice work in Expanding Horizons.
Preferred roles: I do not have the patience to build and maintain attractive hub posts for roleplays, which to me is a valuable skill... in GMs. I have co-GM'd in the past both officially and unofficially, and would be happy to do so again.
Quality standards: Any, though I do prefer to interact with players that have a firm understanding of english grammar.
Play Status: Seeking group RPs. Solicitations welcome. 1x1s considered on request, not guaranteed.
---Participant in Allaria: Chapter 5 ARP
---Found regularly practicing on Expanding Horizons PWRP
Most Recent Posts
@Zarkun
Akagalcia burst into laughter at that, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her belly.
"A shock, yes. I think I lived longer in that place than I did on my motherworld, with only my teacher for company." She has another sip of rice milk, her movements swaying like silk. Clearly her drink was finally having some effect on her. "It is a thing that wants to teach people like me who we are so that we don't hurt ourselves. It teaches us to sense things as they are." She held up her hand, raising fingers to count, "To acclimate. To interpret. To subvert. To separate. To open."
She dropped her fingers, lowering her hand to take a final piece of meat from her bowl and ate, letting her words sink in before she continued.
"In some words, my difficulties are because I exist differently to everything around me. In others, everything I do and become exists differently to who and what I am. The pain is in having to understand and become what I am not, while remaining what I am. Fhaelne--uhm... working paradox? So... no. I am not from Koprulu, and no sort of near or far that I am is relative to it. But I am here. As far as I know, this planet is where I will be from... have been from?" Her face screwed up in another frustrated scowl. "...where my being has to have been before?"
Akagalcia laughed again, frustration giving way to resignation. "Culture shock. Accurate."
Akagalcia burst into laughter at that, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her belly.
"A shock, yes. I think I lived longer in that place than I did on my motherworld, with only my teacher for company." She has another sip of rice milk, her movements swaying like silk. Clearly her drink was finally having some effect on her. "It is a thing that wants to teach people like me who we are so that we don't hurt ourselves. It teaches us to sense things as they are." She held up her hand, raising fingers to count, "To acclimate. To interpret. To subvert. To separate. To open."
She dropped her fingers, lowering her hand to take a final piece of meat from her bowl and ate, letting her words sink in before she continued.
"In some words, my difficulties are because I exist differently to everything around me. In others, everything I do and become exists differently to who and what I am. The pain is in having to understand and become what I am not, while remaining what I am. Fhaelne--uhm... working paradox? So... no. I am not from Koprulu, and no sort of near or far that I am is relative to it. But I am here. As far as I know, this planet is where I will be from... have been from?" Her face screwed up in another frustrated scowl. "...where my being has to have been before?"
Akagalcia laughed again, frustration giving way to resignation. "Culture shock. Accurate."
Rocky Hardwing
The strand of hair is there in case Rave wants to share thoughts again
The two of them ate in silence for a while. Akagalcia searching again for words. Rave could even hear some of them from her mind, each syllable urgent, but none of them intelligable. The storm softened after a few moments, then the tension he could feel from her mind grew silent. Akagalcia refilled her mug and scooped another handful of meat and vegetables, plucking again. She almost seemed to be waiting for something, as if paying attention to other things gave her a clearer view of him somehow.
"What precisely happened to you when you were left here to change things so much for you?" He asked. Just why was she trying so hard to seem as though she was ignoring him? It...
...he could still feel her pain, somehow. It was a sudden realization, and the moment it occured to Rave he found Akagalcia was looking at him intently and nodding. She knew.
It was there, tiny, a part of her even though Rave had closed all foreign thoughts away. It was like running one's fingers through one's own hair in the mirror and finding a single strand of a different color, or crossing each set of fingers together and tracing their tips over one another and feeling as though each was out of place. Tugging at the single strand of hair--the sliver of foreignness in his mind--felt so simple. But pulling only made the strand longer... only caused the sensation to grow... and a single tug seemed to pull on an ocean that crashed into him. Gentle. Impossible to ignore.
He smelled burning flesh and rose-stink and cold metal. Rave tried to open his eyes, and slivers of light pierced the darkness. He tried again, and there was an audible 'pop' as his eyelids shot open, crust falling across his cheeks. These were the first sights and sensations, and they came into his consciousness as though he had never seen or felt or heard anything before. His cheeks must've been burned terribly for fairy dust to feel so coarse. His ears had to be recently damaged somehow for the tiny scraps to make such a racket.
He was lying flat on his back looking up at pure blackness... but there was a light to it. It was the brightest black that black could be... but it was only black. He made to reach his hand, but just the impression of trying to move sent agony through his body. Reflexively, as though the pain was coming from outside, he curled into a fetal position, bringing his knees to eye level... his burned, scraped knees. Every single part of him felt as though it had been split open somehow. He shook his head and closed his eyes, fighting a sudden overpowering urge to wretch from the pain... and nothing was there.
He was empty. It was so hard to remember... what wretching was. He opened his eyes, looking at the skin on his knees... perfect... untouched. But why did everything hurt so terribly?
<Because this is not our reality... but it is real.>
Whose voice was that? It came from everywhere, like his skin was shouting it, like his eyes were opening up to speak, like the blackness that surrounded him was roaring. The blackness... the black...
<You pulled too hard... it is a very large part of me, I could've guided your hand I guess...>
Guided him? What was the... pulled?
And he did wretch, vomiting his serial number tumbling into his lap, jagged script that cut into his skin. It felt so--
Rave was sitting in his chair, still chewing on his last bite of burger. He didn't even feel the impulse to hesitate--the need to recover from what he'd just been. It was as though Akagalcia had left behind comforting thoughts. She had. There were scraps of warmth... raw, and pulled from within. Empty, but supportive. And not a moment had passed between when he had found the strand in his mind and now. He could still feel the strand, even... the little grain of thought. Those warm little cotton thoughts were all mounded into one neat blanket over the strand. They could do nothing to hide it, but at least he didn't feel the pain like some tickling underfoot that he could never scratch.
And Akagalcia watched him, chewing on another scrap of food... waiting.
"That is... the short version?" it was obviously a question, as though Akagalcia were trying a phrase she'd only just learned about in recent memory.
"What precisely happened to you when you were left here to change things so much for you?" He asked. Just why was she trying so hard to seem as though she was ignoring him? It...
...he could still feel her pain, somehow. It was a sudden realization, and the moment it occured to Rave he found Akagalcia was looking at him intently and nodding. She knew.
It was there, tiny, a part of her even though Rave had closed all foreign thoughts away. It was like running one's fingers through one's own hair in the mirror and finding a single strand of a different color, or crossing each set of fingers together and tracing their tips over one another and feeling as though each was out of place. Tugging at the single strand of hair--the sliver of foreignness in his mind--felt so simple. But pulling only made the strand longer... only caused the sensation to grow... and a single tug seemed to pull on an ocean that crashed into him. Gentle. Impossible to ignore.
 |
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He smelled burning flesh and rose-stink and cold metal. Rave tried to open his eyes, and slivers of light pierced the darkness. He tried again, and there was an audible 'pop' as his eyelids shot open, crust falling across his cheeks. These were the first sights and sensations, and they came into his consciousness as though he had never seen or felt or heard anything before. His cheeks must've been burned terribly for fairy dust to feel so coarse. His ears had to be recently damaged somehow for the tiny scraps to make such a racket.
He was lying flat on his back looking up at pure blackness... but there was a light to it. It was the brightest black that black could be... but it was only black. He made to reach his hand, but just the impression of trying to move sent agony through his body. Reflexively, as though the pain was coming from outside, he curled into a fetal position, bringing his knees to eye level... his burned, scraped knees. Every single part of him felt as though it had been split open somehow. He shook his head and closed his eyes, fighting a sudden overpowering urge to wretch from the pain... and nothing was there.
He was empty. It was so hard to remember... what wretching was. He opened his eyes, looking at the skin on his knees... perfect... untouched. But why did everything hurt so terribly?
<Because this is not our reality... but it is real.>
Whose voice was that? It came from everywhere, like his skin was shouting it, like his eyes were opening up to speak, like the blackness that surrounded him was roaring. The blackness... the black...
<You pulled too hard... it is a very large part of me, I could've guided your hand I guess...>
Guided him? What was the... pulled?
And he did wretch, vomiting his serial number tumbling into his lap, jagged script that cut into his skin. It felt so--
|
|---|
Rave was sitting in his chair, still chewing on his last bite of burger. He didn't even feel the impulse to hesitate--the need to recover from what he'd just been. It was as though Akagalcia had left behind comforting thoughts. She had. There were scraps of warmth... raw, and pulled from within. Empty, but supportive. And not a moment had passed between when he had found the strand in his mind and now. He could still feel the strand, even... the little grain of thought. Those warm little cotton thoughts were all mounded into one neat blanket over the strand. They could do nothing to hide it, but at least he didn't feel the pain like some tickling underfoot that he could never scratch.
And Akagalcia watched him, chewing on another scrap of food... waiting.
"That is... the short version?" it was obviously a question, as though Akagalcia were trying a phrase she'd only just learned about in recent memory.
@Zarkun
She would essentially be pulling him in and I'd be writing a mental mystery tour for him.
May I?
She would essentially be pulling him in and I'd be writing a mental mystery tour for him.
May I?
555
@Zarkun
Fair warning: if Rave responds inquisitively to Akagalcia's invitation this will become a much more significant scene. From the outside looking in, Rave will be able to see a much clearer picture of what Akagalcia is going through than she sees. It will be fun (probably?) to write, but I don't want to take any unearned liberties in the next several posts showing Rave what's in Akagalcia's head.
Fair warning: if Rave responds inquisitively to Akagalcia's invitation this will become a much more significant scene. From the outside looking in, Rave will be able to see a much clearer picture of what Akagalcia is going through than she sees. It will be fun (probably?) to write, but I don't want to take any unearned liberties in the next several posts showing Rave what's in Akagalcia's head.
@Zarkun
Akagalcia stopped chewing, watching as he borrowed again. She could only smell it before, but now with a bit of drink it sent tingles all over her skin. She fought the urge to hug herself and press the sensation away, squinting at her own revulsion. Compose... acclimate. Soot and shadow, even borrowing felt different. Why did it have to feel so painful? She opened her eyes, looking up at Rave with concern. <Doesn't that cause you pain? It's so hard to flex and reach...> "...everything I do seems to hurt just a little. A strange pain, like a stitch in my side." She flicked held up her free hand, snapping her fingers to leave a cluster of orange embers on her thumb...
...and with it, the pain. Not from the heat. She could fold the heat in on itself. It was the collection of heat, and the sustaining of it. Just holding the field was an effort. She winced again and Rave could if he thought about it experience the exact pain she was feeling. It was like a beacon showing up out of the corner of his eye. As though the body of her mind were somehow pressing against his, trying to draw his attention.
Akagalcia stopped chewing, watching as he borrowed again. She could only smell it before, but now with a bit of drink it sent tingles all over her skin. She fought the urge to hug herself and press the sensation away, squinting at her own revulsion. Compose... acclimate. Soot and shadow, even borrowing felt different. Why did it have to feel so painful? She opened her eyes, looking up at Rave with concern. <Doesn't that cause you pain? It's so hard to flex and reach...> "...everything I do seems to hurt just a little. A strange pain, like a stitch in my side." She flicked held up her free hand, snapping her fingers to leave a cluster of orange embers on her thumb...
...and with it, the pain. Not from the heat. She could fold the heat in on itself. It was the collection of heat, and the sustaining of it. Just holding the field was an effort. She winced again and Rave could if he thought about it experience the exact pain she was feeling. It was like a beacon showing up out of the corner of his eye. As though the body of her mind were somehow pressing against his, trying to draw his attention.
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