>[X] Craft Mud Brick
Kassarock Member
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- Old Guild Username: kassarock
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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Mahz finally picked up the milk.
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Bio
K A S S A R O C K | 29 | M | GMT |
|---|---|
| Greetings friends, partners, enemies, acquaintances, and strangers. I am Kassarock, or just Kass if you prefer, welcome to my profile. Anyway, I am a 20 something male roleplayer from the UK and a long time user of the site, although I have come and gone a fair bit over my time here. I used to be more active on the old site, and I still am relatively active in the off topic sections today, as well as in the guild's discord. So you might see me around. I generally consider myself to be an advanced writer, I pretty much always write multiple paragraphs, and will drop walls of text if the mood takes me. My grammar is okay, but not formally perfect, so I do not expect that from my partners either. I normally like quite dark and dramatic themes in terms of content in my roleplays, regardless of genre. Unless I have got an interest check up, or have messaged you, I am not usually looking for new partners to write with. I think that covers just about everything. Message me if you want to know more. | Original Join Date: 07/04/2009 Advanced, Casual, 1x1, Nation, Tabletop Historical, Fantasy, Sci-fi, Romance, Drama Writer, Archaeologist, Cymro .............................................................................................................. |
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Hey Emma, good to see you back!
>[X] Forage for Food
Eli Redgrave
"Guys, I think you'll find I am the friendly one. Unlike the gossips and outright liars I find myself surrounded by! Eli pointed at Violet and Ben respectively as he feigned mock outrage and rolled his eyes. He was only joking, but there was some truth to it in his eyes, especially in Violet's case. Repeating rumours of someone you hadn't even met yet? That was hardly friendly in Eli's eyes, he knew the destructive power that rumours held, especially in a small town like Westcliffe. He was still dealing with plenty of his own.
The other things she said hurt as well, 'come out from that rock you live under', like Violet understood how someone like him lived. Miss Violet DeWinter, heir to the rich and powerful DeWinter dynasty, who had every want and need catered for since she was just a child. Immaculately dressed, expensive coffee in hand. In that moment he hated her. Hated everything her and the DeWinters stood for. Even though they were supposed to be 'friends'.
Breathe.
He didn't want to make a scene, like he had he the early days when Alex had disappeared. He didn't want to let them know it got to him. He didn't want to seem weak. He was fine by himself, he was just fine.
There was an awkward lull in the conversation after Violet called the new girl, Denise over. Ben's chuckle died down, and Violet herself coughed and glanced at Eli. He caught her eye in return, and offered her something of a small, sad smile. When he spoke it was soft, but serious.
"You shouldn't joke about that, Violet."
Interactions: @sassy1085 @bumbles guthrie
>[X] Craft: Mud Brick
I know, I know, just having a little joke.
But I thought apologising was the only condition lol
Aye sorry for the wait, took a me a little time to work out what I wanted to do with this one.
It's strange, the King could not help but think, how she manages to look so meek and timid while she defies me all the same. It was true. The Princess sat there draped in pastel pink and a grey woollen shawl, hardly dressed for battle. In her person, Ozragad could see the nervous tics she possessed, that tendency to fidget, the incessant tapping of her fingers against the table top. She was just a girl practically, a young girl who was clearly, obviously afraid of him.
And yet...
Yet she sat there, with fire in her eyes, and sought conditions from him.
It made him furious of course. He was a King, and she was enemy of him and his people. If Ozragad had gotten his way he would have trampled her and her family beneath the dust of his armies. He was not surprised that it made him angry. Most things had, for a long time now. There was however another feeling deep inside him, a tiny, minute pang of something other than anger. Respect? Perhaps, but no, he didn't think it was that. As the silence held while he waited to hear her condition, it finally dawned on him.
He was glad. By the gods, why was he glad? Ozragad had cause to be glad in some of this, she was agreeing to the marriage, agreeing to the peace after all. But that wasn't the source of his feelings, no, it came from somewhere else. He was glad he had not broken her, that she was not just submitting to him like a docile little lamb. Why was that?
It's because you are ashamed of what you did to her, and you know it to be wrong.
No, it was justified. It was all justified. Anything to make it mean something. Anything to make it all worth something.
Is that how a man should behave to his wife? Is that how you treated your wife?
No.
Would you apologise to her?
I have nothing to apologise for.
Blame the Eorzian's as much as you want, Liveuta's blood is on your hands as-.
"Silence." Ozragad's voice echoed harshly in the high ceilinged stone chamber. He had not intended to speak aloud. His golden eyes frantically searched the room. Had she noticed that he had not meant to? He could see Manawyndan arch an eyebrow from the back on the room. The King coughed into his hand and attempted to recover his composure. "I have heard more than enough."
The King rose from his seat and stalked over the stone flagged floor to one of the high narrow windows that threw long line of dim twilight across the room. He stared out at the ghostly city and his own ghost haunted palace. You do it all for them. You have to make it worth something for them. He had been ready to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war. He had been ready to commit murders and atrocities in order to get what he wanted. And now all that stood in the way was one little apology? Well, one little apology and his pride of course.
"Ahem, perhaps you wish time to reflect, sire?" It was Manawyndan who spoke first. There was that wheedling edge of the old man's words. As soon as the Princess left this room he would be trying to convince him to just apologise, through gritted teeth and lies if necessary.
"No need. I have come to my decision." Ozragad turned from the window and faced the inhabitants of the room once again. There was spark in his eyes. Slowly, he approached the table once more, but he did not walk towards his own seat. He walked towards where the Princess, Elise Hydaelyn, sat at the other end of the dark polished surface.
"I want you to know something." He began in a low husky tone, as he approached her chair. "Everything I said that day? I stand by it all. I was completely sincere. There are only two options before you, marrying me and peace, or defying me and the bloodiest war our countries have ever seen. I will not apologise for that." By now the King was standing directly behind her chair, he rested his hands on either side of it.
"But you are not a warrior, and that was not a battlefield. My conduct was not that of a man to his bride-to-be, the conduct of a man to his wife." He stepped to the side of her chair, and knelt on one knee. Their difference in height meant that their eyes were almost at a level - cool blue and burning gold. "When I raised my hands against you, I shamed myself. I am, or at least I once was, a better man than that. So for that I can, and will, apologise."
And yet...
Yet she sat there, with fire in her eyes, and sought conditions from him.
It made him furious of course. He was a King, and she was enemy of him and his people. If Ozragad had gotten his way he would have trampled her and her family beneath the dust of his armies. He was not surprised that it made him angry. Most things had, for a long time now. There was however another feeling deep inside him, a tiny, minute pang of something other than anger. Respect? Perhaps, but no, he didn't think it was that. As the silence held while he waited to hear her condition, it finally dawned on him.
He was glad. By the gods, why was he glad? Ozragad had cause to be glad in some of this, she was agreeing to the marriage, agreeing to the peace after all. But that wasn't the source of his feelings, no, it came from somewhere else. He was glad he had not broken her, that she was not just submitting to him like a docile little lamb. Why was that?
It's because you are ashamed of what you did to her, and you know it to be wrong.
No, it was justified. It was all justified. Anything to make it mean something. Anything to make it all worth something.
Is that how a man should behave to his wife? Is that how you treated your wife?
No.
Would you apologise to her?
I have nothing to apologise for.
Blame the Eorzian's as much as you want, Liveuta's blood is on your hands as-.
"Silence." Ozragad's voice echoed harshly in the high ceilinged stone chamber. He had not intended to speak aloud. His golden eyes frantically searched the room. Had she noticed that he had not meant to? He could see Manawyndan arch an eyebrow from the back on the room. The King coughed into his hand and attempted to recover his composure. "I have heard more than enough."
The King rose from his seat and stalked over the stone flagged floor to one of the high narrow windows that threw long line of dim twilight across the room. He stared out at the ghostly city and his own ghost haunted palace. You do it all for them. You have to make it worth something for them. He had been ready to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war. He had been ready to commit murders and atrocities in order to get what he wanted. And now all that stood in the way was one little apology? Well, one little apology and his pride of course.
"Ahem, perhaps you wish time to reflect, sire?" It was Manawyndan who spoke first. There was that wheedling edge of the old man's words. As soon as the Princess left this room he would be trying to convince him to just apologise, through gritted teeth and lies if necessary.
"No need. I have come to my decision." Ozragad turned from the window and faced the inhabitants of the room once again. There was spark in his eyes. Slowly, he approached the table once more, but he did not walk towards his own seat. He walked towards where the Princess, Elise Hydaelyn, sat at the other end of the dark polished surface.
"I want you to know something." He began in a low husky tone, as he approached her chair. "Everything I said that day? I stand by it all. I was completely sincere. There are only two options before you, marrying me and peace, or defying me and the bloodiest war our countries have ever seen. I will not apologise for that." By now the King was standing directly behind her chair, he rested his hands on either side of it.
"But you are not a warrior, and that was not a battlefield. My conduct was not that of a man to his bride-to-be, the conduct of a man to his wife." He stepped to the side of her chair, and knelt on one knee. Their difference in height meant that their eyes were almost at a level - cool blue and burning gold. "When I raised my hands against you, I shamed myself. I am, or at least I once was, a better man than that. So for that I can, and will, apologise."
The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives
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