@headintheclouds No rush! I have plenty to worry about on my end.
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pretentious jerk
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@headintheclouds What do you mean? At the end of my post I wrote that the Lord Mayor was going to send for her, because two elven priests are waiting for her there and they want to see her before they uncurse the tree.
So I mean, unless she wants to climb out of a window I assume you'll start with her being brought there by the mayor's aide or a guard or whatever throwaway npc you'd like to make up. I think I described the peaceful, prosperous state of the human city pretty well.
So I mean, unless she wants to climb out of a window I assume you'll start with her being brought there by the mayor's aide or a guard or whatever throwaway npc you'd like to make up. I think I described the peaceful, prosperous state of the human city pretty well.
Thanks. I like being able to visualize my characters. In fact, if anybody wants, I'd happily try my hand at making your characters.
This would be cool. Not sure how possible it'd be for some carnelian guy.
The third bite from the needle this time prompted little more than a frown. It had become genuinely annoying, and no longer off-guard, the sting was negligible. He’d endured far, far worse.
“Theoretically I do,” he replied, watching the tailor girl continue to attempt to distract herself from her crumbling reality with work and stubborn self-reassurance. “The laws of physics demand that I do. It’s been thought by some that your mind simply refuses to behold it.” Sasha rolled his wrist, moving onward from one idea to the next. “Another theory is that we truly don’t have reflections, because we aren’t truly a part of this existence. But that’s rubbish.”
There were plenty of people who would argue with ferocious certainty that Sasha very much existed. Unfortunately, the great majority of them were dead.
Growing tired with his game, Sasha made a swipe to grab Alice’s wrist. He wanted to disable that plucking needle. His hand was cold, and his grip was vice-like.
“More times than you have, I imagine.” If there was one constant to society over the ages (though let’s be honest, there are several), it was tailor shops. He’d visited more tailors for his clothing than any other tradesmen for any other type of ware. Mass produced clothing was a rather recent venture, and Sasha had never had a wife to craft his wardrobe for him.
Well, he had once, but that was eons ago.
“Alice,” he spoke to her directly, stepping off the dais. Perhaps that would realign her with reality. “Alice Lynch.” A name she had never given him, but he’d already known before they’d met. “No matter how you close your eyes or block your ears, you know something is wrong. You must understand by now the coat was a ruse. I need you.”
Sasha tilted his head, conceding to some obligation to clarify pestering him in his thoughts.
“Or rather, first I need to confirm who you are.” He looked her over, up and down. Slight of frame. Certainly seemed Irish enough. “Irish, correct? On your father’s side, isn’t that right?”
“Theoretically I do,” he replied, watching the tailor girl continue to attempt to distract herself from her crumbling reality with work and stubborn self-reassurance. “The laws of physics demand that I do. It’s been thought by some that your mind simply refuses to behold it.” Sasha rolled his wrist, moving onward from one idea to the next. “Another theory is that we truly don’t have reflections, because we aren’t truly a part of this existence. But that’s rubbish.”
There were plenty of people who would argue with ferocious certainty that Sasha very much existed. Unfortunately, the great majority of them were dead.
Growing tired with his game, Sasha made a swipe to grab Alice’s wrist. He wanted to disable that plucking needle. His hand was cold, and his grip was vice-like.
“More times than you have, I imagine.” If there was one constant to society over the ages (though let’s be honest, there are several), it was tailor shops. He’d visited more tailors for his clothing than any other tradesmen for any other type of ware. Mass produced clothing was a rather recent venture, and Sasha had never had a wife to craft his wardrobe for him.
Well, he had once, but that was eons ago.
“Alice,” he spoke to her directly, stepping off the dais. Perhaps that would realign her with reality. “Alice Lynch.” A name she had never given him, but he’d already known before they’d met. “No matter how you close your eyes or block your ears, you know something is wrong. You must understand by now the coat was a ruse. I need you.”
Sasha tilted his head, conceding to some obligation to clarify pestering him in his thoughts.
“Or rather, first I need to confirm who you are.” He looked her over, up and down. Slight of frame. Certainly seemed Irish enough. “Irish, correct? On your father’s side, isn’t that right?”
Finishing up my first post now (sorry I was on a mini vacation), and will post it later tonight or possibly tomorrow morning at the latest, as soon as I make it all nice and edited.
Fortunately the pace seems to accommodate any schedule.
@LadyRunic Sorry, dinner ran long and I got called in early. I'll post in about 12 hrs, but it's the weekend tomorrow!
@LadyRunic Is there any other kind?
I plan to post tonight. Stayed late at work, absolutely exhausted. I'm having some orange juice and going to bed.
I plan to post tonight. Stayed late at work, absolutely exhausted. I'm having some orange juice and going to bed.
Oh yes, I love the compact nature of these threads. They're so organized. Most people won't bother to read them either, but it's good to have kind a public, accessible RP "portfolio".
As Alice circled him, Sasha stood in place and kept watch from the corners of his eyes, only minutely turning his head. He was waiting for the realization to strike her, for that delicious moment when perplexity bloomed into alarm. When something instinctive switched on, regardless of the logic of the situation, and ignited an animal response. There they remained on the precipice, ready to tip over the edge. But she lingered there.
Disbelief. Hm. Well, that happened.
She proceeded with the measuring. When he didn’t immediately spread out his arms, she pricked him with the pin. He jumped at once, and held out his arms if only in astonishment.
“Ah!” He kept his arms held up, finding himself a bit captive by her professional assertiveness alone. “What are you—?”
Alice was pretending nothing was wrong. She went on pulling her tape taut and taking her measurements, as she promised. Perhaps as long as she fulfilled her end of the agreed arrangement, he was perform his and the night would thankfully come to a close. Was that all she was going to do?
Still, he appraisal wasn’t unflattering.
“Well, not surprising the shoulders are too tight,” he muttered, vainly distracted by Alice’s observations. “I had this made in Malaysia. They typically don’t have people in my size.”
Sasha glanced in the mirror, where Alice moved alone. If she didn’t look at it, there was no problem.
How typically human. This was such a symptom of the modern era. It used to afflict only the rich and comfortable, who would preserve the status quo by denying that anything could ever shift the balance, but now the entire Westernized world was rich and happy. At this end of the Industrial Revolution, the humans were beginning to note that they were cooking their world alive.
Yet as long as they pretended it wasn’t happening, surely there was no catastrophe waiting for them on the horizon.
“You’re an odd one, aren’t you? [i]Hey—!” Sasha darted to the side, feeling another pinch on his side. “Do you impale all your customers or just the ones with no reflection?” He rubbed at his waist defensively. “You’ve noticed, I know you have. Are you trying to convince yourself you’re that tired?”
Disbelief. Hm. Well, that happened.
She proceeded with the measuring. When he didn’t immediately spread out his arms, she pricked him with the pin. He jumped at once, and held out his arms if only in astonishment.
“Ah!” He kept his arms held up, finding himself a bit captive by her professional assertiveness alone. “What are you—?”
Alice was pretending nothing was wrong. She went on pulling her tape taut and taking her measurements, as she promised. Perhaps as long as she fulfilled her end of the agreed arrangement, he was perform his and the night would thankfully come to a close. Was that all she was going to do?
Still, he appraisal wasn’t unflattering.
“Well, not surprising the shoulders are too tight,” he muttered, vainly distracted by Alice’s observations. “I had this made in Malaysia. They typically don’t have people in my size.”
Sasha glanced in the mirror, where Alice moved alone. If she didn’t look at it, there was no problem.
How typically human. This was such a symptom of the modern era. It used to afflict only the rich and comfortable, who would preserve the status quo by denying that anything could ever shift the balance, but now the entire Westernized world was rich and happy. At this end of the Industrial Revolution, the humans were beginning to note that they were cooking their world alive.
Yet as long as they pretended it wasn’t happening, surely there was no catastrophe waiting for them on the horizon.
“You’re an odd one, aren’t you? [i]Hey—!” Sasha darted to the side, feeling another pinch on his side. “Do you impale all your customers or just the ones with no reflection?” He rubbed at his waist defensively. “You’ve noticed, I know you have. Are you trying to convince yourself you’re that tired?”
Oh no I meant just make a new character. I started the first post of the RP but she's not responding. I have this entire idea setup and no one to write it with. It can pretty much be anything. Noble lady to a ruthless merceneary to a male prostitute.
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