Prosaic
StarBoi
SkaiI'll be gone until, likely, Sunday evening. If anything happens and neither myself nor Buried are around; panic.
Marx
Member
The number you have dialed has been disconnected.
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Will I ever come back? Maybe! Probably not! Who knows!
Most Recent Posts
Poor Carson. He could really use a hug. DELTA SHOULD GIVE HIM A SUPER HUG.
I mean, the components that make up a computer may as well run on magic to me, so that sounds totally reasonable. Huzzah, Corrosive's back!
Alright, so now the following players' characters have been suspended:
Warm Regret
Gnome Johnson
Voidself
From this point until they reclaim them, their characters are NPCs which Buried and I will decide the fates of.
Warm Regret
Gnome Johnson
Voidself
From this point until they reclaim them, their characters are NPCs which Buried and I will decide the fates of.
It was open. Again. Epsilon hissed, grabbing as his oozing wound, the stitching having sagged open near the center. Right at the point where he had gotten lazy. "I'm going to need Sayuri to take care of this," he spat, stumbling through his cluttered and near black room, tripping over a chair and nearly ending up opening his wound all the way when the loose stitching snagged on the edge of metal cabinet. "Christ. Shit fucking Christ." Epsilon only paused to grab a plastic cup on the table which would be the subject of his new rage. The cup sailed through the air, clattering against one of the metal shelves that lined the opposite side of his room, knocking something else down with it as it fell to the floor.
Epsilon stopped before an open box of medical supplies, is fists balled up at the sight before him. Out of gauze. Out of whisky. Our of bandages. Even out of fucking rags. He threw the box from the desk, the metallic box clattering on the floor and slamming into the wall. Epsilon dropped into the floor, spilling out of a dark corner by the supply room. He would have jumped directly into the supply room, but in his current state he didn't have the energy to see precisely why there were no particularly large shadows in the typically blacked out room. Someone must have left the light on. He'd deal with them later. When he was able to lay down more of a verbal smack down. Epsilon paused outside of the door, noticing the warmth. "Huh," He mumbled, putting the back of his hand on the door. The solid iron door was warm to the touch, usually it was cold like ice. This could be bad.
He opened the door and before him stood a certain girl with raven black hair streaked with sanguine. A girl standing before a puddle of magma. A puddle of magma in the center of the fucking supplies room. "Oh, you," Epsilon snarled, the edges of his lips peeling back as his pupils seemed to expand until the whites of his eyes were as black as obsidian. His skin crawled in shade and his body twisted and writhed in a wretched form, black as a moonless night, an emaciated body covered in wicked spines and tendrils that took shape faster than either of them could snap a finger. "You're dead."
Epsilon stopped before an open box of medical supplies, is fists balled up at the sight before him. Out of gauze. Out of whisky. Our of bandages. Even out of fucking rags. He threw the box from the desk, the metallic box clattering on the floor and slamming into the wall. Epsilon dropped into the floor, spilling out of a dark corner by the supply room. He would have jumped directly into the supply room, but in his current state he didn't have the energy to see precisely why there were no particularly large shadows in the typically blacked out room. Someone must have left the light on. He'd deal with them later. When he was able to lay down more of a verbal smack down. Epsilon paused outside of the door, noticing the warmth. "Huh," He mumbled, putting the back of his hand on the door. The solid iron door was warm to the touch, usually it was cold like ice. This could be bad.
He opened the door and before him stood a certain girl with raven black hair streaked with sanguine. A girl standing before a puddle of magma. A puddle of magma in the center of the fucking supplies room. "Oh, you," Epsilon snarled, the edges of his lips peeling back as his pupils seemed to expand until the whites of his eyes were as black as obsidian. His skin crawled in shade and his body twisted and writhed in a wretched form, black as a moonless night, an emaciated body covered in wicked spines and tendrils that took shape faster than either of them could snap a finger. "You're dead."
You're welcome to come berate me in the PiratePad while I type up a post.
WHOAMI?
It's still today in my time!
It's still today in my time!
Hey creatures; Extremely busy and stressful week. Tomorrow I aim to put out a post. I'll also officially be declaring who is going to have their characters suspended as well.
Cheers, dearies.
Cheers, dearies.
Being that there are currently only three of us; That leaves it to be your turn then! If you'd like, I can whip up a post for you to build off of though.
@RainbowReindeer
Since Rainbow didn't make mention of it, they will not be a part of this RP until come October according to their Bio, assuming they're still interested in being involved in this RP of course.
Everyone else just... hasn't been on haha.
Since Rainbow didn't make mention of it, they will not be a part of this RP until come October according to their Bio, assuming they're still interested in being involved in this RP of course.
Everyone else just... hasn't been on haha.
© 2007-2024