@vietmyke When will your post be up?
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mathematicalmusical.tumblr.c..
10 yrs ago
The word nun looks like an n doing a backflip
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10 yrs ago
So sick of the disrespect people have for the people who protect our country... just because there are a few corrupt names does not mean that the entirety of the force is full of bumbling fools.
10 yrs ago
Who wants to see a youtube miniseries, a modernization of Le Fantome de l'Opera that takes place in an all-girls' conservatory?
10 yrs ago
Sleep is like a cat, it only comes to you if you ignore it.
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Most Recent Posts
Still here, if a bit impatient. Congrats on the new job, vietmyke!
So... anyone else going to post? It'd be a tad awkward for me to post so soon, though it has been at least a week. Can we please keep this going? Guys?
@Free Faller@Nevermind Hey guys, can you go ahead and post, or let us know if you're no longer interested in the group? We'd really like to kick things off...
Elya watched the young squire as he followed the other boy, and another as of yet unidentified girl to an overturned wagon. Uninterested in the lot, she wondered why they were not steering clear of it, as such matters were the job of guardsmen, and more capable adults. That squire, though, seemed slightly familiar. She raised her hood again, to cover her head, hoping the squire had never come close enough to be able to recognize her face. Any thought of the issue of identity, or her pride and humility, escaped from her mind, though, as she saw the squire racing back towards his horse. The color drained from her face, as she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. The sight which met her eyes matched the shout of the young squire. Orcs.
Before her thoughts could register, before she had a chance to react, Elya's line of sight was blocked by the approaching Odran Tarus. Her hand rose to her chest, as if to verify that her little scroll was still tucked safely into her bodice. The paper was still there, flimsy, but there. The rough knight noticed, but disregarded this little action. When he spoke, Odran's gruff voice was soft enough only to reach the ears of the young princess. "Your Grace, this way." She noticed his hand, resting casually on the hilt of his blade, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Her own hand, she realized, had dropped from her chest to grip the hilt of her sword, still hidden in its camouflaged sheath.
The knight led Elya from the crowded caravan, both maneuvering their horses away from the group. Following him, Elya wondered what was in the overturned wagon on the other side of the people, and what was happening to the two who had been standing by it. With another glance over her shoulder, she saw the orcs and goblins coming closer. Having never seen one in person, she reckoned that they were much larger than she had imagined, from what she could discern by the pictures she had seen in her books. Her eyes fixated on the guards abandoning their respective wagons to fight the coming monsters. She did not realize she had slowed her horse until a grunt from Odran brought her attention back.
Elya found that they were now a few spans ahead of the fallen wagon on the path, barely hidden from the view of both the caravan, and the orcs and goblins. Under the cover of scattered rocks, and trees lacking any leaves on their branches, her brown horse seemed as if she would blend into the scenery, from a distance anyways. Odran turned back to face Elya, a stern look on his already stone-like face. If rock could be said to seem foreboding, such was the expression he wore. Realizing she had been unconscious of her own face, her mouth having been gaping open, she snapped her jaw shut, to try to match Odran's eyes. "My Lady, stay here. We cannot risk- I don't need to explain what you already know. Stay." He added a respectful 'Your Grace' following that final command, before riding back toward the main caravan, to join the other guardsmen against the orcs. His sword flew from its sheath in his hand, gracefully, without a sound, as his horse galloped towards the approaching beasts.
Unhappy with the command she had been given, discontent to simply sit there doing nothing, Elya still waited. She recognized the danger, and realized the uselessness of her doing anything stupid to prove a point. Instead of moving to fight, to disobey the command given to her by her temporary protector, she elected to think. The orcs had come out from the treeline, though her head was swimming from fear so much, throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat, she had lost all sense of direction, except to know that they were on their way North. A thought occurred to her, but she shoved it out of her mind as soon as it entered- Did they in fact come from the South? If so, had they passed through the capitol?
Shaking her head, Elya drew her sword out from its sheath. The small blade might not be considered more than a dagger by those who were experienced with broadswords and the like, but in her equally small hands, it seemed suitable. Slightly curved, with only one edge sharpened, it was unlike any swords a knight might carry. Its shape resembled a thorn more than anything else- hence its name. Holding it in her hands, running her thumb along the dulled edge, Elya felt a sense of control. With a weapon, she had something other than another person's will to protect herself.
Eyes averted from the scene ahead, Elya imagined a flame in her mind. Selecting all of her fears, and doubts, and worries, everything that might hinder her, she fed each fleeting thought into the flame, until it grew into a great fire. Without the kindling left, though, the fire burned out, leaving behind only ash, and a void of darkness. This emptiness was calming, even if it was forced, and it gave her the courage to look up again, and view the fight for what it was. Her breathing, which had been ragged and quick, slowed to a better pace, clearing her view, as she watched from the shadow in which she hid.
Nimerya, Elya's horse, seemed antsy, her hoofs brushing the ground hesitantly, kicking up dust and dirt distractedly. Absent minded, not paying any heed to Nimerya's actions, Elya sheathed her sword again, but kept one hand on the hilt. The other she raised, to stroke her horse's mane. Lips closed, Elya hummed something softly, a song to temporarily pacify her horse, while keeping her aware. Nimerya's muscles tensed, and relaxed, as she calmed. The horse's eyes wandered to the horizon, watching the sky where it met the land, as if expecting someone or something to emerge from the crease between the heavens and the earth.
Before her thoughts could register, before she had a chance to react, Elya's line of sight was blocked by the approaching Odran Tarus. Her hand rose to her chest, as if to verify that her little scroll was still tucked safely into her bodice. The paper was still there, flimsy, but there. The rough knight noticed, but disregarded this little action. When he spoke, Odran's gruff voice was soft enough only to reach the ears of the young princess. "Your Grace, this way." She noticed his hand, resting casually on the hilt of his blade, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Her own hand, she realized, had dropped from her chest to grip the hilt of her sword, still hidden in its camouflaged sheath.
The knight led Elya from the crowded caravan, both maneuvering their horses away from the group. Following him, Elya wondered what was in the overturned wagon on the other side of the people, and what was happening to the two who had been standing by it. With another glance over her shoulder, she saw the orcs and goblins coming closer. Having never seen one in person, she reckoned that they were much larger than she had imagined, from what she could discern by the pictures she had seen in her books. Her eyes fixated on the guards abandoning their respective wagons to fight the coming monsters. She did not realize she had slowed her horse until a grunt from Odran brought her attention back.
Elya found that they were now a few spans ahead of the fallen wagon on the path, barely hidden from the view of both the caravan, and the orcs and goblins. Under the cover of scattered rocks, and trees lacking any leaves on their branches, her brown horse seemed as if she would blend into the scenery, from a distance anyways. Odran turned back to face Elya, a stern look on his already stone-like face. If rock could be said to seem foreboding, such was the expression he wore. Realizing she had been unconscious of her own face, her mouth having been gaping open, she snapped her jaw shut, to try to match Odran's eyes. "My Lady, stay here. We cannot risk- I don't need to explain what you already know. Stay." He added a respectful 'Your Grace' following that final command, before riding back toward the main caravan, to join the other guardsmen against the orcs. His sword flew from its sheath in his hand, gracefully, without a sound, as his horse galloped towards the approaching beasts.
Unhappy with the command she had been given, discontent to simply sit there doing nothing, Elya still waited. She recognized the danger, and realized the uselessness of her doing anything stupid to prove a point. Instead of moving to fight, to disobey the command given to her by her temporary protector, she elected to think. The orcs had come out from the treeline, though her head was swimming from fear so much, throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat, she had lost all sense of direction, except to know that they were on their way North. A thought occurred to her, but she shoved it out of her mind as soon as it entered- Did they in fact come from the South? If so, had they passed through the capitol?
Shaking her head, Elya drew her sword out from its sheath. The small blade might not be considered more than a dagger by those who were experienced with broadswords and the like, but in her equally small hands, it seemed suitable. Slightly curved, with only one edge sharpened, it was unlike any swords a knight might carry. Its shape resembled a thorn more than anything else- hence its name. Holding it in her hands, running her thumb along the dulled edge, Elya felt a sense of control. With a weapon, she had something other than another person's will to protect herself.
Eyes averted from the scene ahead, Elya imagined a flame in her mind. Selecting all of her fears, and doubts, and worries, everything that might hinder her, she fed each fleeting thought into the flame, until it grew into a great fire. Without the kindling left, though, the fire burned out, leaving behind only ash, and a void of darkness. This emptiness was calming, even if it was forced, and it gave her the courage to look up again, and view the fight for what it was. Her breathing, which had been ragged and quick, slowed to a better pace, clearing her view, as she watched from the shadow in which she hid.
Nimerya, Elya's horse, seemed antsy, her hoofs brushing the ground hesitantly, kicking up dust and dirt distractedly. Absent minded, not paying any heed to Nimerya's actions, Elya sheathed her sword again, but kept one hand on the hilt. The other she raised, to stroke her horse's mane. Lips closed, Elya hummed something softly, a song to temporarily pacify her horse, while keeping her aware. Nimerya's muscles tensed, and relaxed, as she calmed. The horse's eyes wandered to the horizon, watching the sky where it met the land, as if expecting someone or something to emerge from the crease between the heavens and the earth.
So... can we get this rp up and going?
A comic about Garnet
"I'm afraid I don't know very much about the agricultural conditions of the northern lands, so any statement I may make will not hold much truth concerning the matter."
Elya smiled apologetically, and shook her head. Being in the presence of someone who had a different set of knowledge which was evidently much more practical than her own was more humbling than she had previously known possible. Why was it that she was taught only that which could be used when she was at a high status, rather than that which was universally regarded as important?
The princess grasped the reins of her horse, squeezing them to prevent herself from cringing from embarrassment. The muscles in her face tensed, her jaw moving slightly to set in a more determined state. Swallowing, Elya felt the awkward dryness of her mouth, and waited a bit before responding, in fear that if she spoke now, her voice might falter in an exposing manner, revealing the lies she spoke. Attempting to search for a new topic of conversation, about which she could speak yet without divulging her identity, Elya came up empty. None of her knowledge was relevant in such a way that a simple peasant might be able to relate. Not even love was universal- to her knowledge, "finding" a partner was not an option. Eventually, suitors would be presented, and then, her father would choose. It was simpler that way. Rarely did a monarch get to pick her or his own mate.
She wanted to speak about the consequences of the newly high concentration of people within the north, and what effects that might have on the social aspects of society, as well as the economy. Would trade flourish, as new things and people were suddenly thrust into an equally foreign environment? Or would segregation arise, and if so, would it be incidentally, or purposefully? Would the statistics of crime rise, and would it be the higher society crime, or that of the lower levels of class? How might the nobles be treated by the people, and would they be accepted for their titles, or reduced to commoners with much wealth to their name? So many questions, and no one to ask, Elya bit her lip, fighting back a sigh of frustration.
"Where's your family, then? Why aren't you traveling with them?"
Family. That was one universal factor. Regardless of any status in society, without a family, one could hardly survive in this harsh world. He had already mentioned a mother and father, so in all likelihood, both were living. Perhaps the boy had some siblings. It was odd, she realized, this older boy traveling alone, for many reasons. Before she could stop herself, and before he could answer her initial question, she blurted out another question.
"Why haven't you been enlisted in the militia?"
As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Elya wished she could fall off of her horse, and roll away. Mortified at the suggestion of the question, that this boy was somehow running away from his duty to his country, or that he had some defining disability, she looked away, back to Mhairi, hoping that the girl from the Wilds could interject with some saving remark. As she glanced at the girl, it suddenly occurred to her that she must be quite lonely, surrounded by strangers from a strange land, traveling to a space just as foreign, with even stranger people. Asking this girl about her family would be an even more ill-placed remark, as there was no telling whether they had survived the attacks from all sides on her country.
Wow, I'm selfish... I thought my story was sad, and they... Blood and ashes, what is wrong with me?
Elya smiled apologetically, and shook her head. Being in the presence of someone who had a different set of knowledge which was evidently much more practical than her own was more humbling than she had previously known possible. Why was it that she was taught only that which could be used when she was at a high status, rather than that which was universally regarded as important?
The princess grasped the reins of her horse, squeezing them to prevent herself from cringing from embarrassment. The muscles in her face tensed, her jaw moving slightly to set in a more determined state. Swallowing, Elya felt the awkward dryness of her mouth, and waited a bit before responding, in fear that if she spoke now, her voice might falter in an exposing manner, revealing the lies she spoke. Attempting to search for a new topic of conversation, about which she could speak yet without divulging her identity, Elya came up empty. None of her knowledge was relevant in such a way that a simple peasant might be able to relate. Not even love was universal- to her knowledge, "finding" a partner was not an option. Eventually, suitors would be presented, and then, her father would choose. It was simpler that way. Rarely did a monarch get to pick her or his own mate.
She wanted to speak about the consequences of the newly high concentration of people within the north, and what effects that might have on the social aspects of society, as well as the economy. Would trade flourish, as new things and people were suddenly thrust into an equally foreign environment? Or would segregation arise, and if so, would it be incidentally, or purposefully? Would the statistics of crime rise, and would it be the higher society crime, or that of the lower levels of class? How might the nobles be treated by the people, and would they be accepted for their titles, or reduced to commoners with much wealth to their name? So many questions, and no one to ask, Elya bit her lip, fighting back a sigh of frustration.
"Where's your family, then? Why aren't you traveling with them?"
Family. That was one universal factor. Regardless of any status in society, without a family, one could hardly survive in this harsh world. He had already mentioned a mother and father, so in all likelihood, both were living. Perhaps the boy had some siblings. It was odd, she realized, this older boy traveling alone, for many reasons. Before she could stop herself, and before he could answer her initial question, she blurted out another question.
"Why haven't you been enlisted in the militia?"
As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Elya wished she could fall off of her horse, and roll away. Mortified at the suggestion of the question, that this boy was somehow running away from his duty to his country, or that he had some defining disability, she looked away, back to Mhairi, hoping that the girl from the Wilds could interject with some saving remark. As she glanced at the girl, it suddenly occurred to her that she must be quite lonely, surrounded by strangers from a strange land, traveling to a space just as foreign, with even stranger people. Asking this girl about her family would be an even more ill-placed remark, as there was no telling whether they had survived the attacks from all sides on her country.
Wow, I'm selfish... I thought my story was sad, and they... Blood and ashes, what is wrong with me?
Droplets of water fell upon the ocean, little disturbances in the calm adding up to a massive number of dimples over the otherwise clear seas' surface. Below the water, no fish, no animals of any kind could be seen- all had taken refuge in the deeper areas of the ocean, finding safety far away from the chaos happening above. Despite the rain, the temperature was incredibly high; not due to the humidity of the falling rain, but due to a contradictory dryness in the air. Half of the raindrops evaporated before reaching the ocean's surface, and the other half scalded with boiling heat. Perhaps that was why, like the fish beneath her boat, Kala Hishen cowered behind a makeshift cover, a roof of sorts of armor and cloth.
A single boat, a scow which clearly had no business being so far out into the ocean, thrashed about over the bubbling waters, was managed timidly by the woman hiding under the roof she had hastily thrown together. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but even then, she could see the comet through her eyelids- a burning red dot in the sky, no doubt the cause of the chaos. Holding tight to the oars in her hands, Kala waited. Her heart pounding, her stomach churning, Kala regretted her decision to take this shortcut, rather than opting for a safer land-based route. It was no matter, now. All that could be done was for her to try to survive.
Knowing that the rain would burn should it touch her skin, Kala decided to get out of it. She wrapped herself in her cloak, tying her scarf over the lower half of her face, and lowering a hood over the top of her head. Letting the makeshift roof of her light armor collapse into the bottom of the boat, she began to row. Now that she had cleared her head, Kala realized she must change directions. Unable to see any stars in the sky, save for the comet, she blindly chose to follow the current of the water, to move out of the storm as quickly as possible. Mustering her strength, she adjusted the sails of the boat, and began to steer as steadily as her shaking hands could.
Shrouded in the darkness of night, and the plummeting curtain of rain, the captain of the lonely boat could only see a few meters before her. Far off, she knew there must be land eventually, yet she could barely see the front and back ends of her boat, let alone any such safety. Her ears were no help, either. All she could hear was the splashing of the rain against the waters, and against her boat, as well as the roaring of the wind rushing by her ears. Grimacing at her relative blindness, Kala closed her eyes, succumbing to the senses she knew might help her the most.
Through the thin cloth cover over her nose and mouth, Kala could still taste the bitter, salty air. As she was no sailor, and had little experience, it took her several minutes before she could make any sense of the information conveyed via nose and tongue. The disturbance of the ocean caused the thick layer of salt in the air, but it was the rain which caused the disturbance to which she paid heed. Honing in her focus, Kala realized the source of the rain.
Having come from a village west of Omashu, Kala knew the area well. Between that city, and Ba Sing Se, she knew the most direct route crossed through the two lakes, through the Serpent's Pass. The western half was a freshwater lake, the eastern half, as it was directly connected to the ocean, saltwater. The biodiversity of the area was incredible, but now, the divide was true. Several tastes were apparent in the rain. Rust. Ash. The softness which was so apparent in freshwater areas. Copper. Combined, these could only mean one thing.
The rust, from the bilges and keels of their ships, the ash, from the burning of whatever was in the water at the time, and the copper from the mist of blood, from creatures and people alike. Kala's eyes teared up, not just due to the brine in the air. The fire nation has taken the Western Lake.
Her parents had been on their way to Ba Sing Se. The most direct path was through the Serpent's Pass. Given the timing of this event, it was highly unlikely that the couple was still alive, unless her uncle had accompanied them. Remembering that the soldier had been sent to Omashu, Kala realized there was no hope. Stone faced, and filled with a new rage, Kala cleared her mind of all thought, and sat down on the small deck of her little boat, eyes still shut.
Though it did not seem like the time or the place to do so, Kala began to meditate. First, she tuned out the tastes and smells coming from all around her. Next, the sounds of the torrential downpour. Finally, the sensations of touch, from the occasional dot of pressure of a raindrop, to the feel of the cotton clothing on her skin. After several moments, she was empty, save for a repeated mantra, the one thing resonating loudly in her mind. The words echoed within her as they might if shouted in a wide cavern.
"Find the Avatar. Find the Avatar. Find the Avatar."
A single boat, a scow which clearly had no business being so far out into the ocean, thrashed about over the bubbling waters, was managed timidly by the woman hiding under the roof she had hastily thrown together. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but even then, she could see the comet through her eyelids- a burning red dot in the sky, no doubt the cause of the chaos. Holding tight to the oars in her hands, Kala waited. Her heart pounding, her stomach churning, Kala regretted her decision to take this shortcut, rather than opting for a safer land-based route. It was no matter, now. All that could be done was for her to try to survive.
Knowing that the rain would burn should it touch her skin, Kala decided to get out of it. She wrapped herself in her cloak, tying her scarf over the lower half of her face, and lowering a hood over the top of her head. Letting the makeshift roof of her light armor collapse into the bottom of the boat, she began to row. Now that she had cleared her head, Kala realized she must change directions. Unable to see any stars in the sky, save for the comet, she blindly chose to follow the current of the water, to move out of the storm as quickly as possible. Mustering her strength, she adjusted the sails of the boat, and began to steer as steadily as her shaking hands could.
Shrouded in the darkness of night, and the plummeting curtain of rain, the captain of the lonely boat could only see a few meters before her. Far off, she knew there must be land eventually, yet she could barely see the front and back ends of her boat, let alone any such safety. Her ears were no help, either. All she could hear was the splashing of the rain against the waters, and against her boat, as well as the roaring of the wind rushing by her ears. Grimacing at her relative blindness, Kala closed her eyes, succumbing to the senses she knew might help her the most.
Through the thin cloth cover over her nose and mouth, Kala could still taste the bitter, salty air. As she was no sailor, and had little experience, it took her several minutes before she could make any sense of the information conveyed via nose and tongue. The disturbance of the ocean caused the thick layer of salt in the air, but it was the rain which caused the disturbance to which she paid heed. Honing in her focus, Kala realized the source of the rain.
Having come from a village west of Omashu, Kala knew the area well. Between that city, and Ba Sing Se, she knew the most direct route crossed through the two lakes, through the Serpent's Pass. The western half was a freshwater lake, the eastern half, as it was directly connected to the ocean, saltwater. The biodiversity of the area was incredible, but now, the divide was true. Several tastes were apparent in the rain. Rust. Ash. The softness which was so apparent in freshwater areas. Copper. Combined, these could only mean one thing.
The rust, from the bilges and keels of their ships, the ash, from the burning of whatever was in the water at the time, and the copper from the mist of blood, from creatures and people alike. Kala's eyes teared up, not just due to the brine in the air. The fire nation has taken the Western Lake.
Her parents had been on their way to Ba Sing Se. The most direct path was through the Serpent's Pass. Given the timing of this event, it was highly unlikely that the couple was still alive, unless her uncle had accompanied them. Remembering that the soldier had been sent to Omashu, Kala realized there was no hope. Stone faced, and filled with a new rage, Kala cleared her mind of all thought, and sat down on the small deck of her little boat, eyes still shut.
Though it did not seem like the time or the place to do so, Kala began to meditate. First, she tuned out the tastes and smells coming from all around her. Next, the sounds of the torrential downpour. Finally, the sensations of touch, from the occasional dot of pressure of a raindrop, to the feel of the cotton clothing on her skin. After several moments, she was empty, save for a repeated mantra, the one thing resonating loudly in her mind. The words echoed within her as they might if shouted in a wide cavern.
"Find the Avatar. Find the Avatar. Find the Avatar."
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