Oh my gosh! I love Anna already! XD
StarfrostedFox
Member
Craving Creativity
STATUS: I need to stop trying to get back into role-playing right before having a baby. I should know better by now. A lot better, but afraid to start new stories because I keep unintentionally ghosting. 13 days ago
- Last Seen: 13 days ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 631 (0.17 / day)
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Status
Recent Statuses
13 days ago
Current
I need to stop trying to get back into role-playing right before having a baby. I should know better by now. A lot better, but afraid to start new stories because I keep unintentionally ghosting.
3
likes
2 yrs ago
Finally recovered from postpartum depression and ready to get back to being creative! My apologies to anyone I ghosted in my time of trial. I didn't understand what I was doing.
23
likes
5 yrs ago
Yay! I’m finally a mother! And no, I’m not biased. I know my son is the cutest! 💙
19
likes
5 yrs ago
"To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable." ~ John Milton
1
like
7 yrs ago
All good things come to those that wait, pray, have patience, laugh, love, and are not afraid to dance.
3
likes
Bio
Well, you seem to have stumbled across my user profile. I'm assuming you're here for a reason? Perhaps looking for details on this user StarfrostedFox? ... You can just call me Autumn! C:
I have been role-playing off and on for the last 20 or so years, which is surprising to realize, and I find it a relaxing and enjoyable hobby. After an accident that left me blind a little over 15 years ago, I couldn't role-play for quite some time, which was rather devastating. About the time that Apple invented Siri, I was able to get enough money to be able to purchase my very first iPhone. And BAM! The world of role-playing was once again open to me. It has been a long process getting used to dictating stories and I inevitably don't always catch every single mistake, But I have learned a great deal of patience and realize the value of taking things slow and working through my text when something doesn't sound completely right. It was only a couple of years ago that I came across this website and the stories I have had here have taught me a lot about myself. I love to create. Role-playing is one of the only outlets I have for the images in my head. So though I may have a tendency to go through cycles of depression and being antisocial, I always seem to come back in the end.
I love stories involving fantasy, supernatural, adventure, mystery, even romance. There probably isn't a genre out there that I wouldn't give a try before I will say that I don't like it.
My favorite style of role-playing is, hands down, one on one. It helps me feel more involved in the story, gives me a chance to be able to talk with the other person involved in a much more casual way, And more often than not results in a long lasting friend and some of my favorite adventures.
I have a tendency to write on a casual to low Advanced level throughout my stories, the minimum coming out to an average of a couple of paragraphs. I just have so much in my head that I want to get out, I have a hard time writing anything less. Another consequence however is that I can't seem to find a lot of patients with story partners that give me a really short and undetailed response every time. It's discouraging to take the time to write out several detailed paragraphs only to get a sentence in reply. If you're here thinking of asking me to do a story, please keep that in mind.
I do not tolerate swearing, extreme Gore, or sexual content in my stories. Period. Nor do I role-play same gender romantic relationships. That is just not going to happen.
If you made it to the end of this and I haven't scared you off, I think you deserve some virtual cookies. Heck, go get yourself some real cookies. Or donuts. Or pie if that is your preference. It was just me rambling away about myself after all. If you aren't scared off and you were indeed here looking to get a story started, feel free to shoot me a private message. I'm always looking to make new friends and have new adventures.
I have been role-playing off and on for the last 20 or so years, which is surprising to realize, and I find it a relaxing and enjoyable hobby. After an accident that left me blind a little over 15 years ago, I couldn't role-play for quite some time, which was rather devastating. About the time that Apple invented Siri, I was able to get enough money to be able to purchase my very first iPhone. And BAM! The world of role-playing was once again open to me. It has been a long process getting used to dictating stories and I inevitably don't always catch every single mistake, But I have learned a great deal of patience and realize the value of taking things slow and working through my text when something doesn't sound completely right. It was only a couple of years ago that I came across this website and the stories I have had here have taught me a lot about myself. I love to create. Role-playing is one of the only outlets I have for the images in my head. So though I may have a tendency to go through cycles of depression and being antisocial, I always seem to come back in the end.
I love stories involving fantasy, supernatural, adventure, mystery, even romance. There probably isn't a genre out there that I wouldn't give a try before I will say that I don't like it.
My favorite style of role-playing is, hands down, one on one. It helps me feel more involved in the story, gives me a chance to be able to talk with the other person involved in a much more casual way, And more often than not results in a long lasting friend and some of my favorite adventures.
I have a tendency to write on a casual to low Advanced level throughout my stories, the minimum coming out to an average of a couple of paragraphs. I just have so much in my head that I want to get out, I have a hard time writing anything less. Another consequence however is that I can't seem to find a lot of patients with story partners that give me a really short and undetailed response every time. It's discouraging to take the time to write out several detailed paragraphs only to get a sentence in reply. If you're here thinking of asking me to do a story, please keep that in mind.
I do not tolerate swearing, extreme Gore, or sexual content in my stories. Period. Nor do I role-play same gender romantic relationships. That is just not going to happen.
If you made it to the end of this and I haven't scared you off, I think you deserve some virtual cookies. Heck, go get yourself some real cookies. Or donuts. Or pie if that is your preference. It was just me rambling away about myself after all. If you aren't scared off and you were indeed here looking to get a story started, feel free to shoot me a private message. I'm always looking to make new friends and have new adventures.
Most Recent Posts
Her childhood was laid out before her as she drove through familiar streets, passed by buildings that had stood unchanged for who knew how many decades. Cami smiled wistfully at an old wooden carving of a bear in front of the convenience store that she had been so afraid of is a child that she had to have her grandfather walk up and poke it to prove it wouldn't attack her before she would go inside. She wondered if it had always looked so weatherworn, or if it had just been that long since she had seen the thing. Shaking her head, she made her way carefully through the streets and out past the boundaries of the town, instincts guiding her to a familiar gravel road that would lead her to the Scott family farm.
The town wasn't the only thing to look unchanged, she noticed as the two-story woodframe house came into view. The outside was still whitewashed, the from porch adorned with a swinging bench, a scrawny tabby cat even lounged on the railing, tail flicking lazily. Taking a deep breath to calm the sudden pounding of her heart, Camilla parked the truck to the side of the house, cutting the engine. She hesitated for a moment before she pulled out the keys, stuffing them into a pocket before grabbing her purse and hopping out of the cab. She was going to have to get this out-of-the-way one way or the other. Brushing back a piece of her light brown hair that had escaped her braid, Camy fished out one of the boxes in the bed of the truck, cradling it against her stomach before she made her way around to the front of the house and headed up the steps. Balancing the box on one hip, she tested the handle of the front door before retrieving the key, surprised when the knob twisted easily in her hand. The city girl part of her screamed that something was wrong, That someone had broken into the house. She had to fight back the instinct to pull out her cell phone and call the police. "you're not in the big city anymore Cami. Get a grip." She chastised herself. Grandpa had never locked his front door, Not that she could ever remember. Giving her head a shake, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Out of habit, she paused for a moment, calling out. "Hello?"
The town wasn't the only thing to look unchanged, she noticed as the two-story woodframe house came into view. The outside was still whitewashed, the from porch adorned with a swinging bench, a scrawny tabby cat even lounged on the railing, tail flicking lazily. Taking a deep breath to calm the sudden pounding of her heart, Camilla parked the truck to the side of the house, cutting the engine. She hesitated for a moment before she pulled out the keys, stuffing them into a pocket before grabbing her purse and hopping out of the cab. She was going to have to get this out-of-the-way one way or the other. Brushing back a piece of her light brown hair that had escaped her braid, Camy fished out one of the boxes in the bed of the truck, cradling it against her stomach before she made her way around to the front of the house and headed up the steps. Balancing the box on one hip, she tested the handle of the front door before retrieving the key, surprised when the knob twisted easily in her hand. The city girl part of her screamed that something was wrong, That someone had broken into the house. She had to fight back the instinct to pull out her cell phone and call the police. "you're not in the big city anymore Cami. Get a grip." She chastised herself. Grandpa had never locked his front door, Not that she could ever remember. Giving her head a shake, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Out of habit, she paused for a moment, calling out. "Hello?"
Haha! Well then, your wait is over! I hope you enjoy it!
Amidst the hustle of the many compacted bodies, the shouts of students making their way from classrooms and towards the lunch room or trailing towards the parking lot, and the general chaos that was known as lunch break at Benton University, one could hardly take two steps before being jostled by a passerby. The entire ordeal was exciting and breathtaking, or a major headache depending on your viewpoint, even to those who had been attending the school for several years now. The noise level peaked as a group of freshman guys produced a set of speakers they hooked up to their iPod, Blasting music and attempting to spur those nearest into a spontaneous dance party. One of them, a skinny kid with long blonde hair and several piercings, was running into the crowd, forcibly grabbing people and actively trying to get them to start dancing. He had just convinced a group of girls to join the throng when he turned towards his next target, and froze.
Cinead wasn't entirely sure if he was intimidating on purpose. He certainly wasn't trying to be when the young man turned in his direction and then skidded to a stop. Then again, maybe he was trying just a little. He really didn't want to dance. What ever his intentions, the boy quickly recovered and scurried in the opposite direction. Sighing through his nose, Cin calmly walked past the impromptu party, feeling, not for the first time, a little out of place. There were still times when he still didn't feel used to such a multitude of strange faces and colors, humans dominating with their patches of hair above or growing out of pink or brown colored faces, foreign accents rolling off of tongues. That was probably due to the fact that he wasn't human, not in The slightest, though in the sense of the body he currently wore, he was a mid 20s college student in his senior year.
No, he thought quietly as he watched a group of couples bouncing around in a ridiculous dance, he was far from being human. If the crowd around him caught even a glimpse of his true shape, they would be scared witless, Perhaps admitted to a mental institution for the wild stories that would spring up. Dragons weren't something you saw every day after all. Or in his case, ever. He wasn't so foolish or quite so young that he would risk blowing his cover. Human technology and science had advanced so far that his species was constantly in danger of being discovered. That was why so many of them had decided to do their utmost to blend in, adopting human guises and integrating into society quietly and efficiently. That hadn't kept a lot of them from dying out, but it kept the rest of his kind safe. And he wasn't going to ruin it for everyone merely for a few moments of pleasure at watching a herd of freshman run for their lives.
At last escaping from the immediate press of people, Cinead began heading towards the street, intending on making his way to a local sandwich shop for lunch instead of fighting his way through the parking lot. Away from the crowd, his shoulders relaxed somewhat and it became less obvious just how tall he was. It was always an awkward feeling to view himself as a giant among people, but his frame was well above average, even if he had struggled to make his magic give him a less conspicuous shape. It hadn't worked, naturally. Dragon magic was a fickle thing, unhappy to constrict itself into such a strange body. But he made do with what he had. Shrugging his messenger bag into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, he did his best to block out the world for a little while, doing his best to ignore the smells and sounds around him.
Cinead wasn't entirely sure if he was intimidating on purpose. He certainly wasn't trying to be when the young man turned in his direction and then skidded to a stop. Then again, maybe he was trying just a little. He really didn't want to dance. What ever his intentions, the boy quickly recovered and scurried in the opposite direction. Sighing through his nose, Cin calmly walked past the impromptu party, feeling, not for the first time, a little out of place. There were still times when he still didn't feel used to such a multitude of strange faces and colors, humans dominating with their patches of hair above or growing out of pink or brown colored faces, foreign accents rolling off of tongues. That was probably due to the fact that he wasn't human, not in The slightest, though in the sense of the body he currently wore, he was a mid 20s college student in his senior year.
No, he thought quietly as he watched a group of couples bouncing around in a ridiculous dance, he was far from being human. If the crowd around him caught even a glimpse of his true shape, they would be scared witless, Perhaps admitted to a mental institution for the wild stories that would spring up. Dragons weren't something you saw every day after all. Or in his case, ever. He wasn't so foolish or quite so young that he would risk blowing his cover. Human technology and science had advanced so far that his species was constantly in danger of being discovered. That was why so many of them had decided to do their utmost to blend in, adopting human guises and integrating into society quietly and efficiently. That hadn't kept a lot of them from dying out, but it kept the rest of his kind safe. And he wasn't going to ruin it for everyone merely for a few moments of pleasure at watching a herd of freshman run for their lives.
At last escaping from the immediate press of people, Cinead began heading towards the street, intending on making his way to a local sandwich shop for lunch instead of fighting his way through the parking lot. Away from the crowd, his shoulders relaxed somewhat and it became less obvious just how tall he was. It was always an awkward feeling to view himself as a giant among people, but his frame was well above average, even if he had struggled to make his magic give him a less conspicuous shape. It hadn't worked, naturally. Dragon magic was a fickle thing, unhappy to constrict itself into such a strange body. But he made do with what he had. Shrugging his messenger bag into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, he did his best to block out the world for a little while, doing his best to ignore the smells and sounds around him.
You're welcome. Thank you to you as well. I'm OK with either. I have started on an introduction post. So I guess I can go first.
Sounds good to me! And you did a great job! I'm looking forward to seeing her in action.
Name: Cinead Drummond
age: Appears about 24
Appearance: standing at about six feet and three inches, Cinead has a rather intimidating presence about him. He has a muscular rounded build to his body, with broad shoulders and a deep chest. His hair is a light chocolatey Brown in color, with infrequent blonde highlights, and has a natural curl to it that makes it crinkle and curl around his ears, forehead and neck. His skin is a darkly tanned caramel, lending an exotic feel to his sharp cheek bones, angled jawline, and his slightly slanted almond shaped eyes. These are hazel in their coloring, a dark green around the outer edges and a lighter caramel color around the pupils. He rarely smiles, but when this does happen, the emotion shows more strongly within his eyes.
dragon appearance: easily the size of a double-decker bus, Cinead's dragon form has a classically European shape with a long neck and tail, four legs, and a massive pair of bat like wings. Primarily white in color, his throat, chin, belly, and underside of his tail darken to an ashy grey. His scales are then accented with the brightest of crimsons. The scales starting from his snout to about halfway down his long sinewy neck are edged in red along their back halves, The color slowly fading as it extends down onto his neck. Similarly, the same Crimson pattern extends the length of his tail, eventually fading as it reaches the point where the limb connects with his haunches. Each of his large wings appear as if they have been dragged through paint, each outermost tip drenched in The same fiery color with traces of it extending halfway up onto the limbs. Edges of red can also be seen adorning the majority of the scales on each of his paws. His triangular head sports a pair of slender ribbed horns that have a gentle curve to them as they extend away from his skull. In this form, his eyes are a bright golden yellow, with slitted cat like pupils.
age: Appears about 24
Appearance: standing at about six feet and three inches, Cinead has a rather intimidating presence about him. He has a muscular rounded build to his body, with broad shoulders and a deep chest. His hair is a light chocolatey Brown in color, with infrequent blonde highlights, and has a natural curl to it that makes it crinkle and curl around his ears, forehead and neck. His skin is a darkly tanned caramel, lending an exotic feel to his sharp cheek bones, angled jawline, and his slightly slanted almond shaped eyes. These are hazel in their coloring, a dark green around the outer edges and a lighter caramel color around the pupils. He rarely smiles, but when this does happen, the emotion shows more strongly within his eyes.
dragon appearance: easily the size of a double-decker bus, Cinead's dragon form has a classically European shape with a long neck and tail, four legs, and a massive pair of bat like wings. Primarily white in color, his throat, chin, belly, and underside of his tail darken to an ashy grey. His scales are then accented with the brightest of crimsons. The scales starting from his snout to about halfway down his long sinewy neck are edged in red along their back halves, The color slowly fading as it extends down onto his neck. Similarly, the same Crimson pattern extends the length of his tail, eventually fading as it reaches the point where the limb connects with his haunches. Each of his large wings appear as if they have been dragged through paint, each outermost tip drenched in The same fiery color with traces of it extending halfway up onto the limbs. Edges of red can also be seen adorning the majority of the scales on each of his paws. His triangular head sports a pair of slender ribbed horns that have a gentle curve to them as they extend away from his skull. In this form, his eyes are a bright golden yellow, with slitted cat like pupils.
I love little fortunate accidents like that. Ha ha! I'm working out the last couple of details for my brief character sheet and then I should post it. If you want to start on your introduction or your own character sheet, feel free to. Oh, where did we want to start out? Simple city life? College? Somewhere else?
Heyo! I'm glad you found the thread! I was just about to send it to you. Ha!
The sound of the truck Engine was an unfamiliar rumble around her as Camilla Scott drove down the lonely stretch of highway before her, periodically squinting through her sunglasses down at the GPS hooked into The dashboard and out at the seemingly endless wilderness around her. She was more attuned to the gentle purring of a BMW, custom leather upholstery soft, her favorite air freshener making the air smell like cherries... But the shiny little red car hadn't felt appropriate for the setting she was headed to now, so the BMW had been sold, traded in for a used blue pick up truck, and she and a small collection of belongings headed off into the great unknown. The move had been crazy, impulsive, but had the potential to bring back hope into her life.
Cami had been a rather important person in a large corporation only the week before, had even been headed in the direction of becoming CEO, but had dropped it all after receiving a letter from a person she barely even knew. She had just gotten home from work, feeling particularly miserable after a rather stressful day at the office, unhappy with her life and praying for a way out. She had just kicked off her heels and had slumped onto the living room couch, trying to work herself up to reading a folder of client information, when a quiet knock had sounded at the door to her apartment and a letter dropped through the mail slot and landed with a soft thump on her woven welcome mat. Curious, though a little apprehensive as well, she had retrieved the letter, Glancing over the return address. She barely recognized the name, but felt her heart give a squeeze as she saw the town name. Skyhollow Valley.
The initial letter itself was from a man named Harold, Whos simple note explained that he had been a good friend of her grandfather before he had passed away. He told her how he had been helping go through some of the records that had been kept in her grandfather's house when they had come across a sealed envelope with her name and address on it, a posted note stuck to the front stating that it should be sent on his behalf in the event that his death should come about before he himself had had the chance to mail the message. Harold apologized that he had not given it to her sooner when they had come in contact at the funeral six months before, but had mailed it as soon as it had been discovered. She had withdrawn the second letter with somewhat shaky fingers, feeling a wave of nostalgia and sadness as she looked at her own name written in her grandfather's hand. She definitely wasn't expecting the message that was held within the envelope.
Dearest Camilla bean,
I sure do miss you squirt. It feels like only yesterday when you were here visiting, your hair done up in pigtails, wearing a pair of overalls that you said made you "look like Gwanpa." Oh, you were just the cutest doll, following me around with your little plastic watering can while I tended the fields. You must have done more running back and forth to refill your can then you actually did watering the plants.
But I digress, I wasn't planning on telling embarrassing stories about you in this letter. By this time, I've already told you and your mother about my illness, So I won't waste time going over those details again. I don't have much strength to dwell on such matters. What I really wanted to tell you is much more important than what I am sure makes you sad to think of. Your mother has been telling me about your new job, about how proud she is at your success, but is worried about the increasing amount of depression she sees in your face. She's worried about you and your well-being. As am I. It has been several years now since your last visit to the farm, but I still remember your deep-seated love of this old place. I haven't been able to take care of it the way I would like to. Because of this, my deepest wish is to leave the care of the farm in your hands. If I know you, my granddaughter, your free spirit is feeling trapped and suffocated within the confines of the big city. Or, if it's not now, it will be one day. When that day comes, the farm Will be there waiting for you, ready to welcome you for the opportunity to get away from the modern world, get back to nature and open air.
I trust you with all of my heart. The deed Will be included with this letter. Good luck for your future.
With love,
Grandpa Scott
Things had fallen into place quickly after that. Cami Head immediately jumped into excited action, readily purging her clothing of the silks and suits, Packing away the high heels and the jewelry, packing up what little she felt comfortable taking to the countryside and handing over the responsibility of her apartment and it's furniture to her brother without a backwards glance. Everyone thought she was crazy, quitting her job, abandoning her friends in the city life. But she knew the truth. Her grandfather had thrown her a lifeline and she was taking hold of it with both hands.
She probably would have missed the turn off if she hadn't been watching carefully for it, A small wooden sign indicating in neatly painted letters that her destination was 5 miles along the dirt road an arrow pointed towards. Turning onto the unpaved road, Camilla Felt The familiar stirrings of excitement, anxiety, and nostalgia that she had been plagued with for the last several miles churn within her stomach once more. She had no doubts that she was making the right decision, but she wasn't sure what waited for her on the other end.
Cami had been a rather important person in a large corporation only the week before, had even been headed in the direction of becoming CEO, but had dropped it all after receiving a letter from a person she barely even knew. She had just gotten home from work, feeling particularly miserable after a rather stressful day at the office, unhappy with her life and praying for a way out. She had just kicked off her heels and had slumped onto the living room couch, trying to work herself up to reading a folder of client information, when a quiet knock had sounded at the door to her apartment and a letter dropped through the mail slot and landed with a soft thump on her woven welcome mat. Curious, though a little apprehensive as well, she had retrieved the letter, Glancing over the return address. She barely recognized the name, but felt her heart give a squeeze as she saw the town name. Skyhollow Valley.
The initial letter itself was from a man named Harold, Whos simple note explained that he had been a good friend of her grandfather before he had passed away. He told her how he had been helping go through some of the records that had been kept in her grandfather's house when they had come across a sealed envelope with her name and address on it, a posted note stuck to the front stating that it should be sent on his behalf in the event that his death should come about before he himself had had the chance to mail the message. Harold apologized that he had not given it to her sooner when they had come in contact at the funeral six months before, but had mailed it as soon as it had been discovered. She had withdrawn the second letter with somewhat shaky fingers, feeling a wave of nostalgia and sadness as she looked at her own name written in her grandfather's hand. She definitely wasn't expecting the message that was held within the envelope.
Dearest Camilla bean,
I sure do miss you squirt. It feels like only yesterday when you were here visiting, your hair done up in pigtails, wearing a pair of overalls that you said made you "look like Gwanpa." Oh, you were just the cutest doll, following me around with your little plastic watering can while I tended the fields. You must have done more running back and forth to refill your can then you actually did watering the plants.
But I digress, I wasn't planning on telling embarrassing stories about you in this letter. By this time, I've already told you and your mother about my illness, So I won't waste time going over those details again. I don't have much strength to dwell on such matters. What I really wanted to tell you is much more important than what I am sure makes you sad to think of. Your mother has been telling me about your new job, about how proud she is at your success, but is worried about the increasing amount of depression she sees in your face. She's worried about you and your well-being. As am I. It has been several years now since your last visit to the farm, but I still remember your deep-seated love of this old place. I haven't been able to take care of it the way I would like to. Because of this, my deepest wish is to leave the care of the farm in your hands. If I know you, my granddaughter, your free spirit is feeling trapped and suffocated within the confines of the big city. Or, if it's not now, it will be one day. When that day comes, the farm Will be there waiting for you, ready to welcome you for the opportunity to get away from the modern world, get back to nature and open air.
I trust you with all of my heart. The deed Will be included with this letter. Good luck for your future.
With love,
Grandpa Scott
Things had fallen into place quickly after that. Cami Head immediately jumped into excited action, readily purging her clothing of the silks and suits, Packing away the high heels and the jewelry, packing up what little she felt comfortable taking to the countryside and handing over the responsibility of her apartment and it's furniture to her brother without a backwards glance. Everyone thought she was crazy, quitting her job, abandoning her friends in the city life. But she knew the truth. Her grandfather had thrown her a lifeline and she was taking hold of it with both hands.
She probably would have missed the turn off if she hadn't been watching carefully for it, A small wooden sign indicating in neatly painted letters that her destination was 5 miles along the dirt road an arrow pointed towards. Turning onto the unpaved road, Camilla Felt The familiar stirrings of excitement, anxiety, and nostalgia that she had been plagued with for the last several miles churn within her stomach once more. She had no doubts that she was making the right decision, but she wasn't sure what waited for her on the other end.
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