Fantasy A Squid Pro Quo arrangement

[Squid Pro Quo]

Introduction and the details.​

Hello, I'm squid. I should divulge some details about myself. I'm a roleplayer and artist. I've been rping for over two decades now. Other tidbits about myself are that I'm a female, born and raised in Afghanistan, and English is my third language. Despite this, I'm confident my ability to paint a scene and portray a character ought to suffice.

I'm seeking a fellow writer to pen a long-term story with. I don't care about your gender or any such details as I find them immaterial. I write about 5-15 paragraphs. Your length isn't crucial to me, as RP is collaborative and not competitive. Regarding the story itself, I like to discuss such details with my partner. I find it challenging to create a narrative that doesn't favor my creation when I don't have half the cast. (Or more.) I'll elaborate more on that later. If you wish to see my world I can send the link. Nevertheless, exploring that universe is optional and I'm more than fine delving into your setting (I prefer it.).

What I'm looking for in a partner.
1) 18+
2) Must have a character sheet.
3) It must be an OC not tied to a fandom.
4) I only do fantasy grounded in some logic.
5) The willpower to read and commit.
6) Post time can fluctuate. Communicate with me if you need time, I'm patient.
7) At least two paragraphs from my partner. (Proper paragraphs.)​

You can send your creations right away if you desire. If you elect to contact me, I'll send my characters then. I understand some might denote my lack of a "plot" as a negative. That's fine. I am just not fond of putting you into boxes such as but not limited to...

"You will play this race, this role, this gender. We will fall in love. these things will happen, and this is your backstory."

I fancy more fluidity and feel giving my partner more control over the OC they wish to create or use has proven immeasurably more beneficial. Things I will not be interested in.

What I don't want.

Smut
CRP without reason
Wish Fulfillment, self inserts, power fantasy.
Godmodding
Metagaming
Not playing a role.
Mary/Gary sues
Not respecting my OC's autonomy.
Forcing dice/stats on me​

However, I'll include a post to ameliorate any concerns about my writing style. I understand some of the context will be missing as it's from an exchange another author and I have built up over the last three going four years (ooc.) Without further delay, enjoy.

Sample 1​

The retired sojourner felt at home encircled by her eclectic collection of books. While most hoarded gold, Zelena was more interested in accumulating knowledge. Foolishly, the crimson menace offered this bounty of tomes for secure passage into the jungle. And Florentina and Nysoesa had blundered, vesting her the privileged position of head archivist. The station afforded her ample time to facilitate the swelling of erudition.

That thirst for information couldn't be slaked, and the oni demanded more with each drop of data. Mirage, her mother, may have imparted more than she had desired. Through the dissection of old records, Zelena uncovered the defiled's Achilles heel. And her addition to the war effort via studious pursuits only imbued her more fiduciary. She abused this confidence, squirming her boneless limbs deeper into the germinating regime. It served as the mode by which she'd verify herself as indispensable. Facilitating her efficacy to the point the other members of the tribunal couldn't dispose of her.

The other two may have had might on their side, but they lacked one vital component of a successful equation, acuity. And rather than vie for dominance via a desperate bid in a theatre she'd unquestionably lose. Zelena helmed her future down an alternate path. This authentication endowed her with a great deal of wiggle room. However, even she apprehended how ephemeral it was. And if misappropriated, her rule could only be categorized as fleeting.

The halls of her palace were a sight to behold—fine marble floors complimented by a multicolored exhibition of coral. The sea sponge walls and shells fastened throughout proclaimed the oni's success. A point also underscored by their ornate armor comprised of various sea elements—kaleidoscopic fins accentuated by vivid coral with precious pearls boasted of their enriched culture. And the distant humming of technology, while easily overlooked, alluded to something much more transpiring under the veneer.

Dutifully her sentries and their shelled automatons patrolled the palace. The din of their footfalls was the only noise to disrupt the trickling of the study's fountain. Calmly, those emerald and topaz eyes deviated from the pages of her alchemical notebook. They'd veer up to the ceiling and marvel at the craftsmanship of the chandeliers overhead. Those crystal ornaments sparkled, evidence of Memoria's commitment. Gifts that had unknowingly ushered a eureka within the aquatic sphinx's mind.

Zelena had long since mulled over recondite key points of contention. The covenant they had assembled was newly inaugurated. Momentarily, time is on their side, but a complacent demeanor could only lead to ruination. The erecting of an empire was an arduous affair. Facets she hadn't foreseen presented themselves as most vexing. One main snag was regarding their economy. How would they back their currency? Many ideas were flung about; none sat well with the oceanic abomination. Regardless, it was the most annus mirabilis of years that made her reminisced of yesteryear's halcyon.

Bone wouldn't work, and gold was in short supply, given they had yet to identify many sources. The tribunal needed something tangible, valuable, and unremitting. Yet, at the same time, it had to be renewable—a hedge to combat inflation. It was when Mazana gifted her those chandeliers that it hit her. And the solution to the dilemma was so obvious Zelena pondered how no one entertained it. Energy.

Memoria was filled with magical crystals and jinn. These two components could come together to supply that much-coveted resource to themselves and their neighbors. And given the current trajectory, Zelena saw a future where fuel consumption would make it more priceless than gold. They'd invest now to reap the incalculable wealth later. Nevertheless, one final question remained unanswerable, would the others see the wisdom in her plan?

It was for this reason that she looked forward to Nysoesa's arrival. She understood that the leech held Florentina's heart. And if she could be persuaded, then the diva would acquiesce. And given the stakes, would anyone chastise her for employing coquettish means to ascertain desirable results? It didn't matter. Zelena hadn't the time or luxury to quarrel over moral implications. Virtuous or not, she was open to unorthodox stratagems.

Nysoesa's arrival couldn't elude the diligent eyes of her constituents. Those most loyal to her spotted the parasite's approach. Nonetheless, the octopi's unperturbed deportment didn't wane. Zelena abided on her throne of tentacles. Those feelers rubbed against one another to apply that moisturizing enzyme. The redolence of lavender pervaded the room while her bicolored eyes returned to her scribbled equations. Ostensibly, they appeared like an alchemical analysis. The reality was far from so forthright.

The scribbling was a code, one only decipherable by the cephalopod. While perhaps overkill, Zelena had long since accepted a dose of paranoia was necessary. In reality, those numbers were her thoughts and data concerning energy. They were estimations, and while far from perfect, the conjecture wasn't without abundant corroborative evidence. The door opened. Meanwhile, Zelena persisted as if unmoved by the distraction. And once they were alone and her visitor had concluded her address, would the cephalopod audibly slam her book shut. Casually she'd place that book on those green and fit thighs while her legs remained crossed. Comfortably her elbows relaxed on those feelers as if they were an armrest while she presented the leech her undivided attention. And she did so while offering a pleasant smile.

"Queen Nysoesa, I'm delighted you could make it. You look as fetching and fearsome as ever. I trust the trip was without an episode and the my sentries didn't delay your arrival. In regards to my well being, I'm doing fabulously. One could even say elated now that you've arrived."

Gingerly her claws drummed against the spine of the book as she rested her palms along the cover. The fact that Zelena sequestered herself to drown herself in research shouldn't come off as dubious. After all, Zelena had a reputation as being an misanthrope. And she was the most academically inclined of the trio. A distinction she'd never balk from if brought up during a conversation.

"How is Florentina? Last I heard, she was doing swimmingly. Maternity suits her. However, I hope you aren't wearing her down too much? You must be so proud of your incubator. Such a commodity takes time to come by. Trust me; I've combed high and low for a suitable vessel to bear my young. You could say I'm green with envy."

She professed with a degree of magniloquence and a puckish grin. That fleshly habiliment rippled as per usual. The submerging and emerging eyes materialized across the living attire. Nonetheless, the organic suit did little to obfuscate her full-figured build. Meanwhile, Sloth, her custodian conch, kept his solitary eye on the leech. Yet, he wasn't perched on her shoulder but seated on the table by the room's entryway.

"This one here be thinking that perhaps me misjudged ya. Ya ain't half bad for one so mortally inclined. Good lookin' speak highly of ya. And Sloth be thinking maybe we gotten off on that there wrong noodle. Ya feel?"

The ascetic conch added as the distinct sound of him writing away could be heard. It was then Nysoesa might be shocked to discover the sea of tentacles that hoisted up the shell. Sloth shuffled across the table and strode over to the parasite as he stretched out an absurdly long tendril to shake her hand out of a sense of eleemosynary. "Bygones be bygones and all?"

Zelena permitted her partner the stage. The preening ritual was relaxing and brought her some semblance of confidence concerning her monstrous exterior. And as she lingered, she'd run her fingers through that green mane. She'd then finalize her address. "Yes, yes. Once that is all done, perhaps we could return to business. Unless you rather admire the view?"

A not-so-subtle epiphany that Zelena had quite the inkling regarding the sexual magnetism the two shared. There was something titillating about rebelling against the social norm, and she harbored no scruples in flaunting her interest. And the fact it was taboo only emboldened the oceanic maiden. Was this a mistake? If so, it was hers to make and one she'd derive tremendous satisfaction from indulging in, even if prudence had to be metaphorically balkanized to pursue a mite of ineluctable hedonism.

Sample 2​

The biological precursors of his acceptance were all but obfuscated from her perforating orbs. Zelena had enough sagacity to pinpoint the hallmarks that foreshadowed his decision long before Salman uttered those words. The infiltration of those boneless limbs had seized his mind. And if she were a heartless entity, Zelena would regard this man as merely a marionette. A pawn to move across the board to stoke her selfish pursuits.

Providentially for her child, Zelena had annotated the inanity of her predecessors. She had long since dispensed with empathy and wielded a more diverse toolkit. A deity was nothing without its followers—a dichotomy many kings have overlooked during their tenure. The subtlest of actions could have profound consequences. And she swore never to repeat their folly.

Since this civilization's dawn, the cephalopod has dispersed the need for consonance. Language and culture were the modes by which rulers subjugated the masses. Diversity, while a strength, couldn't be permitted to usurp their foremost identity. And should either devolve, the results were nothing short of catastrophic—a necessary defense, given the stratagems of their southern neighbor.

And what instruments should she utilize to safeguard against deterioration? Religion and language. By keeping the printing press under her feelers, she had sole control over the dissemination of ideas. Ideas that might slip across state lines and propagate the gospel she desired. As a consequence, the evolution of the world was subject to her will, at least partly.

Salman was living evidence of this theory. He was merely another one of innumerable other subjects that substantiated her deductions. Nysoesa and Florentina may have been the muscles of their operation. But she was the heart and brain of their little experiment. Even now, a plethora of ideas crossed her sharp mind. Thoughts that may yet serve as the catalyst to put into fruition her true aims.

Zelena wasn't content regarding her children's safety. She had seen countless times the small-mindedness of the lesser species. It was only a matter of time before their fear of the unknown manifested itself. And when it does, the waves will turn red with blood. Repeatedly their penchants for war marred the accounts of history. And she'd be damned if her children were destined to become just another extinct species within the annuls of recollection.

The octopus maintained her relaxed deportment. Those emerald and topaz eyes noticed Salman's legs quivering. The lobster's quailing rendered with it the final piece of confirmation. Zelena couldn't have foreseen better results even if she had endeavored to rig the results. Those prying eyes scanned her son for any sliver of duplicity. However, none surfaced before her otherworldly gaze.

The former guard's agreement regarding doubt meant little. She couldn't be bothered to chide over such inconsequential details. His effort to receive a name was met with failure. Those who confided in her were given complete ambiguity. Faith, while immaterial, must always be rewarded. Still, she lauded Sal's endeavor. And would reward him by abstaining from issuing judgment.

Somehow, Sal had marshaled the courage to look upon his mother. Those black pearls he had for eyes burned with an immolating passion. The sort of fire that may be appropriated to render her enemies to ash. Zelena smirked as one of her feelers snaked toward her ordinator. Its suction cups and sleek exterior glided up the exoskeleton before tickling the chin and keeping his head up. A silence followed while a tendril manipulated his head so she might thoroughly inspect his face once he had stood.

"An imperfect vessel. I suppose it'll do."

She retracted her tendrils before navigating her eyes across the room. The names of the fallen were likely to grow as a list long before her vision was fulfilled. While haunting, she pledged never to omit their name from the records. While perhaps far from a perfect solution, there was no denying that the bodies of soldiers were the building blocks for any empire. And the least she could do was be thankful for their martyrdom. Something the desert ever bothered to do.

"You're to patrol the cities and towns. Keep your ears and eyes open. And should any dissidents emerge, you're to deal with them accordingly. Should the tribunal require more of you, you'll be informed. Now, be let loose against heresy with our blessing. And may your feet find warm shores, my son."

Zelena added before looking toward the door he had entered from.

"Your first destination is already in your quarters, waiting in your new uniform. Don't act shocked. Even the trinity has faith in our offspring. It is as I've said. The hive is symbiotic, a squid quo pro arrangement."

Regardless of your choice, I wish you a slew of grand narratives and lasting partners. I understand there are different strokes for different folks.

Sincerely, Squid Pro Quo ​

 

[Squid Pro Quo]

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[Squid Pro Quo]

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