Other ` 𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔳𝔢 - roleplay samples

[evocation]

evocation's roleplay samples thread
likely mostly cross-platform entries,
examples ordered from old to new!

Welcome to where I plan to dump some of my roleplay entries from previous or even current plots!
This thread was created for the sake of ease of reference; and so that potential roleplay partners can
have a better gauge on what my more recent writing style is like in advance! ^^

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[evocation]

━──────────────━
the admin's general writing details
multi-paragraph roleplayer | literate + | ~200+ words minimally per RP response

current posted sample count : 3
grp : 3 | 1x1 : 0 | starter : 3 | interaction post : 1
━──────────────━

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[evocation]

28/1/2024 | character entry for an Amino GRP | 944 words​

EDUR

vincere aut mori; this world is unforgiving

vampiric ‎ the waltz of the damned ‎ death's connoisseur

RENASCENCE

have you forgotten?

Moonlight Sonata (FULL)

— Beethoven

location: along the coastline
interactions: -
mentions: -

scroll

[section TWs: attempted depictions of drowning]​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Edur found himself sinking.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It felt as though he had been enveloped by a current so resisting, an invisible thief that robbed him of every ounce of air. Pressure pushed against him from all sides, acting as barriers that kept thrusting him further, deeper down into the abyss. His eyes were glued shut by something unknown, eyelids not lifting even an inch no matter how much force he exerted.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He should have panicked, should have struggled. The situation was bound to have set his instinctive need for survival into a frenzy.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Yet for some reason, he did not.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ An odd sense of peace was all he’d felt then. Welcoming, inviting; as if doing such was merely a reunion with an old friend. Thus, without a single moment of fight, the man was ready to embrace murky depths… Until he wasn’t.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It was as if a switch had been flipped. In a blink, the previous emotions of tranquility were replaced with nothing but pure panic. He was hit hard with a sudden surge, inciting a struggle so inevitable. He’d tried to kick; tried to flail, yet no matter what he did, it was as if there had been no effect at all. He pushed with his limbs but could find no leverage— hell, for all he knew he could even have been dragging himself further down.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Yet despite how tight that gentle yet relentless grip had been, at one point he was suddenly so easily released. With the shackles that’d once imprisoned him now gone, an abrupt weightlessness overwhelmed the man. He could feel himself rapidly sinking, lungs burning and unable to utter even one single syllable due to his breathlessness then.

───┈┈┈┄┄╌╌╌╌┄┄┈┈┈───​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Somewhere along the surrounding coastline of Mystoria, a solitary figure laid. Unconscious was a lanky man clad in simple smart casual, his already pale complexion even more ashen due to reasons unknown then. A small frown was worn across his features, akin to the remembrance of an unpleasant dream. At some point, a struggle began to play upon his countenance, etching lines of strain as the man appeared to be fighting against some invisible enemy.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And then, he awoke.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ With a hefty gasp, the man startled awake, shooting up into an upright position as his hands dug into the soft grains around it. Momentarily, his eyes had flickered open: revealing a bleary gaze swirling with a coaster of perplexity. Yet almost immediately after, they’d closed once again, an inhuman hiss escaping him when a sharp pain shot through his head— a consequence of his rash actions mere moments prior.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Cradling his head, it took a minute or so for him to recollect himself. Finally becoming more conscious, a sense of inconsistency arose within him. It felt like he’d forgotten something. No, it felt like he’d forgotten a 𝘭𝘰𝘵 of things. Yet he simply could not piece together what exactly it was, a mere void all that was left in the fragments of his scattered consciousness. The faint ringing that’d echoed in his ears alongside the dull ache in his temples certainly did not help his attempts to remember.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ What he knew, he didn't; memories but a mere fog away. It was unsettling, for a past that'd shaped him to have been taken. Yet if there truly was one in the first place, he couldn’t be sure either.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ — Swishhh.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Susurration returned him to the present, a gaze of gloom unveiled to sweep past cooling winds. He appeared to be on a beach of some sort (how he could recall what it was, that knowledge was past him), yet washed up he was not; for his clothes bore no trace of dampness. On the other hand, the disheveled hair that clung to his forehead implied at least some kind of entanglement with liquid prior. But had it been the body of water not too far away? The man had his doubts.

───┈┈┈┄┄╌╌╌╌┄┄┈┈┈───​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The longer he sat, the more aware he was of the morning star’s unrelenting glare. It seems that he was somewhere deserted, judging by the almost eerie quietness of his surroundings then. If that was the same for the rest of the island? He cannot be so certain. Yet he knew he couldn’t simply just.. brood there. No, not if he wished to break free from the unknown. It never was like him to merely wait for something, anything to occur. Passiveness a stranger to his blood.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ But was it?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Forcing himself up despite groaning appendages, the man’s demeanor seemed to shift in a blink. Stretching his limbs, he awaited a satisfying crack before setting off onto a trial of more sand. Despite the carelessness ingrained in his every step, unhidden wary eyes betrayed any emotion but that. Sure, there was a jungle.. forest… a region of trees nearby, but he wasn’t so naive as to simply trail in so unprepared. With practically nothing on his being, he’d be far too easy of a prey to any predators in wait— especially in a place so restricted by dense greenery. Perhaps he should arm himself with something? That was a thought to consider. But before then, he decided to seek some passing shade.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Edur never did like the sun, after all.

© reveriee

 

[evocation]

5/8/2024 | character entry and interaction for an Amino GRP | 1147 words​

志 ZHIHAO 豪

does the guilt weigh down those shoulders of yours? does it haunt and keep you up at night?

nepotism ‎ unregretful arrogance ‎ emotional hunger

SEHNSUCHT

they're right, you are a monster

いたみわけ/カロンズベカラズ

— カロンズベカラズ

location: staff lounge
interactions: william
mentions: angelique, rayan

scroll

‎


‎ ‎ ‎ — click.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Zhihao believed that there was a limit to how many mistakes an individual can make— especially when it's the same one being repeated over and over again. Was he being hypocritical? Perhaps. But can his suspicions really be blamed, when it was the promises with 𝘩𝘪𝘮 who'd always been so upright that had suddenly faced a breaking streak?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The first. The second. The third.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It took the twenty-seventh attempt for him to have long come to terms with the facts. Left to stare at nothing but an empty exchange; a flatlined dial, it took a second or two before a short laugh escaped the man— a fleeting breath in the room that'd come to die soon. Thin lips curled upward, forming a smile that did not match his eyes. Gently tapping the edge of the device onto the table, he drawled out a low whisper.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It seems you've lied to me again, 哥."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ — Mockery set sail in a sea of indiscernible emotions.

━──────────────━​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The occasional rustling of paper filled the room.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Lounged upon a swivel chair, an unconcerned visage was tinted by the soft radiance of the then-idle monitors that'd packed the wall ahead. A head of unnatural silver was slightly lowered; the man's gaze fixed onto documents (or so it seemed) held in a single-handed grip. A beat, or two, had passed before he'd paused; eyes glancing back and forth at the two sets he'd just run through.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Hoh. Isn't that another obvious difference?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Having momentarily amused himself, he reached out to the next— only for his movements to still yet again as this time, a rather sudden appearance broke his focus.



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Morgan."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A mere address of acknowledgment was already the most few could get out of him. He raised his gaze to fall upon the other, eyes slightly narrowing at the bright colours that'd immediately popped into his field of vision. Even before he'd raised his head, that familiar, accented chirpy tone was telling enough to identify who the uninvited guest was. William Morgan: the main host and announcer of this very show he'd found himself momentarily intrigued by when he first read through its concept during his usual aid to the eldest.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ — Seeing that twist, he immediately knew its premise would be the perfect opportunity to settle the winner of that old argument.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A silent revenge.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Hence why he'd found himself clearing up his schedule for the rest of the year upon receiving the news that his 'application' (or moreso just a casual request to essentially "hop in and help around") as a coordinator, and partial sponsor, had been accepted. Truth be told, he had no idea why the other had decided to have him— being that they'd been strangers up till then, and he was more than aware of the fact that the email he'd sent was far from an acceptable formal job application.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Then again, the host was quite an oddball— or so was the case in Zhihao's eyes. Easily distinguishible in both demeanor and.. well, appearance. However, he was far more amusing and tolerable to be around as compared to a certain sanctimonious bunch.



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Friendly?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He rose a brow at William's words, following his prompt to the screen. Considering all that was and could be judged then was soulless text, he honestly doubted it. It was far too easy for the applicants to have lied in their forms, and knowing human nature: he wouldn't put it past them if anyone actually had, whatever the extent.



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Despite a question being posed to him soon after, Zhihao didn't attempt to answer right away; knowingly watching on as the other seamlessly shifted to becoming immersed in his own thoughts— something he'd gotten used to only just recently. A smile subtly made its presence known through the then-silent man's slightly creased eyes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Well, I'm regrettably not as quick as you are in going through the forms." It took a moment or so to pass before he'd finally begun responding. "All those admission stuff had been left to you, so I've only just started reading through them." A careless shrug. "Two's the furthest I've gotten."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As if to emphasize his point, he raised the hand that still held onto the two particular sets he'd been shuffling through earlier— the mysterious documents finally being identified as printed versions of the participants' forms (because he, for some reason, had decided to go the more 'traditional' route despite the digital copies being oh so readily available to him).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "But based on the ones I've gone through..."



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ — Angelique and Rayan. Those names were still fresh in his mind.



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Not quite."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Leaning back slightly, the chair's leather creaked in protest with his movements. Gaze lowered, Zhihao nonchalantly fiddled with the documents; his lips at some point having curled up into a non-committal smile.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "But they did get me curious," he rose his line of sight to meet the other's once again, "of how they'd perform when on the show itself."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Especially when faced with the option, or even consequence, of betrayal— considering both had claimed to be against it in their answers.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ... Well, thinking through it again, that advocation was perhaps not quite that obvious for the one named Rayan. That form had short, but rather curiously phrased responses.



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Withdrawing the hint of malice that'd seeped through, the man seemed to have decided that then would be timely to deflect the query onto William.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What about you, host announcer?" He breezily poked the other with his words, a seemingly joking drawl on the title. "Has any of them successfully drawn in an unfair favor?"

© reveriee

 

[evocation]

7/8/2024 | character entry and interaction for an Amino GRP | 1827 words
(this is technically only the first part of the entire entry, as there was initially a mentions segment that had been moved to the next entry after some consideration on my side haha!)​

AINSLEY

if only fate had been kinder to us fools; if only i'd been given just one more chance

contrition ‎ theatrics ‎ 'hopeless romantic'

LEIDENSCHAFT

those eyes stared back

Evermore

— Josh Groban

location: home ↦ preset stage ↦ villa (entrance ↦ living room)
interactions: -
mentions: -

scroll

‎


``

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Darling, please. I know your thoughts; I understand why you're so hesitant— I really do. But just this once, like we'd always done before,

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ let's put our trust in our son.

``​

━──────────────━​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Subdued harmonies wove through the room, the vinyl's faint crackle fluttering with every broken fringe. Soft, mellow strains flitted in the air; whispers of a grand piano gently enveloping each momentary breath. Amidst the old tune, a figure sat with closed eyes; head tilted back as short auburn barely blended in with the red surface below.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The words dropped so casually had been taken seriously by the man. It was an impulsive choice, honest to God— like a ghost had possessed his hand. By the time Ainsley had come to realise just what he'd done, he hadn't been sure what to make of it then. And truthfully, nothing has changed since. Yet...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The world returned to his sight. Raising his hand, he stared at the slightly crumpled paper held within his grasp. An intricate design of which lifelessly cheerful words danced upon; news of that application he wished to have just left as is painfully apparent like a silent mockery.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "...Shit" was a muttered curse that'd faded away with the music that remained on play.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Optimistically speaking: this was Fate's benevolent sign; a final chance for him to make things right in his life. However, Ainsley doubted it— himself, and its purpose. For all he knew, it could simply be another set-up for him to repeat the same mistakes all over again.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ But alas, as the saying went: 'If the window of opportunity appears, don't pull down the shade'. He supposed he could give it a chance; give himself a chance. He could afford to take the risk.

‎ ‎ ‎ — After all, what else did he have to lose?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's just...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His gaze subconsciously shifted to the coffee table where a rectangular device lay; a call he'd eventually have to answer once the clock struck ten. This mere glance was enough to make his shoulders slump, the feeling of exhaustion immediately washing over his entire being like a crashing wave. With a sigh, he brought the sheet of paper down to cover his face.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Just how exactly should he break the news to them?

━──────────────━​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Surprisingly, they'd let off easier than he'd expected.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A mere one day was all it took for him to receive back a message that expressed his parents' wholehearted love and support despite the short, yet tense call the night prior. It was just so.. quick, that it honestly left him at quite a bit of a loss. Perhaps a part of him had hoped they'd oppose; give him a reason to simply not go.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ But then again, that may have made the situation all the more complicated— rejection process and all. Enough to make him yearn for simplicity and end up wasting time just to return to the same fate. Plus, the temporary free accommodation and transport made participation quite tempting an offer. So he supposed it wasn't all that bad in the end.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Looking out towards the blurs of fleeting white, he eventually came to close his eyes; whirring motors like a muffled lullaby.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's been a while since he'd last flown.

━──────────────━​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A pre-recorded interview. Something he honestly should have expected according to the usual routine of variety shows with concepts such as this. Yet for some reason, he hadn't. Let alone expect them to commit to doing it on an actual stage— preset or not.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Well, that was on him he'd admit. He truthfully should have done more research about what exactly he was signing up for, being that previous episodes had been so readily available for him to study in advance. Alas, it was far too late now. He could only wing it and…

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ hope for the best.



‎ ‎ ‎ — The spotlight shone upon their bodies, welcoming; enveloping, like a tender embrace.



‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ainsley felt sick.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It wasn't his first time on a stage— oh no, not at all. In fact, such is an environment he's been familiar with for as long as he can remember. His once sanctuary and born home. But to once again be under the focus of the lights? That, was another thing.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The very warmth he used to bask in, those invisible eyes that'd reaffirmed— all reduced to nothing but bugs and worms that crept and crawled under his skin. Something deep-seated gnawed at his bones, a whirlpool of complications swirling within. He couldn't help but anticipate; feared yet expected. A crash and a call. A‐

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Clink.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The light sound of glass snapped him out of his thoughts.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Raising his gaze towards the well-dressed man, the host, before him, he returned a simple nod to what he presumed were questioning eyes. By his nature, his previous turmoil would have been near-invisible to the outside, hence he simply assumed that the other's action to call back his attention then was because he'd been unresponsive for too long. Straightening his posture, he brought his hands together to clasp above his lap. Yet upon doing so, he couldn't help but pause.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ..Oh. Was he shaking this whole time?


‎ ‎ ‎ — With the silent countdown, the show began.

━──────────────━​

What's your name?​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Ainsley. Ainsley Hughes." An intentional falter, and yet he still subconsciously persisted. "..But please, just call me Innes."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As if only just realising what he'd added on, a tense look swept over the man's countenance. Pursing his lips, he took in a deep breath.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's fine. One step at a time.

Why did you join this show?​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Motives. A predictable question, yet something he was still quite unprepared for. He supposed he technically did already know his purpose, but.. how exactly should he phrase it in such a setting?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "..Love." He started hesitantly, internally still quite surprised by how easily the term had left his mouth. Fortunately, it seemed such was sufficient enough of a prompt for the rest of his words to naturally flow in— but then again, with his past, that shouldn't be too much of a surprise. "I suppose I wanted to give love another chance."

‎ ‎ ‎ — But love wasn't the main point of this plan for redemption, was it?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ At some point during the interview, his lips had curled up into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

What will be the first thing you do if you win the show?​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Right. For a moment, Ainsley had genuinely forgotten that there was some grand prize for this whole thing. Well- not quite forgotten. It was more so he'd completely left it at the back of his mind. Yet it didn't take too long for him to think of a response; an answer conveniently already within his grasp.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Repay my gratitudes."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ To thank the ones who'd stuck by him even when he had not.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Apologise."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ To the one whom his words can no longer reach anymore.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I don't need their forgiveness," his voice had lowered by then, the man uncaring of whether the mic would even actually pick up what he was saying, "I guess I just want some peace of mind, even if it’s just for a while."

‎ ‎ ‎ — Liar.

How old are you, where are you from, and any last words to the audience?​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The first.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "26, though technically I suppose I 𝘢𝘮 turning 27..." He hummed as if in thought, leaning back in his seat as a hand was brought up to his chin. It seemed he was finally getting comfortable; movements beginning to become more animated. 𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦. "But it'd practically be next year by then, so..." he drawled out the ending, a mock shrug before readjusting himself into a posture similar to the one prior.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The second.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "As in my birthplace, or where I came from right before this show?" Despite deflecting the question with a raised brow, he didn't give anyone time to reply to him as he proceeded to carry on a mere moment later. "Assuming it's the latter, I was in Ireland before flying here."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Dublin, you know, the most populated part of the country?" A false twinkle of nostalgia; a skillful play of angle and lighting. He'd done it enough times in the past for it to have become mere muscle memory— even after this long.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Though he did miss that home with his grandparents, he knew merely recollecting it wouldn't be enough to show something genuine. Everything since then had become overshadowed, after all— that was a fact he was far too familiar with.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "As for if it was the former? Have fun asking around in each and every hospital until you find it." A smug smirk was worn upon his features as he once again leaned back. "Hint: it's not in Ireland."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The last.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Last words..."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ In a blink, his expression became solemn.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Pa, ma," he'd begun only never to conclude. In the eyes of the audience, all the man had done before the screens flickered off was childishly raise his pinky in the gesture of what is commonly known as a promise. Like a comedic bit. However, it had an additional meaning special to the three of them alone.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I'll be fine.

‎ ‎ ‎ — Another blatant lie.

━──────────────━​

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ For a moment, Ainsley doubted whether he'd been sent to the right place. The villa in front of him was.. frankly not quite what he'd expected. In fact, he'd even feel ashamed if asked now to admit his initial assumptions towards where the participants would be made to stay.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As he walked past the canopy of flora that decorated the front yard, he couldn't help but let out a sigh of genuine appreciation at the sights before him. When he glanced at the camera as previously instructed, he wondered if he seemed similar to an infant seeing the world for the first time. But alas, how could he be blamed? Walking closer to the villa, he came to realise just how large it actually was compared to himself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Well, he's surely going to have a fine time wandering around later, if not just to admire the architecture of the whole place.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Absorbed in his thoughts (of the current of all things too), he soon came to reach the flight of stairs that'd lead him down to where he was told the participants would gather at. Already hearing snippets of faint voices in the distance, the man paused where he stood; simply staring down with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A beat, and two.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Letting loose the hand that'd practically strangled the poor handles of the single luggage he brought with him, he closed his eyes; muttering a sentence to himself like some silent war cry before descending down— down to the living room where he'd finally meet the ones he'd be living beside for some time from then on.

© reveriee