Out Of Words
GM of If December Freezes
EDITED/UPDATED 04/06/2020
Greetings and Salutations!
I am looking for a 1x1 RP for the forums. I have certain characters who are currently louder than others and need to get their words out. I have roleplayed for more years than I care to count, most of it has been through writing in chat rooms, e-mail, other forums. All of my usual haunts seem to have dried up. Then lo, and behold, I find this lovely site and the characters in my head have grown quite excited. I was going to limit myself to two at the moment, but I have missed writing, so any of the ones listed below are available for writing. I can double up to a point if more than one is interested in a character.
I strongly prefer supernatural stories, especially shifters. The world itself can be fantasy, urban, or more. I'm not too fond of sci-fi (but with the right story it's possible), or westerns, or historical (as I couldn't care less about lore and history). I tend to just let the characters in my head get their words out, which may be a mish-mash of styles, etc.
What I really want, is to tell a great story. One I can look back and read years later, and still laugh, cry, or be surprised.
I can pretty much guarantee at least one post a week. It will likely be more, unless the voices want to sleep in for a little while. Everyone has good and bad days, but I'll let you know if I am needing a couple of extra days to respond. I am lucky to still be working in this not so lovely 'Rona time, but I am working from home. Some posts will be lengthy, some may only be a couple of paragraphs, but never, ever only a couple of sentences. I am not writing with any romance planned, however, if it happens along the way, it happens. Personality compatibility matters more than gender matching.
Below are the loudest characters in my head. The samples below do not have to represent the same world/realm/etc as what we wind up writing. I'm game to discuss settings and plot ideas. I will likely also slip in a couple NPCs here and there to keep things more robust. Also, I prefer using realistic character photos, or give me a great description.
I do request a writing sample, either in a reply, or in DMs, preferably in response to whichever character you would like to write with, or hit me up with a new suggestion and I will see if I have a voice who will fit.
If, at any time, you need to drop out, I ask for a quick message. I don't mind it happening, but being left in limbo is no bueno, and winds up just being frustrating. If you have any questions, ask away!
Currently Loud:
Augie "Duckie" Wells (currently in 1x1)
Abilities: Augie is a shifter of the werefox variety. He is agile, when he isn't tripping over his own feet. And quick, when he isn't running into something because he chose to look over a shoulder at the most inconvenient time. Augie has great eyesight, and can see partially in the dark. His hearing is above average, able to hear a mouse just under the ground's surface. Helps when he needs a quick snack.
Sample Writing:
Nearby, dry leaves of autumn crunched underneath a heavy boot. Augie held as still as one of the statues he'd often talk to in the cemetery where he was currently taking up residence. Both of his hands were pressed tightly over his mouth. For extra precaution, he also bit down on his tongue, literally. The faint, coppery taste of blood was proof, a taste he didn't particularly like. It worked though, the footsteps moved away from his hiding place among the shrubbery. When they spoke, it sounded like they were about to be on the far side of the cemetery.
"Brat's around here somewhere. Don't forget to check any open crypts. The prince will have our heads if we can't get the jewel back and I assure you, your heads will roll before mine!"
'They' were the crown's royal guards, and the jewel they were searching for was a dashingly good looking emerald carefully cut into the shape of a leaf. The 'Leaf of the World' was the full name of the beauty tucked safely away in a secret pocket of his tunic. With any luck, that's exactly where it would stay. Augie waited another full minute as he listened intently for any of the other guards. When all the sounds came from the other side of the cemetery, he chanced a peek. The coast was clear, the time was upon him, time to get the ever loving heck out of North Hills Cemetery.
Augie maintained the crouch as he slowly crept out of the shrubbery and toward the surrounding woods. One hand slipped away from his mouth to tug up the cloth tied around his neck. Augie hadn't had the time to don the magically enchanted mouth gag before the guards made their appearance, and had to improvise. He knew it would be difficult at best, making a getaway with hands held over his mouth. Truth be told, the taste of blood from biting his tongue had started to turn his stomach. He just had to slide the cloth into place before he made a sound.
See, Augie had a bit of a problem.
There was no filter between his head, and his mouth. If Augie thought it, his mouth said it, no matter what it was. If Augie thought one's choice of clothing lacked flair, he'd state as much. If he found one's smell too pungent, he let them know without batting an eye. If Augie knew a secret, the cat would be out of the bag faster than it was put into the bag. As one could imagine, this made life extremely difficult if one wasn't a hermit. And Augie was not. If asked the reason why, Augie couldn't say. He'd talk about a number of other things that popped into his head at the time, but the reason or rhyme for why, he didn't know. It was what it was, one hell of an inconvenience. It made his chosen profession of pilfering ten times more troublesome than it had to be. Though there were solutions, if one had coin to spare.
One such solution cost Augie a good year's worth of coin, baubles, and one I.O.U. favor the magic weaver could 'cash' in at any time. It was so worth the price, in his eyes. The piece of cloth was enchanted with a spell of silence. As long as it was either over his mouth, like a mask, or in his mouth, like a gag, nothing he said would be heard, not even by himself. The latter was somewhat irritating at times, not hearing his own words. However, prizes like the Leaf of the World made everything alright, assuming he could escape and keep the beauty.
Augie had just slipped the cloth up and over his mouth, when he felt a small tap-tap-tap to a shoulder, followed by a not so discreet clearing of the throat. Crouched still, he tilted his head upward and found one of the guards standing over him from behind. The man had a twist of a grin on his face, as if he had been following while the thief duck waddled across the small dirt road toward the treeline. Spoiler alert, he had. Looked like the bastard had found it highly entertaining to boot. The guard held out a meaty hand, fingers made the 'gimme' motion as he spoke quiet, not wanting to alert the other guards.
"Give me the jewel, and you can go."
The amusement of watching the waddle toward the trees had been enough that the guard was reluctant to see the young thief swing from a rope at the end of the day. However, they did need the jewel back. Augie let out a groan, and the cloth over his mouth moved as he talked, but no sound would be heard. One hand delved into the inside of his tunic, and Augie rummaged around for a moment. Several silent movements of his mouth passed before the thief placed the cold gem in the guard's palm.
"See? Not that hard. You should try.... wait. HEY!"
The guard had taken a look at the gem in the palm of his hand, only to realize it was not the Leaf of the World, but a round piece of stained glass. With a frown, and words on his lips, he had looked back to the thief, only to catch the tail end as Augie darted into the trees. The guard quickly pocketed the piece of glass as others came to see what was going on. With a small twinge of regret, he gestured toward the spot he last spied the thief, though not as fast as he likely should have.
"He went into the trees!"
The guards called to the rest, some drew their swords, and followed in the direction they were shown. Augie was already high tailing it out of there. He moved the mask into his mouth, making it more of a gag to keep it in place. Then he leaned forward until his fingers brushed the ground, and Augie used another trick up his sleeve. Clothing and skin gave way to fur as bones rearranged into a different shape. A distinctly non-human form, it was smaller, faster, and would give him a greater chance of a successful escape. The fox knew these woods like the back of his ... paw.
See, Augie wasn't completely human.
Leira "Walks-Less-Travelled-Paths"
Rook (currently in 1x1)
Leviathan "Levi" Black
Greetings and Salutations!
I am looking for a 1x1 RP for the forums. I have certain characters who are currently louder than others and need to get their words out. I have roleplayed for more years than I care to count, most of it has been through writing in chat rooms, e-mail, other forums. All of my usual haunts seem to have dried up. Then lo, and behold, I find this lovely site and the characters in my head have grown quite excited. I was going to limit myself to two at the moment, but I have missed writing, so any of the ones listed below are available for writing. I can double up to a point if more than one is interested in a character.
I strongly prefer supernatural stories, especially shifters. The world itself can be fantasy, urban, or more. I'm not too fond of sci-fi (but with the right story it's possible), or westerns, or historical (as I couldn't care less about lore and history). I tend to just let the characters in my head get their words out, which may be a mish-mash of styles, etc.
What I really want, is to tell a great story. One I can look back and read years later, and still laugh, cry, or be surprised.
I can pretty much guarantee at least one post a week. It will likely be more, unless the voices want to sleep in for a little while. Everyone has good and bad days, but I'll let you know if I am needing a couple of extra days to respond. I am lucky to still be working in this not so lovely 'Rona time, but I am working from home. Some posts will be lengthy, some may only be a couple of paragraphs, but never, ever only a couple of sentences. I am not writing with any romance planned, however, if it happens along the way, it happens. Personality compatibility matters more than gender matching.
Below are the loudest characters in my head. The samples below do not have to represent the same world/realm/etc as what we wind up writing. I'm game to discuss settings and plot ideas. I will likely also slip in a couple NPCs here and there to keep things more robust. Also, I prefer using realistic character photos, or give me a great description.
I do request a writing sample, either in a reply, or in DMs, preferably in response to whichever character you would like to write with, or hit me up with a new suggestion and I will see if I have a voice who will fit.
If, at any time, you need to drop out, I ask for a quick message. I don't mind it happening, but being left in limbo is no bueno, and winds up just being frustrating. If you have any questions, ask away!
Currently Loud:
Augie "Duckie" Wells (currently in 1x1)
Augie "Duckie" Wells
Appearance: Augie is vertically challenged any way you look at it, standing at barely 5'2", with a weight on the lean side of the fence. He prefers to consider himself 'wiry' instead of thin. His hair is a mousey brown, with a ragged cut, the result of hacking on it himself when it gets annoyingly long. His eyes are a light blue with a hint of a golden circle on the outside edges. Augie enjoys clothing just loose enough to have a wide freedom of movement. Also, it hides just how thin he really is. His favorite is a hooded shirt/tunic with secret pockets sewn on the inside.
Abilities: Augie is a shifter of the werefox variety. He is agile, when he isn't tripping over his own feet. And quick, when he isn't running into something because he chose to look over a shoulder at the most inconvenient time. Augie has great eyesight, and can see partially in the dark. His hearing is above average, able to hear a mouse just under the ground's surface. Helps when he needs a quick snack.
Sample Writing:
Nearby, dry leaves of autumn crunched underneath a heavy boot. Augie held as still as one of the statues he'd often talk to in the cemetery where he was currently taking up residence. Both of his hands were pressed tightly over his mouth. For extra precaution, he also bit down on his tongue, literally. The faint, coppery taste of blood was proof, a taste he didn't particularly like. It worked though, the footsteps moved away from his hiding place among the shrubbery. When they spoke, it sounded like they were about to be on the far side of the cemetery.
"Brat's around here somewhere. Don't forget to check any open crypts. The prince will have our heads if we can't get the jewel back and I assure you, your heads will roll before mine!"
'They' were the crown's royal guards, and the jewel they were searching for was a dashingly good looking emerald carefully cut into the shape of a leaf. The 'Leaf of the World' was the full name of the beauty tucked safely away in a secret pocket of his tunic. With any luck, that's exactly where it would stay. Augie waited another full minute as he listened intently for any of the other guards. When all the sounds came from the other side of the cemetery, he chanced a peek. The coast was clear, the time was upon him, time to get the ever loving heck out of North Hills Cemetery.
Augie maintained the crouch as he slowly crept out of the shrubbery and toward the surrounding woods. One hand slipped away from his mouth to tug up the cloth tied around his neck. Augie hadn't had the time to don the magically enchanted mouth gag before the guards made their appearance, and had to improvise. He knew it would be difficult at best, making a getaway with hands held over his mouth. Truth be told, the taste of blood from biting his tongue had started to turn his stomach. He just had to slide the cloth into place before he made a sound.
See, Augie had a bit of a problem.
There was no filter between his head, and his mouth. If Augie thought it, his mouth said it, no matter what it was. If Augie thought one's choice of clothing lacked flair, he'd state as much. If he found one's smell too pungent, he let them know without batting an eye. If Augie knew a secret, the cat would be out of the bag faster than it was put into the bag. As one could imagine, this made life extremely difficult if one wasn't a hermit. And Augie was not. If asked the reason why, Augie couldn't say. He'd talk about a number of other things that popped into his head at the time, but the reason or rhyme for why, he didn't know. It was what it was, one hell of an inconvenience. It made his chosen profession of pilfering ten times more troublesome than it had to be. Though there were solutions, if one had coin to spare.
One such solution cost Augie a good year's worth of coin, baubles, and one I.O.U. favor the magic weaver could 'cash' in at any time. It was so worth the price, in his eyes. The piece of cloth was enchanted with a spell of silence. As long as it was either over his mouth, like a mask, or in his mouth, like a gag, nothing he said would be heard, not even by himself. The latter was somewhat irritating at times, not hearing his own words. However, prizes like the Leaf of the World made everything alright, assuming he could escape and keep the beauty.
Augie had just slipped the cloth up and over his mouth, when he felt a small tap-tap-tap to a shoulder, followed by a not so discreet clearing of the throat. Crouched still, he tilted his head upward and found one of the guards standing over him from behind. The man had a twist of a grin on his face, as if he had been following while the thief duck waddled across the small dirt road toward the treeline. Spoiler alert, he had. Looked like the bastard had found it highly entertaining to boot. The guard held out a meaty hand, fingers made the 'gimme' motion as he spoke quiet, not wanting to alert the other guards.
"Give me the jewel, and you can go."
The amusement of watching the waddle toward the trees had been enough that the guard was reluctant to see the young thief swing from a rope at the end of the day. However, they did need the jewel back. Augie let out a groan, and the cloth over his mouth moved as he talked, but no sound would be heard. One hand delved into the inside of his tunic, and Augie rummaged around for a moment. Several silent movements of his mouth passed before the thief placed the cold gem in the guard's palm.
"See? Not that hard. You should try.... wait. HEY!"
The guard had taken a look at the gem in the palm of his hand, only to realize it was not the Leaf of the World, but a round piece of stained glass. With a frown, and words on his lips, he had looked back to the thief, only to catch the tail end as Augie darted into the trees. The guard quickly pocketed the piece of glass as others came to see what was going on. With a small twinge of regret, he gestured toward the spot he last spied the thief, though not as fast as he likely should have.
"He went into the trees!"
The guards called to the rest, some drew their swords, and followed in the direction they were shown. Augie was already high tailing it out of there. He moved the mask into his mouth, making it more of a gag to keep it in place. Then he leaned forward until his fingers brushed the ground, and Augie used another trick up his sleeve. Clothing and skin gave way to fur as bones rearranged into a different shape. A distinctly non-human form, it was smaller, faster, and would give him a greater chance of a successful escape. The fox knew these woods like the back of his ... paw.
See, Augie wasn't completely human.
Leira "Walks-Less-Travelled-Paths"
Photo Model: Meredith Salenger
Photo Edit by: Out Of Words
Leira (Leer-ah) "Walks-Less-Travelled-Paths"
Appearance: Leira is on the tall side, standing about 5'7", with a visually proportionate weight. Hair is a dark brown, and usually about collarbone length, give or take an inch. Eyes are a pale white with a tinge of blue. If asked, she'll call them the color of a wintery moon. She favors comfortable clothing, which can greatly differ depending upon her state of mind. Well worn jeans are a common selection, along with a tank top, or short sleeve t-shirt. This is all topped off with a long sleeved button down shirt or flannel usually two sizes too big, so she can tug the ends over her hands throughout the day or night.
Abilities: Leira is a shapeshifter, a werewolf to be exact. She is roughly based on the World of Darkness: Werewolf the Apocalypse books, Silent Strider, Theurge. Her connection with the spirits is stronger than most, and it affects her, day and night. She sees spirits everywhere, whether or not they are actually there is anyone's guess. Could be, she's just a mentally instable werewolf, and all of the spirit communication is actually in her head. Regardless, if asked what she does, she would state, "I make things strong." She seems happy most of the time, so what's wrong with indulging her talking to the spirits?
Sample Writing:
The trees whispered their pains to her, creaking and groaning in the light breeze. Leaves rattled out their grievances, how they came out on a warm early spring day, only to be hit with an unexpected cold snap. Now they felt dry, withered and dying, if only she could help them. But the rain! Oh, the rain. The rain hummed in happiness, happy to be watering the ground, pleased to make puddles for ones such as her to jump in. The rain couldn't, or wouldn't, see a downside of what they did, falling down and coating everything with its watery joy. It was innocent like that, like her.
"You are good. You are strong. You are appreciated."
Leira murmured the soft praises, in a sing-song manner. Fingers of her right hand moved lightly to pat the bark of a groaning tree in passing. Brushed against a low hanging leaf as it waved for her attention. She captured some droplets of rain on her palm and whispered to it before licking it away with a light giggle. Everything just wanted to be appreciated, to be recognized, to be seen. Leira saw, she saw everything. More than that, she saw, and she made things stronger.
"You are loved."
Leira knew, in the deepest recesses of her heart and soul, she was making things strong. By recognizing the jobs the spirits were doing, by telling them how someone appreciated all their hard work, by reaffirming their chosen purpose, the spirits stood a little bit taller. They 'puffed out their chests', they found a measure of joy in what they were doing. By standing taller, they were, in effect, stronger. Leira made things stronger.
Her days and nights were never boring, but very rarely quiet. She didn't just see, she heard them, too. So many spirits, all wanting a chance to tell their story. They clamored to grab her attention once they realized she could hear them. It made carrying on a conversation with others very difficult, but others usually didn't want her attention. Not once they noticed her 'peculiarities', her acute strangeness of being. Most of the time, Leira was okay with that, she understood.
"You are doing such a great job. I appreciate you."
Some days, it hurt. Leira couldn't say why her chest felt tight, or water trailed down her cheeks when it wasn't even raining. It shouldn't bother her, her job was to tend the spirits, not try to be 'normal' in the eyes of the humans, or other shifters. She was exactly what she was meant to be. Leira had to believe such with her whole being, because otherwise it meant she wasn't walking the path meant for her. And that would mean she was more lost than even Leira knew. Then again, maybe, she just wanted to be appreciated once in a while.
Maybe, Leira needed to be made stronger, too.
Photo Edit by: Out Of Words
Original Photo:
Appearance: Leira is on the tall side, standing about 5'7", with a visually proportionate weight. Hair is a dark brown, and usually about collarbone length, give or take an inch. Eyes are a pale white with a tinge of blue. If asked, she'll call them the color of a wintery moon. She favors comfortable clothing, which can greatly differ depending upon her state of mind. Well worn jeans are a common selection, along with a tank top, or short sleeve t-shirt. This is all topped off with a long sleeved button down shirt or flannel usually two sizes too big, so she can tug the ends over her hands throughout the day or night.
Abilities: Leira is a shapeshifter, a werewolf to be exact. She is roughly based on the World of Darkness: Werewolf the Apocalypse books, Silent Strider, Theurge. Her connection with the spirits is stronger than most, and it affects her, day and night. She sees spirits everywhere, whether or not they are actually there is anyone's guess. Could be, she's just a mentally instable werewolf, and all of the spirit communication is actually in her head. Regardless, if asked what she does, she would state, "I make things strong." She seems happy most of the time, so what's wrong with indulging her talking to the spirits?
Sample Writing:
The trees whispered their pains to her, creaking and groaning in the light breeze. Leaves rattled out their grievances, how they came out on a warm early spring day, only to be hit with an unexpected cold snap. Now they felt dry, withered and dying, if only she could help them. But the rain! Oh, the rain. The rain hummed in happiness, happy to be watering the ground, pleased to make puddles for ones such as her to jump in. The rain couldn't, or wouldn't, see a downside of what they did, falling down and coating everything with its watery joy. It was innocent like that, like her.
"You are good. You are strong. You are appreciated."
Leira murmured the soft praises, in a sing-song manner. Fingers of her right hand moved lightly to pat the bark of a groaning tree in passing. Brushed against a low hanging leaf as it waved for her attention. She captured some droplets of rain on her palm and whispered to it before licking it away with a light giggle. Everything just wanted to be appreciated, to be recognized, to be seen. Leira saw, she saw everything. More than that, she saw, and she made things stronger.
"You are loved."
Leira knew, in the deepest recesses of her heart and soul, she was making things strong. By recognizing the jobs the spirits were doing, by telling them how someone appreciated all their hard work, by reaffirming their chosen purpose, the spirits stood a little bit taller. They 'puffed out their chests', they found a measure of joy in what they were doing. By standing taller, they were, in effect, stronger. Leira made things stronger.
Her days and nights were never boring, but very rarely quiet. She didn't just see, she heard them, too. So many spirits, all wanting a chance to tell their story. They clamored to grab her attention once they realized she could hear them. It made carrying on a conversation with others very difficult, but others usually didn't want her attention. Not once they noticed her 'peculiarities', her acute strangeness of being. Most of the time, Leira was okay with that, she understood.
"You are doing such a great job. I appreciate you."
Some days, it hurt. Leira couldn't say why her chest felt tight, or water trailed down her cheeks when it wasn't even raining. It shouldn't bother her, her job was to tend the spirits, not try to be 'normal' in the eyes of the humans, or other shifters. She was exactly what she was meant to be. Leira had to believe such with her whole being, because otherwise it meant she wasn't walking the path meant for her. And that would mean she was more lost than even Leira knew. Then again, maybe, she just wanted to be appreciated once in a while.
Maybe, Leira needed to be made stronger, too.
Rook (currently in 1x1)
Photo Model: Jonathan Brandis
Photo Edit by: Out of Words
Appearance: Rook is approximately 5'11", and while his weight looks proportionate, he has a heavier density than most. His hair is a mix of dark blonde and light brown hues, and his eyes are a steel blue. Rook's clothing is basic if he is dressing himself. Black shirt, black or blue jeans/pants, nothing too tight or restrictive.
Abilities: Rook is a gargoyle shifter. Purposefully created in the time of castles and dragons, to be a guardian and bodyguard for his creator. A creator who has long ago disappeared, leaving the gargoyle to figure out his existence on his own, and attempt to adapt to a world ever changing. Rook's human form is exactly like a human, just... dense. His gargoyle form is made of stone, and acts as his armor. He can glide, but he cannot fly, and can also see in the dark. In either form, Rook is able to communicate with anything made of rock and stone, and can use it to heal himself in his gargoyle form. If the rock is willing, Rook can also reshape it to his needs, though this is something rarely done.
Sample Writing:
It was gone.
They took his building, his perch, his home. In a matter of moments, the place he had lived for more decades than he could count, was reduced to broken rock and rubble. Rook hurt, physically and mentally. The stone had cried out, a cacophony of agony, louder to him than the blast itself. Talons pressed hard against his chest as Rook observed from several blocks away. Tears made paths down his cheeks and he wept for what was lost. Lost to him, lost to this ever changing world. The history, the stories, the life the stone had held, gone.
Life was a loose way to describe it, and maybe it wasn't truly gone. It depended upon what these humans made from the rubble, for stone wasn't ever truly alive, not in the way humans perceived. It was more of a collection of energy, fed to it from those living within its confines. The stronger the emotions, the clearer the stories were, the louder the vibrations became. It was magic in more than one sense of the word. Rook knew. Rook was the embodiment of such magic, made in a time pretty much long forgotten by the majority of humans. Did they even care? Did they know the effect they had on the world around them?
Sometimes the humans made 'zombies' of what had been great castles, or guardian rocks standing silent on the cliff. As humans spread, the damage in their wake was astounding. However, for as much destruction they created, humans were capable of remarkable feats. Some of the buildings built by their hands were magnificent beauties, and Rook found himself drawn, time and time again, to the cites, the urban sprawl. The tallest buildings were the best for gliding, or just watching the throng of ant sized people down below. They were always in such a rush, hurrying and scurrying this way and that. Rook didn't have the same concept of time, but he didn't understand a great deal when it came to humans and their lives.
Rook didn't care to continue ponder such things when the sunrise was so beautiful. On the tall buildings, the view was not obscured by the smog of the city. It was crisp, the air was clean, and the view without comparison. With a chittering growl, Rook perched on the corner of the skyscraper's roof, hands curled around the edge. The rock hummed softly in response to the sounds the gargoyle made, and they watched the sunrise together, while mourning the loss of the old building blocks away.
It was gone.
Photo Edit by: Out of Words
Rook
Appearance: Rook is approximately 5'11", and while his weight looks proportionate, he has a heavier density than most. His hair is a mix of dark blonde and light brown hues, and his eyes are a steel blue. Rook's clothing is basic if he is dressing himself. Black shirt, black or blue jeans/pants, nothing too tight or restrictive.
Abilities: Rook is a gargoyle shifter. Purposefully created in the time of castles and dragons, to be a guardian and bodyguard for his creator. A creator who has long ago disappeared, leaving the gargoyle to figure out his existence on his own, and attempt to adapt to a world ever changing. Rook's human form is exactly like a human, just... dense. His gargoyle form is made of stone, and acts as his armor. He can glide, but he cannot fly, and can also see in the dark. In either form, Rook is able to communicate with anything made of rock and stone, and can use it to heal himself in his gargoyle form. If the rock is willing, Rook can also reshape it to his needs, though this is something rarely done.
Sample Writing:
It was gone.
They took his building, his perch, his home. In a matter of moments, the place he had lived for more decades than he could count, was reduced to broken rock and rubble. Rook hurt, physically and mentally. The stone had cried out, a cacophony of agony, louder to him than the blast itself. Talons pressed hard against his chest as Rook observed from several blocks away. Tears made paths down his cheeks and he wept for what was lost. Lost to him, lost to this ever changing world. The history, the stories, the life the stone had held, gone.
Life was a loose way to describe it, and maybe it wasn't truly gone. It depended upon what these humans made from the rubble, for stone wasn't ever truly alive, not in the way humans perceived. It was more of a collection of energy, fed to it from those living within its confines. The stronger the emotions, the clearer the stories were, the louder the vibrations became. It was magic in more than one sense of the word. Rook knew. Rook was the embodiment of such magic, made in a time pretty much long forgotten by the majority of humans. Did they even care? Did they know the effect they had on the world around them?
Sometimes the humans made 'zombies' of what had been great castles, or guardian rocks standing silent on the cliff. As humans spread, the damage in their wake was astounding. However, for as much destruction they created, humans were capable of remarkable feats. Some of the buildings built by their hands were magnificent beauties, and Rook found himself drawn, time and time again, to the cites, the urban sprawl. The tallest buildings were the best for gliding, or just watching the throng of ant sized people down below. They were always in such a rush, hurrying and scurrying this way and that. Rook didn't have the same concept of time, but he didn't understand a great deal when it came to humans and their lives.
Rook didn't care to continue ponder such things when the sunrise was so beautiful. On the tall buildings, the view was not obscured by the smog of the city. It was crisp, the air was clean, and the view without comparison. With a chittering growl, Rook perched on the corner of the skyscraper's roof, hands curled around the edge. The rock hummed softly in response to the sounds the gargoyle made, and they watched the sunrise together, while mourning the loss of the old building blocks away.
It was gone.
Leviathan "Levi" Black
Photo Model: Jonny Lang
Photo Edit by: Out Of Words
Leviathan "Levi" Black
Appearance: Height: 5'2" | Weight: 111lbs | Hair: Blonde | Eyes: Green | Age: 20
Hair is usually kept just longer than chin length, parted in the middle, often partially covering his face. Two small upper canines/fangs, visible when he smiles.
Abilities: Levi is, in simple terms, a werecat. His feline form is a clouded leopard. Both forms are highly agile, and quick. He believes he is a great climber of trees in either form. As the clouded leopard, he can even hang upside down beneath large branches. His sense of smell and hearing is better than average.
Strengths: Agile, cat like reflexes, climbing, loyal, determined, sharp eyesight/hearing, hard worker
Weaknesses: Cat toys, kleptomaniac, poor grammar, stubborn, tunnel vision when upset, nosy, sensitive about height, tactile sensitivity, talks before he thinks
Writing Sample:
"Oh, you's fooking kidding me.."
Levi stared after the retreating woman in obvious shock and disbelief. His jaw hung open, his skin a touch paler than it usually was, and his body wasn't sure if it wanted to break out in a cold sweat, or piss himself. Thankfully it wasn't the latter. Levi could no longer hear the running footsteps, but he could hear the chains tethering his left wrist to the wall, keeping him from doing the exact same thing as the strange woman. He thought she was just a prisoner, like a normal prisoner type of person. Levi had come to this castle because, in his infinite stupidity, he was certain there would be riches inside for him to plunder.
Instead, he gets tricked into letting the woman go, and somehow agreeing to take her place. Bare moments after the words "Yeah, sure, okays" left his lips, the shackle had dropped from her wrist and instead was now bonded to him. Levi was in too much shock at the bomb she dropped on him after the fact to remember what the conversation was, and how he even came to say 'Yeah, sure, okays'.
The thing was, this was no regular castle. This wasn't even a little magic castle. This was THE mother fucking castle of castles. The one no one wanted to go to if they were in their right mind and had heard the stories. Supposed to be just a myth, legend, some fanciful children's boogeyman story. The castle he, in all his greedy arrogance, thought the treasure inside would keep him content and purring for many, many days to come. Yeah, that's right.
The fucking castle.
The one with the 'Beast' everyone as powerful as a deity was afraid of. And now, he was supposedly the guardian of this thing. And if the stories were true, after thirty days, he could choose to leave if he wanted. Oh, but only if he didn't mind the Beast getting free at the same time. Guess he could do what the woman did, and wait for some stupid sap to come in and trick them into switching places. You know, like he had. The sap. The stupid, stupid sap.
"Balls!"
Photo Edit by: Out Of Words
Appearance: Height: 5'2" | Weight: 111lbs | Hair: Blonde | Eyes: Green | Age: 20
Hair is usually kept just longer than chin length, parted in the middle, often partially covering his face. Two small upper canines/fangs, visible when he smiles.
Abilities: Levi is, in simple terms, a werecat. His feline form is a clouded leopard. Both forms are highly agile, and quick. He believes he is a great climber of trees in either form. As the clouded leopard, he can even hang upside down beneath large branches. His sense of smell and hearing is better than average.
Strengths: Agile, cat like reflexes, climbing, loyal, determined, sharp eyesight/hearing, hard worker
Weaknesses: Cat toys, kleptomaniac, poor grammar, stubborn, tunnel vision when upset, nosy, sensitive about height, tactile sensitivity, talks before he thinks
Writing Sample:
"Oh, you's fooking kidding me.."
Levi stared after the retreating woman in obvious shock and disbelief. His jaw hung open, his skin a touch paler than it usually was, and his body wasn't sure if it wanted to break out in a cold sweat, or piss himself. Thankfully it wasn't the latter. Levi could no longer hear the running footsteps, but he could hear the chains tethering his left wrist to the wall, keeping him from doing the exact same thing as the strange woman. He thought she was just a prisoner, like a normal prisoner type of person. Levi had come to this castle because, in his infinite stupidity, he was certain there would be riches inside for him to plunder.
Instead, he gets tricked into letting the woman go, and somehow agreeing to take her place. Bare moments after the words "Yeah, sure, okays" left his lips, the shackle had dropped from her wrist and instead was now bonded to him. Levi was in too much shock at the bomb she dropped on him after the fact to remember what the conversation was, and how he even came to say 'Yeah, sure, okays'.
The thing was, this was no regular castle. This wasn't even a little magic castle. This was THE mother fucking castle of castles. The one no one wanted to go to if they were in their right mind and had heard the stories. Supposed to be just a myth, legend, some fanciful children's boogeyman story. The castle he, in all his greedy arrogance, thought the treasure inside would keep him content and purring for many, many days to come. Yeah, that's right.
The fucking castle.
The one with the 'Beast' everyone as powerful as a deity was afraid of. And now, he was supposedly the guardian of this thing. And if the stories were true, after thirty days, he could choose to leave if he wanted. Oh, but only if he didn't mind the Beast getting free at the same time. Guess he could do what the woman did, and wait for some stupid sap to come in and trick them into switching places. You know, like he had. The sap. The stupid, stupid sap.
"Balls!"
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