OhGodOfWriting
Writing Addict
Here's where I'll keep a list of all of the thread RPs I've been in here, followed by my best non-intro writing samples from this site.
RPs
Mage-cops (first person present tense) : Modern - The Source
Survivors of trauma: Modern - Crosshairs
Time travelers: Futurisic - Timeline
Online cyber world: Futurisic - Pneumas Online
Aeronaut explorers: Tales of Ascalon I - The Wilds of Jassai
Post-Apocalyptic survival: Viral Fidgets
Steampunk pirates: Flower and Fox
Stone Age dinosaurs: Primordial [Paleolithic Era RP]
Samples
RPs
Mage-cops (first person present tense) : Modern - The Source
Survivors of trauma: Modern - Crosshairs
Time travelers: Futurisic - Timeline
Online cyber world: Futurisic - Pneumas Online
Aeronaut explorers: Tales of Ascalon I - The Wilds of Jassai
Post-Apocalyptic survival: Viral Fidgets
Steampunk pirates: Flower and Fox
Stone Age dinosaurs: Primordial [Paleolithic Era RP]
Samples
In the coming days, preparations for their departure firmed up more. As Collins better understood the nature of the princess' quest, he altered the crew as necessary. They couldn't have anyone who was too squeamish about violence, or anyone unwilling to follow Sono to their deaths, despite her lack of military expertise. The acting captain had enough military expertise for a nation, so he would do nicely.
Even though this man (one of the king's close personal friends and comrades) would be captaining the vessel, John was still concerned. The king and the queen were told the full plan upon their return. John half wanted to go with them, and half didn't think his daughters should be doing any such thing. It was the queen, Marie, who told him to buck up and let their girls be women.
They were both glad to hear that someone might be able to put Phax to rights, although the gist of why was less palatable. Phax wasn't shy about her newly added-on relationship with Dantes, but she acted as if they were friends with benefits. A lot of benefits. She touched and cuddled him in a puppyish way in front of practically anyone. Sometimes she would break out into shrieking giggles because Dantes accidentally triggered a tickle, which were hard to predict. She might be able to allow something perfectly fine, and then a seemingly random touch would make her unable to control her reaction.
John was O for two in the whole "not letting one's princess daughters fall for pirates" category. He wanted to have a man-to-man talk with Dantes (he somehow knew better than to even try it with Nash) but Phax sensed his intentions and headed him off. Rather than risk giving Phax the deserved opportunity to say something about how one year of accepting her didn't give him the right to try and parent her, he let it go. Collins assured him that it had all worked out for the best. If Phax hadn't fallen for Dantes, he wouldn't have known that Phax was ready for this. Besides, the shrieking giggles were good. It drew attention to their involvement, which would sell the grief better when the crew of the Fox supposedly died.
Phax wasn't very good at pretending grief, especially as she was so excited about blowing up a ship. She wanted to be on the fake pirate ship that shot the other fake pirate ship down, but Sono said no. It was too unwise, as the surviving fake pirate ship was actually going to keep up the act for awhile, and they couldn't risk having Phax on board. That was as close Phax and Sono had come to a true fight for quite some time, but it established the pecking order when it counted.
The girls wore black, the nation mourned the death of Sono's rescuer, and young women everywhere cried for days as their favorite sex symbol was snuffed out. Even Ewert was mourned, which Phax thought was going a bit far and Sono thought was respectful.
The prepared ship was now named "The Princess Revenge," although the public and private reasons for that were distinct. They were to set out supposedly in search of one type of revenge, but were actually going to be getting another. The dark nature of this quest lent itself well to some further pirate influence, as revenge-for-killing-a-lover missions were decidedly less noble for sweet princesses. They could believe this image for Phax, but it took a bit of faith in the bleak to accept this about their goddess, and it took their outrage for her loss in order for them to support it.
The Fox's crew's belongings (whatever they couldn't spare to put in storage) were smuggled onto the Revenge, along with Nash, Ewert, and Dantes. The Revenge's crew knew of these members, and if they connected the dots, they were wise enough for the present to let it alone.
Sono may have taken the whole pirate thing too far by bringing along her parrot, Percy. Nash would be happy to know that he would not be sharing Sono's chambers with the avian, as Percy liked to remain above deck. Rather than looking ridiculous, however, Sono looked the part with the parrot on her shoulder. Dressed in dark clothing edged in gold and decked out in weapons, she looked regal, dangerous, and bereaved. She was in a way, watching Blasa disappear behind them. Her dark hair was pulled back in preparation for the wind, worn in a high bun crossed with sticks. The first stick was her remaining jade hairpin, and the other was a onyx stick that didn't match it.
Phax was attired the same as ever, since her clothes were dark anyway, and this was what everyone expected from her. Also she threw a fit when a designer had tried to re-do her "look."
Sono turned around to survey the deck of her ship, seeing that everyone was hard at work except for her. The crew were busy with tasks, not standing around waxing nostalgic. Not even thinking past their next orders, let alone the vastness of what was in front of them. Sono got to experience how lonely leadership could be for the first time as she realized that all these people were orchestrated to do as she wished, and she wasn't fitting into anyone else's schedule of what she should do.
It was overwhelming, even for a princess.
Emily saw him catching the vision, and she smiled without calculation. Leaning forward, she slipped the portfolio into his lap. Ever the artist, she hovered as he turned through the pages. Though selected with incredible care, there was still something haphazard about the presentation. The pieces of paper were different sizes. She also didn't seem completely at ease with him touching them, as though she feared he might smear or get ash on them. Most important to her, though, was that he understood them, and that was what came across most in her behavior.
The opening drawing was a blurry noir pastel, the jewel tones rich but understated. It was of a man whose face was half-hidden behind a violin. The eyes showed his complete attention to his task, though the rest was vague. "That's my father," Emily explained. "Well, my father when he was young. You can see how I struggled to piece together a younger version of him. His eyes and the posture is the same, but there was a middleman between me and the rest of it," she smirked. The skin on his hands was not given much attention. What had her father's hands looked like without the encroaching of age spots, what had they looked like strong and supple? She didn't know, and to put another man's hands on him had felt wrong. But his love of the instrument was apparent, she had gotten that part right.
Virtuoso
Next came a startling painting of Verristowe's city streets at night. She made it look quite menacing, with dramatic angles and copious steam. The glance of a frightened and frightening beggar. She said nothing about this one, merely twisting her fingers in her skirt nervously as she sat at the extreme edge of her chair, lifted as much as she could to look at what he was looking at. Her brown eyes glanced up now and then to his face. She was good with landscapes, but she didn't keep emotion out of them. She was sometimes criticized for this, for not simply recreating what she saw without personal input.
Street Symphony
Then there were homeless street waifs in charcoal, no detail exaggerated, not beautified. They did not implore with saucer-like glimmering eyes. Instead they looked away, intent on their slice of life. She showed the viewer what the world was to them, picking through trash, bare feet wrapped in rags.
Finally she showed the slums. "That's the junkyard beyond the river," she piped up, eager to have something at last to say as her effort and heart were laid bare before him. The best part of this one was the translucent depth of the rosy mist that obscured the city in the background.
View attachment 218875
From there, things transitioned into easier ground with a portrait of a horse, turning to look at her. There was clearly a close relationship between she and it, the way the powerful stallion looked at her with trust and affection. "Tito," she explained, and then smiled, knowing how silly she sounded. "My mount." He didn't look like the horse of a gentlewoman, though the proud beast didn't seem to know that.
.:Black Horse:.
Then there was a little watercolor done hastily on a scrap of paper, or an orange and white cat curled up. "That's just an example of what I can do quickly with watercolors." She was embarrassed at the feminine nature of the capture, that it might show some kind of staid, curled-up lifestyle.
A little animal
She encouraged his fingers onward with a gesture of her own, onto pencil sketches of humans and clothes, shown realistically while simultaneously exposing their ridiculousness. They were quite detailed, although she said, "I do those in my notebook when I'm out and about. Have to do it when no one can see, so they're very fast. That might be the sort of references I might do while out on adventure, with some swabs of color so that I remember for later, to finish. If I haven't got time to sit down and do a full drawing. I can work off-the-cuff, as it were."
Hatter: ship on the sea hat
Even though this man (one of the king's close personal friends and comrades) would be captaining the vessel, John was still concerned. The king and the queen were told the full plan upon their return. John half wanted to go with them, and half didn't think his daughters should be doing any such thing. It was the queen, Marie, who told him to buck up and let their girls be women.
They were both glad to hear that someone might be able to put Phax to rights, although the gist of why was less palatable. Phax wasn't shy about her newly added-on relationship with Dantes, but she acted as if they were friends with benefits. A lot of benefits. She touched and cuddled him in a puppyish way in front of practically anyone. Sometimes she would break out into shrieking giggles because Dantes accidentally triggered a tickle, which were hard to predict. She might be able to allow something perfectly fine, and then a seemingly random touch would make her unable to control her reaction.
John was O for two in the whole "not letting one's princess daughters fall for pirates" category. He wanted to have a man-to-man talk with Dantes (he somehow knew better than to even try it with Nash) but Phax sensed his intentions and headed him off. Rather than risk giving Phax the deserved opportunity to say something about how one year of accepting her didn't give him the right to try and parent her, he let it go. Collins assured him that it had all worked out for the best. If Phax hadn't fallen for Dantes, he wouldn't have known that Phax was ready for this. Besides, the shrieking giggles were good. It drew attention to their involvement, which would sell the grief better when the crew of the Fox supposedly died.
Phax wasn't very good at pretending grief, especially as she was so excited about blowing up a ship. She wanted to be on the fake pirate ship that shot the other fake pirate ship down, but Sono said no. It was too unwise, as the surviving fake pirate ship was actually going to keep up the act for awhile, and they couldn't risk having Phax on board. That was as close Phax and Sono had come to a true fight for quite some time, but it established the pecking order when it counted.
The girls wore black, the nation mourned the death of Sono's rescuer, and young women everywhere cried for days as their favorite sex symbol was snuffed out. Even Ewert was mourned, which Phax thought was going a bit far and Sono thought was respectful.
The prepared ship was now named "The Princess Revenge," although the public and private reasons for that were distinct. They were to set out supposedly in search of one type of revenge, but were actually going to be getting another. The dark nature of this quest lent itself well to some further pirate influence, as revenge-for-killing-a-lover missions were decidedly less noble for sweet princesses. They could believe this image for Phax, but it took a bit of faith in the bleak to accept this about their goddess, and it took their outrage for her loss in order for them to support it.
The Fox's crew's belongings (whatever they couldn't spare to put in storage) were smuggled onto the Revenge, along with Nash, Ewert, and Dantes. The Revenge's crew knew of these members, and if they connected the dots, they were wise enough for the present to let it alone.
Sono may have taken the whole pirate thing too far by bringing along her parrot, Percy. Nash would be happy to know that he would not be sharing Sono's chambers with the avian, as Percy liked to remain above deck. Rather than looking ridiculous, however, Sono looked the part with the parrot on her shoulder. Dressed in dark clothing edged in gold and decked out in weapons, she looked regal, dangerous, and bereaved. She was in a way, watching Blasa disappear behind them. Her dark hair was pulled back in preparation for the wind, worn in a high bun crossed with sticks. The first stick was her remaining jade hairpin, and the other was a onyx stick that didn't match it.
Phax was attired the same as ever, since her clothes were dark anyway, and this was what everyone expected from her. Also she threw a fit when a designer had tried to re-do her "look."
Sono turned around to survey the deck of her ship, seeing that everyone was hard at work except for her. The crew were busy with tasks, not standing around waxing nostalgic. Not even thinking past their next orders, let alone the vastness of what was in front of them. Sono got to experience how lonely leadership could be for the first time as she realized that all these people were orchestrated to do as she wished, and she wasn't fitting into anyone else's schedule of what she should do.
It was overwhelming, even for a princess.
Emily saw him catching the vision, and she smiled without calculation. Leaning forward, she slipped the portfolio into his lap. Ever the artist, she hovered as he turned through the pages. Though selected with incredible care, there was still something haphazard about the presentation. The pieces of paper were different sizes. She also didn't seem completely at ease with him touching them, as though she feared he might smear or get ash on them. Most important to her, though, was that he understood them, and that was what came across most in her behavior.
The opening drawing was a blurry noir pastel, the jewel tones rich but understated. It was of a man whose face was half-hidden behind a violin. The eyes showed his complete attention to his task, though the rest was vague. "That's my father," Emily explained. "Well, my father when he was young. You can see how I struggled to piece together a younger version of him. His eyes and the posture is the same, but there was a middleman between me and the rest of it," she smirked. The skin on his hands was not given much attention. What had her father's hands looked like without the encroaching of age spots, what had they looked like strong and supple? She didn't know, and to put another man's hands on him had felt wrong. But his love of the instrument was apparent, she had gotten that part right.
Virtuoso
Next came a startling painting of Verristowe's city streets at night. She made it look quite menacing, with dramatic angles and copious steam. The glance of a frightened and frightening beggar. She said nothing about this one, merely twisting her fingers in her skirt nervously as she sat at the extreme edge of her chair, lifted as much as she could to look at what he was looking at. Her brown eyes glanced up now and then to his face. She was good with landscapes, but she didn't keep emotion out of them. She was sometimes criticized for this, for not simply recreating what she saw without personal input.
Street Symphony
Then there were homeless street waifs in charcoal, no detail exaggerated, not beautified. They did not implore with saucer-like glimmering eyes. Instead they looked away, intent on their slice of life. She showed the viewer what the world was to them, picking through trash, bare feet wrapped in rags.
Finally she showed the slums. "That's the junkyard beyond the river," she piped up, eager to have something at last to say as her effort and heart were laid bare before him. The best part of this one was the translucent depth of the rosy mist that obscured the city in the background.
View attachment 218875
From there, things transitioned into easier ground with a portrait of a horse, turning to look at her. There was clearly a close relationship between she and it, the way the powerful stallion looked at her with trust and affection. "Tito," she explained, and then smiled, knowing how silly she sounded. "My mount." He didn't look like the horse of a gentlewoman, though the proud beast didn't seem to know that.
.:Black Horse:.
Then there was a little watercolor done hastily on a scrap of paper, or an orange and white cat curled up. "That's just an example of what I can do quickly with watercolors." She was embarrassed at the feminine nature of the capture, that it might show some kind of staid, curled-up lifestyle.
A little animal
She encouraged his fingers onward with a gesture of her own, onto pencil sketches of humans and clothes, shown realistically while simultaneously exposing their ridiculousness. They were quite detailed, although she said, "I do those in my notebook when I'm out and about. Have to do it when no one can see, so they're very fast. That might be the sort of references I might do while out on adventure, with some swabs of color so that I remember for later, to finish. If I haven't got time to sit down and do a full drawing. I can work off-the-cuff, as it were."
Hatter: ship on the sea hat
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