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Also any other characters of mine who were in here before are gone
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Um what the heck my thingy disappeared
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Alright, I’m adding three characters instead of two. They just aren’t the same without the others. Here’s the physical descriptions:
Jack: 17, white blond fluffy hair that covers his eyes, tan skin, linen pants and shirt, thin wool vest, sandals
Cody: 15, really fluffy hair, long droopy pointed ears, freckles, cute button nose, button down shirt, oversized blue sweater
Kate: 13, two thick sandy brown braids and bangs over her eyes, freckles, overalls and a white shirt
All of them have two tiny horns on their heads, though Cody’s are hidden by his hair, they all have their hair covering their eyes, and also they all talk in some kind of country accent.
Also, as a disclaimer, Cody isn’t really fully my character. My friend came up with him and I came up with the other two.
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Jack, Cody, and Kate
The Celby siblings stood facing each other in a cramped stone closet, lit only by the light coming in from underneath a splintered wooden door. The air was musty and smelled vaguely of soap.
“What in the devil- ”
“Jack. Language.”
“Sorry. But where are we?”
Cody scratched the back of his neck and mumbled, “I thought one of you two would know.”
Jack pushed a mop out of the way and found his shepherd’s crook leaning next to a straw broom.
“Kate. Go look outside.” he said.
“Don’t wanna.” Kate retorted, “You look.”
“I’m your elder. Do as I say.”
“I’m your younger. Do as I say.”
“That don’t even make sense, Kate.”
Kate crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out. Jack bristled. Cody jumped in, fearing that the fight would just get worse from there.
“Hold on. I’ll go look.”
Cody walked to the door and slowly creaked it open. It opened to a long stone hallway. He looked to the left. Nothing but the dust swirling in shafts of sunlight. Then he looked right… and met a pair of eyes.
He squeaked and quickly shut the door. He squeaked again as the door slammed much louder than he intended.
He then turned to his siblings, panicking, and whispered, “There’s someone outside and he saw me.”
(The person in the hall can be anyone who wants to meet them)
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
There we go.
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
I haven’t been active in the castle in a while either. It’s kinda been dead. I don’t even know when the last time I RPed in here lol XD
If no one else wants to I could have one of my new characters meet yours? I’m just barely coming up with their design so they really need to be expanded on 😅
#HugRikerSquad
@lightoverdarkness6 Yeah that sounds great!
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
@Godlyfantasy12 @lightoverdarkness6
Umm, I am not sure where we left off yeah, but I’m sure we can figure something out!
Do either of you want to RP first? Because if not then I definitely can
Love is patient. Love is kind. Love never fails. -1 Corinthians
And guess what? His is eternal (:- Rank: Chosen One
- Total Posts: 8156
Jakob
Jakob’s fists clenched even tighter, and he stepped close to Sebastian, towering over the boy. “Excuse me!? I seriously doubt you know ANYTHING about the kinds of things we’ve been through! Do you somehow think you’re the one who knows about everything around here!? I will do everything in my power to hurt the people that hurt-!”
“Jakob…” Reuben whispered, bluish-green eyes full of concern.
Jakob ignored him, still glaring at Seb.
“…And don’t pretend you know anything about what we’ve been through, got it?”
(Leo’s just over there staying out of this 😅)
@freedomwriter76 @godlyfantasy12
Sebastian
Seb’s eyebrows raised even further, until they disappeared into his bangs entirely. “You obviously cannot pick up on nonverbal cues.”
Jakob appeared so livid at the unfazed look on the boy’s face, that his brothers shifted closer, silently pleading for peace.
Seb opened his mouth a few times as if considering, gave a childlike sigh, then straightened his collar again.
“Here’s the thing… Jakob, was it? Good. So… Our upbringings were starkly different, I’m sure.”
He gestured faintly with his hands here and there, admiring them in the light. “After all, your birth mother didn’t manipulate your societal image to her own advantage, practically advertising your entire childhood in front of the world as a sob story. Nor were you given your first shotgun at the age of four, in case your dad’s friends decided you were crying too loud. Nor were you raised in an environment where psychopathy was the cool new trend. Nor was your father a mass murderer, who both saved your life and then attempted to end it fifteen years later, on a total, unprecedented whim.”
His voice began to roughen at that, and his eyes glowed softly. But he still smiled.
“You don’t scare me, because nothing scares me anymore. I laugh. I laugh.”
And he did.
Then went back to admiring his golden cuff links.
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper OOOOOOHHHH SNAAAAAAAP! *shoves chocolate in ma mouth* @freedomwriter76
BRUUUH SEEEB 😭
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebLOL, he’s mostly past the angst by this point, so he’s like, okay fine I might as well see how much I can surprise them MWAHAHAHA XDXD
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper @freedomwriter76
Freedom which of the bois are in this little group?
Clements’ knees grind into the dirty floor. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the sound of voices blending with the echoes of footsteps. His hand instinctively rests on the dagger to his side as he stands, taking a defensive posture. He grips a ornate banister, still adjusting to his surroundings.
Where am I?
Clement shakes the sleep from his eyes. He slowly wanders the aged marble floors, carefully stepping around the shattered tiles. A large hole through the roof illuminates parts of the glassy floors, casting his shadow long down the hallway. An evening gust blows through a large window to his left, blowing rain into his weathered brown hair. Clement sighs, brushing a hand through it roughly to right it. Rain sweeps through the window, catching in his beard. Clement runs past the window, stopping at the edge of a corner as voices sound around a corner.
“Here’s the thing… Jakob, was it? Good. So… Our upbringings were starkly different, I’m sure.”
He raises an eyebrow. Clement listens to the rest of the boy’s monologue, using the extra time to make sure all his travel items are stashed neatly away in his backpack or on his person.
“After all, your birth mother didn’t manipulate your societal image to her own advantage, practically advertising your entire childhood in front of the world as a sob story. Nor were you given your first shotgun at the age of four, in case your dad’s friends decided you were crying too loud. Nor were you raised in an environment where psychopathy was the cool new trend. Nor was your father a mass murderer, who both saved your life and then attempted to end it fifteen years later, on a total, unprecedented whim.”
Man, that’s rough.
Clement shrugs.
“You don’t scare me, because nothing scares me anymore. I laugh. I laugh.”
Clement smiles at the strange statements, nearly laughing along himself with the strange boy. He stops himself, having already decided to take a liking to the boy, who seemed to have a upbringing much more strange than his own. Clement saunters over to the small group, walking slowly as if unsure. He takes his time, eyes roving the facial features of the group of boys. Some tall, and then the short, strange boy who was speaking before. His facial expression remains stiff, as if unmoved by the extreme terror of what he had just recited to the group. His eyebrow twitches with anger.
“Hey, I think I’m lost, does anyone know where we are?” Clement assumes an innocent expression, hoping his choice of compliant behavior was the right one. He rubs the back of his neck nervously.
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
@mineralizedwritings @whalekeeper @freedomwriter76
“After all, your birth mother didn’t manipulate your societal image to her own advantage, practically advertising your entire childhood in front of the world as a sob story. Nor were you given your first shotgun at the age of four, in case your dad’s friends decided you were crying too loud. Nor were you raised in an environment where psychopathy was the cool new trend. Nor was your father a mass murderer, who both saved your life and then attempted to end it fifteen years later, on a total, unprecedented whim.”
Yeesh….rough life….
Sounds like a couple of my
stolenborrowed charries lolWhere'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
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