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Thank you!! Sebastian has always been a signature of my imagination… since like, four years ago? One of those charries you just can’t change, because of the nostalgia 😛
#ProtectAdolinKholin
@whalekeeper Nice pictures!
@smiley @euodia-vision @esther-c @godlyfantasy12 @koshka @mineralizedwritingsOkay!
I still don’t know who I’ll include in here, so I want you to choose. I have too many charries I’d love to be……
So would you rather see a character you already know, or a completely new one? I have one who might work well with this story, but I want your opinion on it.
"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
What one would be the funnest to write as a prince?
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkI think it’d be cool to meet a new character!
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
@keilah-h @euodia-vision @esther-c @godlyfantasy12 @koshka @mineralizedwritings @whalekeeper
so here’s my RP for Edmund,
He’s my fave XD
Edmund
Rebecca looked at me, this was a goodbye. just another goodbye in our tragic lives.
“I’m going to miss you,” Rebecca said quietly like she wasn’t just talking to me. More like everyone she’d ever lost.
“Me too,”
We both avoided eye contact, we were both holding back tears.
“Just don’t let them change you, please,” Rebecca said it like she was joking but I knew she wasn’t.
“I won’t,” I grinned. “I’ll still be just as mischievous as the time I left,”
Rebecca smiled. “I’m surprised Steve didn’t just ship you off to school before.”
I chuckled, but my face slowly saddened. “I really miss him,”
Rebecca’s voice quivered a little. “It doesn’t seem fair, that we have to go off to school only a few weeks after their deaths.”
“Has anything about this life seemed fair?”
we both went silent again.
“Rebecca?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s okay to cry you know,” I saw her pain,
Rebecca lowered her head, and then finally looked up to show tears rolling down her face.
“Why do you have to leave?” Rebecca let out a sob, “Why did any of them have to leave?”
“I… don’t know,” I put my arms around Rebecca, her tears dampening my shirt.
I didn’t want to leave
I didn’t want to hang out with some rich snobs
I wanted to stay here
with Rebecca
I wanted my brother back
I wanted my parents back
I wanted them all back!
~*~
The school was giant and way larger than I had expected, but truthfully I wanted to go back. I didn’t want to be here, and I didn’t want Rebecca in some horrible boarding school.
I walked into the entrance of the school, it looked even bigger on the inside.
But if they thought they were going to teach me manors and how to act rich than they were wrong. I was a gentleman, and almost everyone liked me. So what was the point of this school? Steve didn’t have to go, so why should I?
Do me a favor…. Tell Cress I meant it
-ThorneI am changing their story a bit from what it is in the book, and I’ll be leaving most of it to be explained in the RPs.
Ivan the Usurper has never placed much distinction between his sons beyond court and is sending both the elder two brothers to be the Korol after him.
Nikolai Ivanovich Korolski
Born the eldest son of triplet brothers, Nikolai stands first in line to his father’s stolen throne. In order to fullfil ancient law he has just married and, although longing since childhood to please his distant parents, he is beginning to see that perhaps they aren’t people to emulate.
Description
17 years old. Thick, layered silver and black hair cut like Janner Wingfeather’s (if that makes sense). Silver blue eyes, tall nose, slightly tilted eyes (like a wolf’s). Tall, over 6’6″.
Wears a large saphire set in a silver band around his forehead which marks him as the heir prince, and a beautiful but battle ready sword. Clothing often made of blue or white silk, and cloth of silver.
Timur Ivanovich Korolski
Forever known as the second born, as the green eyed prince, Timur has long harbored a deep-rooted jealousy for his older brother. He takes much after his father in looks as well as temperament. He will succeed to the throne–no matter what he has to take.
Description
17 years of age. Dark brown hair cut just above his shoulders. Tilted Green-hazel eyes, tall nose. Tall, over 6’6″.
Wears silks and cloth of gold, heavily embroidered and bejeweled cuffs and collars (pushing the limits that he can legally wear). Carries a long sheathed blade under his coat.
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkHe’s not dead…
….yet.
Sorry, I couldn’t help it. XD He’s viewed as being very important, as the youngest. He grew up running the streets and following the servants around. His father rarely remembers he exists and thus didn’t send him. I may put a description of him in later, but I think Niki will describe him.
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkOooh, did you have a lot of fun? Sure sounds like it 😉 You must showeth us his backstory…
*sighs* I did, I did… maybe a little too much fun.
it isn’t even that exciting… 😂
But you SHALL see it!
I rolled the log over and underneath was a tiny little stick and I was like, "That log had a child
Newbie!
I rolled the log over and underneath was a tiny little stick and I was like, "That log had a child
Heads up: I’m going to make Nikolai engaged instead of married. =)
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkHi! Here’s Cal’s POV!
So first of all, just to get this out of the way:
– CONTENT WARNING: Animal abuse and maybe death, child kidnapping, kind-of violence –
I don’t usually have depressing topics and stuff in my projects anymore, unless it’s relevant to a specific situation that has to happen. (So for anyone who might be sensitive.)
But this RP is gonna be way more depressed than say, Marcel or Seb’s. So keep that in mind, please. I don’t want anyone to be upset or disturbed by this writing.
And also keep in mind, Cal may be rescued in this AU. (A bit of a challenge for those who get involved 😉 )
Second of all… The reason it is midnight in this RP is because Cal was smuggled into the school the night before, so no one would know.
Third, I am sorry this is so long XD
Calvin
Cal wanted to cry.
He wanted to wail, gnash his teeth, beat against the glass of the train window – tell the shadows of people dashing away outside he was here, and he was not supposed to be here.
He burrowed his face into his sweater, letting the lamp lights flit past in silence.
In the seat in front of him, a figure, draped in the hooded robe of an obscure Synodian religion, lay on his side, like a pile of flung clothing.
The shadowy being held a tiny object close to their chest. It was a creature, in between a mouse and a mink, with locks of golden fur flashing in the spasms of light.
At every flash, the little creature was curled tighter, or looser.
It was trying to escape.
Cal reached out a gentle hand, sheathed in soft blue yarn, and stroked its quivering fur. Then put his chin on his knees, and hugged himself, blue flecked eyes watering.
Whenever he saw himself in the mirror now, his once warm orange aura had changed – changed to a sad, ancient violet. If he had been raised somewhere else, perhaps with his birth mother, that might have been normal. But it was being pulled out of his veins by force, by the formless men who wished to make him royal.
Blue. Blue as the jeweled diadem, tangled in his starling hair.
The train rattled on.
Midnight’s fingers wrapped around him. His suitcases, under his cushioned bench. Midnight pressed against his eyes, urging him to fall asleep, curled up like a little child.
Behind him, somewhere, was home. And home was a fuzzy form now, hidden away, fading away.
His father and brothers, sending flickering laughter up like the flames of a fire. Marcel’s stern, adoring eyes. His mother, enfolding him in love, giving him a hot cup of chocolate and telling him – no matter how different they looked, no matter if he was born a Vinlin stranger – he would be her baby forever.
He wanted to cry.
But a Lordling does not cry.
The movement outside slowed and fell away into the night. Gears eased and shifted. The train stopped. Windows towered outside the window, both dark and lit by candlelight.
The school.
The small animal in the cloaked figure’s arms quivered a little more, and disappeared with a puff of dust. Cal wasn’t sure if it had escaped, or if its essence had been absorbed.
Either way, the figure sat up swiftly. It contemplated the child – a strange mixture of Roshon and Vinlin power – then bowed its head, still in silence.
Cal let the storm writhe in his face. He tore off his diadem and threw it to the floor. It bounced off under a seat.
The figure’s head turned as slow as the hour hand on a clock, and stared at the glittering diadem. It said nothing.
Cal panted, tears streaming over his warm, bronzed cheeks. “Please, please listen. I am not your Lordling. Please… Why don’t you understand…”
He tried, as he had a million times, to find emotion under the hood. But he only found shadows, tied together with a distant, complicated intelligence. Sewn together with the fabric of evil, he supposed.
But this was no time for poetry. This was time for escape.
Cal bolted.
In a flash, the figure stood, clawed sleeves outstretched, grasping the armrests.
Cal banged his shoulder against the train door, and twisted the handle, jarring his wrists against the cold, hard metal. He screamed for help, desperately clinging to the bars on the compartment wall, even as he felt his arm wrapped in ice.
Whispers cascaded around the furiously billowing cloak – the whispers of echoing catacombs and long gone scholars. The figure loomed above the boy, and breathed over him.
Cal felt his body go limp. He fell back on a cushion, as a blanket of slumber tucked him away.
He blinked, slipping into cozy darkness. Even as the diadem was placed over his brow…
Mama. Please, find me.
#ProtectAdolinKholin
Wow. That was so much more dramatic than I usually write.
*Ahem*
#ProtectAdolinKholin
Wow.
Poor Cal. Whoever is supposed to save him needs to get over here quick.
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the Gork
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