- This topic has 1,453 replies, 16 voices, and was last updated 5 hours, 6 minutes ago by
.
-
Posts
-
I’m gonna write a thingy, and anyone may do with this what they will. Also, a few more quick facts about Raynen: He can’t shapeshift into a totally different creature, but he can make himself have different ears, wings, feet, etc. But only one thing at a time. And he always has fangs. Those never go away.
Ramen
Wind beat against Raynen’s face while he went at lightning speed towards the academy, powered by two reptilian wings on his back. He narrowed his eyes, staring hard at each of the many windows to find an opening to go through. One appeared to be clear, and he swerved quickly in that direction. It was too late to turn back now if there was a glass pane in the way, as Raynen was soaring haphazardly with little awareness of how to slow down.
He dove downwards towards the opening, and sunlight reflected back in his eyes, making him flinch. There was absolutely a window pane there, and all Raynen managed to do was let the spikes on his dragon-wings take the brunt of the impact as he smashed right through. With his eyes still blinking black dots from the pains of sunlight, Rayne tried to find ground to land on. He heard the sounds of people, and perhaps even the sounds of fighting.
There was no more time to think about it as he crashed into a group of people. His eyes adjusted just enough to take in his surroundings before he stood quickly and glared angrily at the people he collided with. “Blegh!” he scoffed, shaking his head distastefully and turning to walk away.
Kavan hit his head so hard once that he dreamed he was a loaf of bread.
Hey, you’re not supposed to question things. It’s because, uh… it’s just anime logic, okay? XD
That senses. XD
Bryce
Bryce blinked stupidly, then bit his lip. “Uh, I dunno. I don’t get time to read much fiction,” he said. Really, H.O.M.E had never really allowed him to read fiction. He had only ever gazed upon facts and instructions. Bryce nodded toward the book in Jack’s hand. “What’s that?”
Kavan hit his head so hard once that he dreamed he was a loaf of bread.
Lucian
As his frustration simmered down, Lucian realized he hadn’t been paying attention to where his feet were taking him. He paused, turning around to orient himself. He didn’t want to go back inside just yet. Learning and research could wait. If he remembered the map of the school correctly, he wasn’t too far from the stables. He began walking again.
When he entered the stables, Lucian gave a low whistle. Almost immediately, the familiar dark face of a horse peered over one of the stall doors. Lucian smiled and walked quickly over to her.
“Hello, Onyx. How are you settling in? Have they been treating you well here?” He stroked the horse’s nose as he talked quietly. Onyx leaned into his touch, but after a moment got tired of it and nuzzled his hands, looking for something. Lucian apologized. He had forgotten to bring sugar cubes. The horse huffed in displeasure, ruffling his hair with her hot breath. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.
“Wait here.” Outside, Lucian had spotted a scraggly old apple tree with plenty of low branches to climb. Onyx’s stall was on the very end of the stables, right next to the big, open barn doors, so the tip of her nose was still visible as he walked out.
He hadn’t climbed a tree in a while. It was undignified. But he didn’t care at the moment. Father wasn’t here. He grabbed the first branch and pulled himself up. Not too far up the tree was a large cluster of ripe apples. He reached up and stuffed several into his pockets. Onyx whinnied.
“Yes, I hear you,” he called back. “Patience is a virtue, my friend.” He climbed and then jumped down, stumbling a little as he landed.
After feeding a couple to Onyx, Lucian polished one apple with his sleeve and then bit into it. It was slightly bitter, but he enjoyed it. He leaned back against the stall door, and took another bite. There, for a temporary moment as he shared food with his friend, he was content.
Any paint can be finger paint if you don't care enough
Jack
“Folktales. Old stories. From someplace I’m not familiar with. I love reading these kinds of books to my younger siblings.” He flipped the book open, turning pages randomly, until he paused on a page with an illustration of a villainous wolf. It stared up at him hungrily from the page. “They’re full of monsters and magic and royalty. The heroes don’t always win.”
Any paint can be finger paint if you don't care enough
I tried typing Moth and it autocorrected to Mother and I almost started laughing very loudly to myself in public
*Snort laughs in a very public but very empty hallway*
Ari
He slowly nodded. Linguistics wasn’t for another three hours–not till after lunch, and of course Choir this evening. The school had tried to saddle him with other classes; diplomacy, dancing, philosophy, ethics. Tried unsuccessfully.
Stop staring off into space like a brainless statue.
“Yes.” He flinched at his own voice. “I was–am.”
It was odd talking to other students, but Moth and Ellis, they were both new. They’d leave him alone eventually.
He reached up to squeeze the back of his neck.
A cup of tea is cheaper than therapy.
I pronounced that Moth-er and that is somehow quite fitting.
Ari
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He nodded and pushed away from the table.
“Come on then.”
Students still meandered around the courtyard. Clumps of them stood followed various instructors like swarms of bees. Ari headed straight for the enclosed archery range, ignoring the hussle that parted around him.
But Moth was small. Ari glanced behind him once to check on the faery boy and his friend and once more as he reached the door. The school wisely did their best to contain stray arrows and so had put a whole wall and roof between the range and the rest of the gymnasium. Stifling, that.
A cup of tea is cheaper than therapy.
If anyone is interested, I have a picture of what Lucian’s horse looks like. The only difference is that she has a black/ dark brown face
Any paint can be finger paint if you don't care enough
Ooooo a pretty horsey. <3
Bryce
Bryce nodded, before going and inspecting other books. He pulled another from the shelf and skimmed through the pages. It definitely was not fiction, but held a bunch of random stuff about the government of a foreign country. Bryce could only think about how his friend Lisse would hate this book, and she would probably set it under her common label of “a bunch of swimming nonsense in the Noodle-language…” whatever that meant.
“How many… uhm, siblings do you have?” Bryce stammered. He removed yet another book through the shelf, also skimming through that one while speaking to Jack.
Kavan hit his head so hard once that he dreamed he was a loaf of bread.
After discussion with the roleplay gods (aka Loops), I will add a new character. Her name is George and she is one of the academy servants. She is not solely from this rp; she is from the same world as Moth. Will describe her as the story goes. The only thing I have to mention is that she has an Irish accent. I’d rather not write it out in the dialogue.
…
George
George tipped her hat to the horses as she strode through the barn. She made a gentle clucking sound and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen… I am here to serve.”
A stallion let out a high-pitched whinny. He seemed to be walking in place with nowhere to go. He backed up, then pressed himself forwards, causing the door to grate against its hinge.
George slipped through his stable door, grasped his bridle firmly, and patted his nose. “Well. Aw now, pretty peanut. Are you missing your boy?”
She studied his thick-lashed eyes and gave him a reprimanding yet soft look.
Along with some of the other horses, he was in a new place, and probably anxious to know where he was. No one could blame him. The academy was bustling to the point of bursting, and what stallion liked to deal with new stable hands at a time like this?
The pretty beasts were going to be George’s only clients for quite some time. Like their owners, they were sure to be high-strung and sensitive. They needed a lot of attention.
George hooked a broom in one arm and a bucket of brushes in the other. One horse at a time. The first, at the end of the row, was Onyx. A black-faced mare. Gold mottled her dark coat, like flickers of sun in a tree’s shadow. Her nose was already poking out of her stall.
Was that a boy leaning against the stall door? He was on the other side of Onyx’s head, feeding her something.
George put down her tools and took the opportunity to clear her throat, so the prince knew she was there. She put a hand on the mare’s neck and tipped her trilby respectfully. “Your Royal Highness, I was planning to brush your mare. Are you keen to do it yourself?”
…
the roleplay gods (aka Loops)
why am I multiple
Any paint can be finger paint if you don't care enough
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.