- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Beginner
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy. Supernatural. Magical. Modern. Medieval. Romance. Scifi. Horror....somewhat in that order.
"Is everything to your liking, your highness?"
Every morning began the same in the beautiful kingdom of Aventa. The sun rose over the twin peaks standing guard to the east, casting golden rays over a land lush with trees, plants, animals and waters. Those rays stretched over rolling hills and valleys of wildflowers to reach the shores of Fire's Sea, glinting off the golden spires of the marbled palace that called the edge of Aventa home. Built within the grand city of Vyra, the palace soaked in the morning sun and breathed life into its inhabitants and those surrounding.
Every morning began the same for Aventa's king. Maverick Torvald the Defender--in smaller circles the Charmer and even smaller circles the Deceiver--rose in the early morning hours to cross his bedchamber and lean against the frame of the archway leading out onto a balcony overlooking Vyra. He would let his gaze wander over the stirring city, spending the silent moments contemplating various topics--some serious and some trivial--up until dawn peeked up over the eastern mountains and it was in that moment, the king cleared his mind and simply watched its rise.
Maverick couldn't remember when he had begun the habit, but the place he leaned his shoulder into was now so worn, it fit the curve of his muscle perfectly. It was a detail lost on him. The only thing he seemed to give his attention to in those moments was that sunrise and he wouldn't move from that spot until those brilliant rays spilled over the balcony and touched his toes. Then, and only then, would he quietly push himself off the edge of the archway and turn to begin his day.
On typical days, he'd shower and dress in his usual attire of a light dress shirt and pressed slacks and make his way to the sitting room that had the best view of Fire's Sea. It's where he preferred to have his breakfast, the meal not so much important as the morning tea was.
This morning was a typical start to any day. He sat in his white leather chair and picked up the current book he was in the process of reading. In this instance, it was the second book of a series describing the adventures of a ragtag team of creatures referred to as 'aliens'. Maverick, for the life of him, couldn't help but be intrigued by the sheer absurdity of the creatures in general, but it was an added pleasure to be taken through foreign worlds of weightlessness and flying ships.
"It's quite fine, Reginald," the king replied absently, turning a page before reaching for his tea. "And how many times have I told you that you can call me Maverick?" He lifted a brow, an ocean blue glancing at the older gentleman.
"At least once more, your grace," was always the reply and the king could only shake his head with a soft smile. Reginald has been in his service for twentysomething years, but the man was either stubborn or just loyal to tradition. The day Reginald called the king by his name would be the day the world ended. Returning his gaze back to his book, the king took another casual sip of his tea.
"What's on the agenda for today, Reginald? Court? Meetings? Racing?" He smiled at the last, eyes glittering with the thought of the thrill. The older man sighed, in clear disagreement with the king's choice of entertainment.
"Actually, your highness, today has been cleared for the semi-finalists event of Vyra's most popular competition."
Maverick grew still, his eyes lifting from the page to gaze out over the waved waters of the sea. "Is that today?" His voice was quiet, but strained.
"Yes, sire."
"Well." A soft sigh escaped him. "That's disappointing."
Maverick Torvald
Age Unknown | Human | King | Cursed
"Verick", "Erick", "Rick", "Mave"
Face claim: Mark Bercher
Attire:
Notable Markings: TBD
Every morning began the same in the beautiful kingdom of Aventa. The sun rose over the twin peaks standing guard to the east, casting golden rays over a land lush with trees, plants, animals and waters. Those rays stretched over rolling hills and valleys of wildflowers to reach the shores of Fire's Sea, glinting off the golden spires of the marbled palace that called the edge of Aventa home. Built within the grand city of Vyra, the palace soaked in the morning sun and breathed life into its inhabitants and those surrounding.
Every morning began the same for Aventa's king. Maverick Torvald the Defender--in smaller circles the Charmer and even smaller circles the Deceiver--rose in the early morning hours to cross his bedchamber and lean against the frame of the archway leading out onto a balcony overlooking Vyra. He would let his gaze wander over the stirring city, spending the silent moments contemplating various topics--some serious and some trivial--up until dawn peeked up over the eastern mountains and it was in that moment, the king cleared his mind and simply watched its rise.
Maverick couldn't remember when he had begun the habit, but the place he leaned his shoulder into was now so worn, it fit the curve of his muscle perfectly. It was a detail lost on him. The only thing he seemed to give his attention to in those moments was that sunrise and he wouldn't move from that spot until those brilliant rays spilled over the balcony and touched his toes. Then, and only then, would he quietly push himself off the edge of the archway and turn to begin his day.
On typical days, he'd shower and dress in his usual attire of a light dress shirt and pressed slacks and make his way to the sitting room that had the best view of Fire's Sea. It's where he preferred to have his breakfast, the meal not so much important as the morning tea was.
This morning was a typical start to any day. He sat in his white leather chair and picked up the current book he was in the process of reading. In this instance, it was the second book of a series describing the adventures of a ragtag team of creatures referred to as 'aliens'. Maverick, for the life of him, couldn't help but be intrigued by the sheer absurdity of the creatures in general, but it was an added pleasure to be taken through foreign worlds of weightlessness and flying ships.
"It's quite fine, Reginald," the king replied absently, turning a page before reaching for his tea. "And how many times have I told you that you can call me Maverick?" He lifted a brow, an ocean blue glancing at the older gentleman.
"At least once more, your grace," was always the reply and the king could only shake his head with a soft smile. Reginald has been in his service for twentysomething years, but the man was either stubborn or just loyal to tradition. The day Reginald called the king by his name would be the day the world ended. Returning his gaze back to his book, the king took another casual sip of his tea.
"What's on the agenda for today, Reginald? Court? Meetings? Racing?" He smiled at the last, eyes glittering with the thought of the thrill. The older man sighed, in clear disagreement with the king's choice of entertainment.
"Actually, your highness, today has been cleared for the semi-finalists event of Vyra's most popular competition."
Maverick grew still, his eyes lifting from the page to gaze out over the waved waters of the sea. "Is that today?" His voice was quiet, but strained.
"Yes, sire."
"Well." A soft sigh escaped him. "That's disappointing."
Maverick Torvald
Age Unknown | Human | King | Cursed
"Verick", "Erick", "Rick", "Mave"
Face claim: Mark Bercher
::appearance::
Ocean Blue | Auburn | 6' 4" | 157 lbs
Ocean Blue | Auburn | 6' 4" | 157 lbs
Attire:
Classy, though not too formal. Mostly dress shirts in varying colors, depending on his mood. Occasionally will be seen in a simple T and crisp jeans. Wears a necklace at all times with a pendant of an intricate symbol, either of pewter or silver, with an opal in its center.
Hair Style:
He doesn't do much with it, really. The curled red locks tend to have a mind of their own and so, nature tends to style his hair for him. Enjoys facial hair, but keeps it tidy.
Notable Markings: TBD
::personality::
::likes::
Dark Chocolate | Ice Cream | Birds | Reptiles | Hiking/Rock Climbing | Adventure | Sunrises | Tea
::dislikes::
Cats | Night | Seafood | Most of his nicknames | Dishonesty
::hobbies::
Drawing/Painting | Reading | Racing |
::habits/quirks::
Scratches at his beard when thinking | Occasional Smoker | Nail Biter | Cannot have hands/fingers touch his food
::talents::
Drawing | Speech/Charmer |
::history::
CURSED
CURSED
Last edited: