OPEN SIGNUPS Becoming Gods.

PhantomThief715

Hell's Harem King
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day
My Usual Online Time
Week days 3pm - 10pm Eastern
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Aggressive if it's my own plot but other wise it's what's needed of me.
Favorite Genres
I'll play them all if I like the plot but I go for mainly fantasy and magical. I like anything that wouldn't happen to you in everyday life. I mean if you can live it why role play it.
Genre You DON'T Like
Fan fiction is my no go.
Last edited:

PhantomThief715

Hell's Harem King
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day
My Usual Online Time
Week days 3pm - 10pm Eastern
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Aggressive if it's my own plot but other wise it's what's needed of me.
Favorite Genres
I'll play them all if I like the plot but I go for mainly fantasy and magical. I like anything that wouldn't happen to you in everyday life. I mean if you can live it why role play it.
Genre You DON'T Like
Fan fiction is my no go.
The weather was nice at about seventy two degrees fahrenheit in the second week of September. It was cloudy but didn't show any sign of rain October was the rainy month. Everyone was returning from their holiday break and business was getting up and going once again. Walk through the beautiful street of Rome, Italy to one of his favorite bakery, Antico Forno Roscioli, Derrida could hear music playing on the streets. The dark haired male smiled, he always held a special place for this city.

The culture and the history played a big part. Looking at his watch it was already 8:30am. He was heading to the airport. Walking into the bakery he gets two treats one for himself and another for the young Miss he would be picking up at the airport. Derrida sprinted to his car, a maroon Ferrari F8 Tributo, sliding into the driver's seat. Starting the engine he took off towards Leonardo da Vinci International Airport. Upon arrival he parks his car hitting the lock button.

The male had long legs and toned torso. Derrida was leaning against the wall playing some random game on his phone while he awaited the plane to land. A small paper bag in hand when he looked up at the clock. Sliding his phone into his jeans he takes out one of the treats in the bag. He munches on his pastry. Some random girls pointing him out while a few of his customers wondered to him. He waved but didn't talk long.



It had been a long time coming, this short vacation. For her eighteenth birthday Chloe had asked for a vacation trip on her own, to set out and explore the world even if it was just a little bit. However she hadn’t gotten it. Her caretaker far too nervous to actually let her go. Having relayed her mild frustrations in it all to her penpal back in Italy he had been kind enough to offer her to come over there. A familiar person who she could trust would certainly appease the elder that watched over her.
Sure enough, when the summer ended and Chloe again asked to go on a trip for her birthday, to get to visit her penpal, she was allowed. Albeit begrudgingly from her caretaker.
She had to wait a few weeks though, till just after the plane ticket prices would go down before she could actually go there.

So now here she was. All alone, in a major city, at a very big airport, with a large body of people.

Carefully Chloe waded through the large mass of people. "Pardon me, sorry. Excuse me." She said, repeating herself over and over with every twist and turn she had to make in order to get to her destination. Behind her Chloe tugged on an immensely large suitcase. Or well, it was of normal size, it just seemed large next to her.
Was she small, oh most definitely so. Which made the people around her all the more easily overlook her entirely.

Three times Chloe almost tripped over someone's luggage, two times over some fellow's large feet, and four times almost being knocked over by someone else's backpack. This really wasn't her day. And she could use a glass of water right about now.
She had a bottle of water in her backpack, but that was about it, and she didn't have time to pull it out at the moment, having to get to Derrida who was undoubtedly already waiting for her.
At last, the end was in sight, the light through the doors that would reveal the city to the babyfaced teenager who on multiple accounts had to prove to staff at the airport that she was old enough to travel on her own. The double doors opened up and she paused, looking from side to side, wondering where he might be.



Derrida had finally spotted Chloe. She was looking around for something which he would assume was him. The Male was making his way through the crowd of people weaving in and out. He had managed to skillfully dodge people. Chloe however managed to stumble thanks to some people running into her. He however casually caught her just in time. "Hey beautiful, long time no see." He says referring to the last time they video chatted "Benvenuti a Roma, Chloe." He smiles helping her steady herself.

He takes her luggage from her hand and holds out his other arm for her to hold onto. "Last thing we need is you getting lost in a sea of people in the airport. Oh I got you a pastry." He says handing her the brown paper bag. With her now in tow Derrida guides them out of the airport to his car. He puts her things in the trunk before opening her door and going to the driver's side and getting in. "Where to first?" He asks.



Her shoulder was nudged relatively hard by a person rushing to go inside, nearly knocking over Chloe onto her behind had someone not reached out and caught her at the last moment before tush hit the pavement. Looking up she blinked a few times. The accent lingering in the man’s voice caused her brows to rise. “Derrida?” The somewhat familiar looks dawning on her at last. Truth be told she had mostly recognized him from his voice than his looks as she had occasional issues with their internet back home, causing her to have to switch video off. That’s what happens when you live in the outskirts of nowhere. But the connection had been decent the last time, so they had seen each other.

Getting to her feet she smiled shyly. There was a bit of bewilderment that played on her face as the small girl looked up to her pen pal. There was a good 1’7”, or nearly 50cm between them in height. A giant versus a beardless dwarf. There were probably nicer analogies to be made about herself, but this was the quickest that had popped in her head.
He so swiftly managed to take over her luggage that she barely had time to protest that she could carry it herself. Well, to be fair it had been giving her plenty of troubles. A bit of a sheepish grin came to her expression as he made the quip about her getting lost in a sea of people while he offered his arm for her to hold on to. “These are more people than I’ve ever seen in one place.” She admitted as she accepted the paper bag. Curiously she opened it, finding the sweet pastry inside. “Thank you.” Doing well to eat it swiftly, lest she get any crumbs in his car.

Car... that was his car? Just how well off was he? Seeing how casual he moved about the vehicle she could at least determine that it was not a rented car just for the show of it.
Meekly she sat down in the passenger’s seat, looking around the vehicle with a bit of awe and intimidation. The car she was used to was that of her caretaker. Who was a nurse. With only a small income. Whatever they had they were very careful with and took the time and effort to mend and reuse what they could. It was how they were able to save up money for this trip and for a few luxury items every once in a while. Even a lot of their fruits and vegetables were tilled at home. Chloe taking care of the garden mostly as she was home the most and just had a knack for getting the plants to grow strong and bear an abundance of fruit beyond what was considered normal. Most of their meals consisted of things they had grown themselves. Not that they were vegetarian, they simply didn’t eat meat all that often.
Hm?” Having been lost in her thoughts for a second she had to bounce the question back and forth a few times in her head before it made contact. “Oh right, well maybe to where I’m staying so I can drop off my baggage? No point in hauling that everywhere, right?



Derrida had been watching her most of the time in his car. "I guess you have never been in a car this nice." He chuckles "Did I not tell you I own my own business? It makes me good money." The dark haired Male but the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. "To the hotel it is. My offer still stands about staying at my place you know." He tells her with a soft chuckle. The Male drives to her hotel and takes her things into the hotel. The two got her checked in and her things put away before heading back to his car. "Okay so let's see shall we go check out the colosseum?" He asks her knowing she had been wanting to explore and sight see. Once they were back into his car and ready to go he hits the gas and speed off.

Every now and again he would smile seeing her in awe at the sight before her. This made his happy. He knew how she had been living. Him on the other hand worked his ass off making his money. He was good at his job so it seemed easy for him. Derrida rolled down the windows and turned if the radio. He drove towards their destination. Though he had seen the scenery many times it always managed to take his breath away. Soon the old buildings of the ancient city appeared before them.

Getting out of the car, he gives her a smile. It was still pretty early so not many people were around. There was that and that fact Derrida was a local and didn't need to follow a group of people with a guide. "If you have questions about the history ask away I will answer. For while your here I will be your tour guide." He tells her giving a smile.



Bashful Chloe looked down. Feeling a bit caught in the moment of having stared at the car’s interior. “Sorry...” She spoke hushed.
And they were off, away to the hotel to check in and bring her bag to her hotel room. She had explained again that her caretaker would absolutely not have it that she’d stay at some man’s house. Though in private thought she added that if the woman knew even slightly what Derrida looked like in real life, she’d probably have made it a point that she’d not even get in his car. Calling him a delinquent, a criminal, a womanizer, and probably a lot more not so nice things.
In her room she rearranged a few of her items to fit more useful things in her hand bag. No point in hauling everything she needed in the plane through the town after all.

With that in tow they set out to their next destination. Upon Derrida’s suggestion to go to the Colosseum Chloe had nodded and smiled. She certainly wouldn’t mind looking around the place, it was a major tourist attraction after all, and he seemed excited to show her around. Though if she had dared to speak up she might have said a different suggestion. The Botanical Garden. A silly thing to even suggest, seeing as those could be found anywhere in the world, even in cities closer to home. Plus, he did not strike her as the sort that would enjoy staring at plants all day. No, this was something she’d probably have to do on her own some day.
So off they went, driving through the city and giving her a chance to look at all the various old buildings as they passed by.

She had been silent for most of the car ride, simply looking out the window, observing it all with wide eyes. There was nothing like this back home, not even remotely. So all of it was certainly a spectacular sight. One she’d hope to remember for eternity. Wondering in part what it must have been like to live here back in the day. To walk these streets as a citizen of Rome. Would it feel normal, like it was nothing special? Surely not, right? Though maybe a little less overly awe inducing than it felt right now.
Was this experience the same for everyone, or was it just so much stronger for her? To be so far from home for the first time ever. Seeing more than just the little town she grew up near.
Getting out of the car she had to admit, seeing it up close, standing here, it really made it all sink in just how big it truly was.

Her attention turned to Derrida and she smiled widely. “Thank you, I appreciate that. Honestly I don’t know where to start.” Though in reality it was more she didn’t want to impose with a list of questions that he might find boring or tedious to answer. He offered, that is true, but that didn’t mean she just went all out and asked everything.
Shall we?” She asked meekly, pointing at the main entrance. No point in loitering around the parking lot after all.



Derrida gives her a nod. He had to admit she was pretty damn adorable. He almost wanted to coddle her. He headed inside with her close behind. "Here is a random fun fact not everyone knows. Back in the day the specters were covered with a sort of awning called a velarium. And to this very day it's still the world's largest amphitheater to this day holding fifty thousand people." He explains as the headed inside. Once inside he takes a look around. Somehow this seemed nostalgic. As if he had been here back in the day. He felt the same when ever he would visit Athens, Greece as well. He wondered if it was because he was the son of Hades or perhaps there was more that wasn't explained to him.

Derrida looked down at his wrists at the gold cuff bracelet with swirled squares. A supposed gift from his father send to him via Hermes. No matter how hard he would try the damn thing would never come off. Only real way would to be chop off his wrists. Which he wasn't about to do. He then looks up once more. She seemed in awe at the sights. "What do you think?" He asks her with a soft smile. However suddenly the wind around them started to blow hard and fast around them. Almost like a storm coming out of nowhere. Derrida reaches over grabbing Chloe, shielding her from the stand that was blowing around. "Stay calm and keep your head down." He tells her knowing this weather wasn't normal.

Hermes was descending from the heavens causing the wind and dirt to stir in the Colosseum. No one else had seemed to notice the change. He landed in the area fully aware of who was below. Well he knew Derrida was and didn't know of Chloe until he got closer. "Derrida, it has been some time. Twelve years I'd say." Hermes says as the wind around them stopped. Derrida let go of Chloe moving he behind him. "And Chloe, daughter of Persephone." He thought noticing the girl Derrida had put behind him. "What do you want Hermes?" Derrida asks.

Hermes shifted in his shoes tapping his shoe against the ground. "It's time you to accept your fate child of Persephone and Hades." Hermes says using his speed to grow closer to Derrida. "What are you talking..." Derrida starts only to have pain consume him as he drops to the ground. The cuffs around his wrists had been broken when Hermes snapped. The pain of the power of the gods being released was unlike anything he'd ever felt. His body was consumed with a dark aura and ear piercing screams. Vivid memories of being a baby flashed before his eyes. His mother and his father holding him close. Finally the aura vanished around him and the pain had subsided. Derrida was laying on the ground panting. "Screw you Hermes." He huffed out.



Once inside she could really be in awe of its grandeur. It’s sheer size and immense craftsmanship making it something of a wonder of the ages. No wonder so many people were drawn to it to observe the past. Again the thought played of what it would be like had she been a Roman Citizen. Though, then again, as a woman she probably wouldn’t have had much of any rights unless she was born into a well off household. And even then it would have been limited. No, a girl abandoned on the steps of a nurse would not have been able to have a decent and fulfilled life back in those days. That much she could figure.

Derrida continued to give her bits of information, things perhaps others did not know. Well, she at least didn’t so there was that.
Out of what seemed to be nowhere the wind picked up pace and blew like a tornado through the Colosseum. Trembling in fear Chloe covered her face as she let Derrida guide her till she was behind him. Slinking down into a small ball on the ground with arms wrapped around her head. Natural disaster, lightning storms, tornadoes, stuff like that? Make yourself small on the ground with the least amount of surface area. Less chance of getting hit or blown over.

With her eyes pressed shut she could hear the rustling happening behind her, something nearing her though what she did not know. Too scared to even look. Though the winds did soon calm down.
No not quite. They weren’t calm yet but they were farther away. Like they were happening outside while she was within a building. Eventually the sound of rushing winds did stop, for real, though she did not quite dare to look yet. Hearing voices. Two people. Two men talking. One loud and with authority, the other not in a very friendly. Wait, that kind of sounded like Derrida?

All of a sudden she could hear screams. Loud, ear piercing screams that rattled her to her very core. Derrida!
Her eyes snapped open and her head came up, only to hit the back of it against something. What the? Everything was dark? What was going on. Had debris fallen over her or something? Hands reached out, only to find that what was around her was soft and malleable. It wasn’t just above her, it was behind, in front, and all around. Panic really starting to kick in as she could still hear Derrida, even as the screaming got less. Whatever was around her must have hit him too.
Derrida?” She called out. “Derrida!” With both palms open she slammed against the cocoon that surrounded her. It seemed to be moving, but not in a way she expected. Not that she had time to stop and think about it.
Come on...” She muttered, gathering every bit of strength -which wasn’t a whole lot- held her hands open for one more strike, calling “Move!” as she pushed forward with both at the same time. A glow appeared. Whatever was around her moved out of the way, creating an opening, letting Chloe nearly tumble forward onto her knees, catching herself with her hands before faceplanting, and out in the bright light of day.
For a while there, she did nothing. Simply sitting there on her knees, her hands to the ground, and eyes wide as she wondered what in the world had just happened.

From the outside view little weeds that had taken root between the stones had heeded to her plight of fear, rushing towards her to form a shield. Only moving when she herself commanded them to. Sitting there on hands and knees the plants slithered back down behind her, back to the place where they belonged.



"It was time for your awakening." Hermes explains glancing over at Chloe who had fallen. "As for you child. Your mother is the goddess of spring, Persephone." Derrida looked over at Chloe. Getting up he headed to her. His body was weak but no matter how little energy he had he would make his way to her. "Chloe." He says finally reaching her. He collapses next to her. "I will be fine." He tells her. "Of course you will. But I am here with more pressing matters. The fates foretold something tragic will happen and only the child born of Hades and Persephone, along with some demigods can save us from total destruction. I am here to take you to Olympus. But first we must gather the remanding demigods." Hermes explains.

"Like hell!" Derrida hissed at Hermes grabbing ahold of Chloe's hand protectively. "The gods can rot in Tartarus." He explains. Hermes sighs. "Hades ceases to exist. Meaning your the one who is to rule the underworld." Hermes tells him. "My old man dying that ridicules. What kills a god?" Derrida asks.



The information was brought to her so cut and dry. So plain matter of fact as if everyone already knew, that it became impossible for Chloe to explain. Yes, she might have literally come out of a plant based egg just now, like a little spring chick - not that she had seen how that had looked from the outside - and she tended to believe people easily, giving someone the benefit of the doubt whenever she could, but this? This just seemed like a poorly executed prank where she was missing the humor in it.
What?” She blinked, completely lost in the moment till Derrida came up and over to her side. Dropping right back down to the ground, sending a wave of alert through her. Hands came off the ground and reached for him, though it was just as easily swept away by him with the simple statement that he’d be fine and the other’s reply to the same.
Everything just rushed past her. All of it moving so fast. Having no idea who this person was before her. What just happened and why she had just been called the daughter of Persephone? No, her mother’s name was Cora. That’s what her caretaker had told her. Unaware that Cora was the Latin spelling of the name Kore, Persephone’s name when she was a mere maiden.
Her eyes were on Derrida, who seemed so calm and casual under it all, despite looking like he had just run a marathon.


Derrida got up and looked at Hermes. "I want proof." He asks. Hermes sighs hitting the ground an image of Persephone appears on the ground. "Persephone." Hermes calls. The goddess of beautiful orange hair looks at them. Her eyes widen in surprise. "Derrida! Chloe!" She gasps tears streaming down her face "Your both all right. Thank the heavens." Derrida looks at the image dumb found. "Mom?" He asks only to have her nod vigorously. "So it's true you left all those years ago because you were Persephone." He asks. She smiles at him. "Indeed. All those winters you thought I was traveling was because I had to return to Hades. Finally I had to let you grow up on your own. But I didn't expect Hades to come get me. I am happy to see both my children alive and well. Sorry I couldn't be there but the seasons have already started to change."

Derrida nods looking at Chloe. "Cora is the Latin equivalent of Kore the name given to Persephone when she was nothing but a maiden." He explains to her "You have her eyes. Now that I think about it you have told me you have lived a sheltered life. My guess is it was to protect you from Hades. If he'd ever found out his wife had an affair things wouldn't have ended nicely. You wouldn't have lived to be as old as you are and your soul would have been torchered." He says turning to Hermes. "Let's go find the others then." He sighs

Derrida really didn't feel up to the task. Hell he was happy living his life how it was. Now he got sucked up in some stupid ass god drama. Hermes nods.
 

Keelash

Edgebabby
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays
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Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Futanari, Primarily Prefer Male
Favorite Genres
Romance and erotica
"LAND HOEEE!" one of the men on deck yelled from above. the shout awoke Ethan from down below, and with a soft yet burly groan he stood up. lifting his arms up above his head and stretched, he had been sleeping for an awfully long while, at least it felt that way. even though he was a young man of very few words Ethan's stomach was entirely different, a loud rumble echoed in the cabin as a warning to any nearby food or more so to those with it. "ugh fine, let's see what we've got." Ethan straight-lined to the nearest shipping crate. with little force at all he pulled off the top plywood board and gazed inside the mystery box. "pottery?..really? doesn't Italy have enough of this?" despite his uninterest he picked it up anyway, it reminded him of his schooling as a young lad. the vase depicted a shirtless man with a hammer, the man appeared to be hard at work. the artwork was tagged which Ethan read. "H-Hephaestus. Where have I heard that before?" he whispered to himself now with a scrunched forehead he tried to think of the name. 'oh yes of course!' he thought 'he was that guy with the limp that I learned about in history!' he began chuckling as he remembered in class his old friends would often make fun of the people in the stories.
Precious memories soon fleeted Ethan's mind as the doors to the cabin flung open, bright rays of sun ushered in. Ethan, now blinded by the light heard the creaking of floorboards. A males voice called out to him with a raspy and almost slurred tone "we have been waiting for for you to awake." Ethan waited for his eyes to adjust before opening them to the view of a tall lanky male, he had noticeably long fingernails, his paled olive skin looked like it had been stretched around his body, especially his face. the man's lips look abnormally wide and his nose was pointed, but his eyes, they were different they were a bright crimson that illuminated the cabin as much as the light from the sun. "who are y-you?" Ethan spoke timidly, this was particularly strange since he was rarely intimidated by anything much less the type of twig that stood before him. "we?" he chuckled before something odd occurred, an eye sprouted from the middle of his head and his body grew wider, more muscular until his clothes ripped off. the now 7'4 beast stood before Ethan. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Ethan turned around to flee but there was another that had been behind him the whole time. with the large swing of the beasts backhand Ethan was launched into a crate, pieces of small broken pottery dug into his lower back "AGH!" he let out a loud(but short) yelp of pain before getting back up, he was cornered with no way out and if he wanted to live hed have to fight both at once, but how?
A soft hum rang in the back of Ethan's head and for some reason the conflict seemed to flee from his mind as he looked to the ground directly behind him and there laid a shield with a depicting of woman's face on it, from the face snakeheads stretched to the edges of the circular shield. Ethan read the name of the shield(written on its tag) "Aegis, the violent windstorm." the shield flipped over and launched upwards, attaching to his left arm. something clicked in Ethan's head and he sprung into motion. he spun around and put a foot back to hold his ground while he put his shield up to chest level. One of the beasts began charging at him when he made contact with the shield the face of the woman came to life and shouted a blood-curdling scream, wind kicked up inside the lower portion of the boat and it threw the beast back across the cabin and through the hull, the beast was gone and now water came rushing in. the remaining Beast hesitated before pulling out a hammer and kneeling down "you have bested us, my apologies but we had to test your readiness." the beast tilted his head up. "this hammer as well as I served as your father's weapons and tool for many of centuries, I only ask you spare my life. if you do then the hammer can be your's." before thinking Ethan grabbed the hammer but instead fo sparing the beasts life the hammer swung down on the beast's head, caving in his skull.
After reaching shore he stood under a bridge gathering his thoughts. the hammer, it belonged supposedly to Hephaestus. the hammer belonged to his father, his father was Hephaestus. he had to learn more. the shield and hammer began to glow before a Black and gold leather jacket appeared on him with the same face of the woman on the back, additionally, a necklace with a hammer pendant and silver chain appeared on his neck. Ethan's eyes lit up "coooool" he whispered before he set off to find the nearest library in search of knowledge on his father.
 

The Legate

Hostis Humani Generis!
DONATING MEMBER
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Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
I have a college schedule that ebbs and flows but constantly covers everything. I'm rarely able to predict when I'm on
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Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm fine doing both. I slightly prefer aggressive positions but that's just me
Favorite Genres
Sci-Fi, specifically Cyberpunk, is where I like it best. I can do Fantasy as well.
Genre You DON'T Like
There's nothing I don't like... Except Yaoi

-----​

Sunday, September 8th, 2:04 AM

It was dark out over the shores of Tampa. She hadn't slept in quite some time. Her joints ached and the immense heat did not help the New York native. Her friends told her it would be better come the winter, but more than once she had suffered through a sunburn by staying out too long. The current flat that she was currently laying in had no air conditioning. In fact it didn't have much at all. The owner had long been out of state for a few months now, and the entire apartment was empty and barren of any sort of working utility. The sink didn't even connect to a water line. However, it also meant that the landlord was currently unaware of Oliwa squatting in the second floor of his duplex. Having broken in through a careful lockpick applied to the front door.

She took in a deep breath of fresh air. She had not moved at all from the air mattress that entire day. The air mattress was of course literally the only piece of furnature in that apartment currently, but she had not even gone outside at all today. She knew withdrawal was bad, but didn't know it was miserable to the point of being almost life threatening. She had thrown up several times today, had had the last several days prior. Despite spending all of her money on cup after cup of ramen noodles that she would prepare with bottles of water and a cigarette lighter, she literally could not eat them fast enough. All the while, in the back of her head, she knew that her backpack sitting just nearby had everything she needed to make the pain fade away. Her stash of enthralling treats she had collected over the years.

Oliwa knew that she had a lot of vices, but persistence was her virtue. Despite her ease of access she refused to reach for the mollies and the tablets of LSD that were currently resting in the inner pockets of her bag. As days went on though, she doubted she even had the strength to get up and reach her backpack. She took another shallow breath and weakly rolled over again. Her eyes were bloodshot, and despite wearing only her underwear and not even using any covers, the Florida heat and withdrawal symptoms combined made it so that the mattress was soaked in sweat. The smell alone was nauseating. She would have showered, if the shower even worked. All she could do was sit there and ride it out.

Last night she had not slept at all, but the night before that was even worse. After having fallen asleep she had vivid nightmares which, in line with recent events, they had become real around her. She woke up the next morning to see that something from her nightmare had been messily scratched into the paint: Her own name. The night after that she didn't even dare try to sleep. Knowing it would only get worse, the last thing she needed was her nightmares slipping into reality to larger and larger extents. However there would be no going through a second night in a row without sleep... She would have to shut her eyes, eventually...

Next to the bed was a sudden "brrt!" sound as her phone vibrated. It's screen coming to light, and illuminating the room in a dull glow. She let out a frustrated breath before slowly rolling over and reaching out with her hand. Fumbling several times with the phone as she brought it up to the bed with her. it had 4% charge left. She had been using it incredibly sparingly the last 3 or so days. The apartment had no electricity so she could not charge it, and she knew when she picked it up that it would be likely the last time she would. Sighing, she used her thumb to type out the pin on the phone lock screen ("6969" of course) and opened up her cluttered and broken phone.

It was an email, which shocked her a slight bit. Who the hell used email these days? More importantly, she could not remember giving her email address to anyone. If it was spam however her email's filter would have picked it up. So she opened her email to see further, and noticed that it was from some vague email address... She couldn't tell if it was withdrawal or something else, but every time she attempted to read it, it wouldn't register in her mind. A series of random characters that barely even seemed like comprehensive English. Every time she blinked it's almost as if the email address re-shifted the character's that made up it's name, or she simply forgot what it had looked like.

Not letting it get to her too much, she opened the email. There was no text or anything of the sort but instead there was an attachment. A photo to be specific. She downloaded it onto her phone, stealing a glance at her battery: 2%. Even with her screen brightness turned all the way down. She quickly opened the photo and took a look. What she saw was enough to give her shivers.

The photo was of some place far away. She couldn't recognize where it was but knew it was outside the united states. The street was cobbled instead of paved, and it looked small. No reasonable car would fit through it. Instead mopeds and tiny eco-friendly cars lined the cramped street. Via Cimabue, that was the street's name. The camera photo was of a wooden doorway with a blue tiled "47" next to it on the right side, and on the other side of the door... was her.

She was smiling, and clearly in a better position of health that Oliwa was currently. She had one foot raised and rested it on the step to the door. She was leaning against the wall casually, and was waving at the camera. It almost seemed half mocking, and despite the fact she was wearing a pair of aviators, it was like looking in a mirror: The woman was Oliwa. The hair on her arms and neck stood up in goosebumps. How was this possible? She had never been to this place before. How could this photo even exist? Was it the drugs, was the withdrawal making her hallucinate? If it was, it was pretty god damn elaborate. She stared at the photo for several long seconds, half a minute... No, a full minute. Expecting it to fade away like some illusion.

Eventually it did fade away. Her phone died, and she was thrust back into darkness.

She put the phone slowly back away. Then stared at the ceiling. She could not have the energy any longer to stay awake. Her eyes began to close very slowly. Gradually it began to feel as if she was lighter than air. She slowly lost feeling of her fingers and toes, then her feet and hands, and gradually all of her extremities and bodies became completely and calmly paralyzed. As she slowly lost all conscious awareness of her or her surroundings, her thoughts were of the photo and unknowingly of Italy.

-----


-----​

It was dark here and the dust started to crawl down her throat. Sputtering in surprise, she weakly tried to look around. The cold was unimaginable. The skin on her knuckles and lips froze, dried and cracked. All around her was a low hum, a incessant buzzing at a pitch so deep that it made her head feel as though it might explode. Beginning to pick herself off the ground, she sputtered and spat out the iron gray sand that she was resting on.

Eventually things slowly started to become clearer. The hum cleared into the sound of waves splashing up on the beach right behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw an endless expanse of dark waters, pitch black and equally as cold as the air around her. She felt a presence as she stood up, facing towards the ocean, but did not pay attention to it. It politely waited as the gears moved in her mind, trying to figure out where she was. Shivering in the night air, and she was as naked as she was when she fell asleep, which made the cold quite possibly life threatening. She gritted her teeth and slowly turned around, facing inland from the black ocean.

Deeper into the land, the beach ended into wild shrubbery and tall patchy grass. And beyond that, by a hundred meters or so, the ruins of some ancient town. Amidst the shattered and smashed buildings, obliterated by time, the church stood out. It's craggy tower patched together with cyclopean stones. It stretched out into the dark sky, the top of it having long fell off and revealing a jagged stone edge that seemed to almost cut the sky in two.

She started to walk towards the town slowly in the darkness, but stopped as soon as she reached the edge of the grass, because she could then see a figure standing between her and the town's edge, in the middle of all the weeds. His back was facing towards her, and his hair was a messy patchwork that seemed knotted and tangled haphazardly. Resting atop his head was a crown of antlers and dried wreaths, which wrapped around his head and the antlers to hold it there. A long and patchy toga clung to his gaunt, lithe frame, and his skin was pale as ice. Oliwa thought he looked almost dead. In one hand he held a long wooden stick, and in the other, a cluster of grapes that seemed soured and dried to the point of almost being raisins.

But then he moved, slowly beginning to turn around and face her. "No parent... Should ever have to bury their child..." he had said, loudly, and Oliwa knew he had full intent for her to hear. She took a tentative step back and felt something crunch under her feet. Looking down, she could see poking through the sand was the surface of a skull. One she had just smashed accidentally. Frightened she went to take another step back, her heart beggening to race, but she fell back into the sand and dirt. The figure now fully faced her, and she found herself frozen into the wet sand.

He smiled, his teeth stained by wine. Oddly however Oliwa suddenly felt a calm come over her. Something not akin to the effects of alcohol. It was enough to let him speak one last time.

"I have buried all of mine."

-----​

Sunday, September 8th, 8:17 AM

The sun was blinding. Her eyes squinted and squeezed shut, despite being shut already, and she raised an arm to block out the light. She shifted slightly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. The ground and gravel under her shifted with her... Wait... Gravel?

She slowly sat up. She was fully clothed, she realized. Leather jacket and all. She patted herself down groggily to see that this had happened. Everywehre around her she heard cicadas and crickets, and birds flying overhead. She wasn't in the apartment anymore. Swallowing hard, her throat like sandpaper, she opened her eyes slowly. They took a second to dilate, and adjust to the immense brightness of a Mediterranean sun. It was then that she realized she was laying in the middle of a vast and gigantic vineyard.

She blinked, slowly coming to the realization that she was not just no longer in Florida at all. She was somewhere else, and she didn't know where. At first she thought she was dreaming, but then she realized she remembered her actual dream with perfect clarity. This was not a continuation of said dream: This was real. She stood up slowly and began to look around. Seeing the foothills of the alps nearby, and an Italian field hand approaching her as speedily as his middle aged legs could take him.

Eventually, the portly man stopped just short of her. Oliwa stared at him as he caught his breath, then spoke:

"Stai bene?"

Oliwa stared at him for another couple seconds, her mind still processing this.

"... What the fuck?"
 
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LuckycoolHawk9

Edgeprince
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
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Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
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Will be updated when school year starts. For now, pretty much whenever
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Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Mostly Passive, Sometimes Agressive
Cayden took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. It had been a long morning of trying to convince people to fight in any war. Some days went better than others and today was one of the worse days. It probably didn't help that he didn't look like a military man as much. His hair had gotten a bit modern, not long or short, medium length but not the type you would see on a military man. A lot of people assumed that he was a cosplayer, a man trying to get people who had never fought a day in his life. His limp didn't help, Cayden having to use his crutch. Though it had been a few years since had injured him, it had been being just as stubborn as him and not heal.

It probably didn't help that he never followed doctor's orders and continued to work out, even when he was meant to be on bed rest. He had assumed it would make things better, he hadn't considered that it might achieve the opposite desired effect. He stared around the empty hotel room he had rented and took a swig of alcohol. Even if all it did was relieve the pain for a moment, it was better than waiting for it to pass. He knew that could days or hours and he wasn't about to take the risk. A drink made sure he didn't have to consider that. Even though he was convincing people to fight in their wars, he wanted more. God, he wanted so much more that that.

He thrilled for the rush of battle himself, a chance to sharpen and use his skills. The longer he stayed away from fighting, the more empty he felt. War was in his blood, he was raised around it. It was all he ever knew and it was all he ever cared about. The rush of shooting at an enemy. At aiming a sword, god, he wanted to fight more than anything. He took a deep breath, letting those thoughts cloud his mind as he would fall into a nap. He just wanted one more fight, one more battle.

Fate had a funny way of answering his request as he found himself awake in a different hotel room, now in Italy. He wasn't sure how he had gotten here, but he was on guard. Strangely, everything he owned was still here. How strange. He picked up his sword and wondered outside, looking to see what or who he could find. Maybe he couldn't remember he got drunk.... or just maybe he had gotten that last fight he so eagerly desired. Just maybe.