Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
There was frustration... certainly, in losing. Luca had plans that would never come to fruition now and the disappointment clawed at him now and again, a pinching uneasiness in his chest, that he'd failed her. But after his conversation with Chloe, albeit less informative than he would've hoped regarding her small slip, and after the heartwarming reunion with River, he was feeling marginally less hopeless.

Still... It was strange. Sitting around the table at dinner, looking forward to the grey colored slop and the irritable looks from inmates who had lost bets on them. His natural instinct was to threaten to give them something new to stare at (the inner lining of their collon), but with Chloe beside him, her fingers curling in and out of the hair at back of his neck, he couldn't find the urge.

Not everything born from the Dog Fights was bad...

"Oi, where's Hana?"

Looking up, Luca spied the duo from the first fight, the unlucky pair who had been forced to surrender. Chiko was no stranger to their group - but Amit had always been a bit of an outsider... Yet they were all united in a way. The other side of the Fights.

"Probably in the infirmary." Luca answered with a shrug, trying to fight the urge to answer passove aggressively. His anger there, at least, had not entirely abated, but there was no sense being ugly, "You two joining us?" He asked, gesturing to the empty spaces at their table, "That was some sick work today, Chiko... With the boomerang. Sorry 'bout your ankle. Feelin' alright?"

After their odd conversation with Gram, Pandora's mind has not stopped spinning. Things were moving in a direction she wasn't entirely sure she dared to trust, but also didn't dare doubt. They were in the thick of it, now, and whatever she might've anticipated following their victory in the first fight, particularly where Gram was concerned, escape was too damn important to let little things like someone trying to blow her up get in the way.

But it was also not the only concern smacking around in her brain. Switch, like clockwork, appeared at their table, an uncharacteristically sheepish aor about her as she asked to sit with them like an anxious kid at a new school. A brow raised, arching up towards her temple as Pandora's lip twitched in a smirk.

"Well, gee. I dunno Switch..." Idly, she looked to Abe, then back to Switch again, "This is the cool kid table. You sure you can handle it?" Without waiting for an answer, she kicked out a chair for her cellmate, "Sit, baby girl. How you feelin'?"

It was always awkward when one let slip a secret. Wicker had made a grave error in showing vulnerability that day, but it was something, she hoped, that might not haunt her indefinitely. Fritz's side, at least, seemed settled. Their incident in the infirmary played out well enough, and what had been a fun experiment, it seemed, had begun to shift into a genuine alliance... Her feelings were clear, and whether that served her greater purpose later was a matter of fortune's favor. Either way, the real issue was The Crybaby.

River had proven himself that day in spectacular fashion. She hadn't known until she'd viewed the recap what he had done, but knowing it now was damn near chill inducing... For all his shockingly violent twists and turns, however, there was still a twinge of a flaw in plan... And she needed to ensure that was dealt with, swiftly.

Looking to Fritz as he spoke, she reached up to give his hand on her waist a gentle pat, smiling fondly, "I feel like a whole damn princess, my darling." They were briefly interrupted and Wick's brow rose at the guard's words, but she didn't ask for clarification. Her king would tell her if it was important...

Instead, smiling, she gestured ahead of them, "Find us a table, would you? I'd like to go say hullo to Puddles and make sure he's prepared to deliver tomorrow." Leaning up onto her toes, she pressed a kiss to his jawline, and with a wink, separated herself from his side.

Her steps carried confidence, even as her heart gave an unconscious, uneasy throb. Poise...

Pausing at the slightly crowded table, she leaned down near where the young felon sat, "Little Lamb. A word... Por favor?"
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obvious cryptic
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
The Wicked Witch Arrives
with Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

River could feel Wick’s presence before she had even cleared her throat. He sat close to Chloe, mind spinning with the events of the first round, before and after. All the hungry looks that prisoners had shot him, the conversation with Bah, Chloe, Luca, and then Hana. There was turmoil in his gut, but being close to his friends, his family… made it less. Wick, in her sauntering over, brought it right back.

But he did not shrivel, taking a deep, angry breath, glaring at his barely touched prison gruel. “Puta.” He hissed under his breath, before standing up abruptly. “Just leave them alone, okay? We’ll go.”

“Tisk tisk, Puddle…” With a small smirk, she straightened as he did, “Such a dirty mouth for our little pup. Your friends will be fine. I just need a moment.” Gesturing, she nodded towards the edge of the cafeteria, away from the crowded tables, “We'll just be a moment.”

Gnashing his teeth together, River glared daggers at Wick, almost wishing they could be real. He gave the others what was supposed to be a reassuring nod, but the distaste in his expression was too prevalent to ignore. He followed Wick to the edge, fists balled at his sides. “What is it?” River muttered. “What else do you want from me?”

Still smiling, Wick shook her head as she tucked her hands behind her back, “So brave, aren't we… But then… you're a killer now, aren't you? Not our little weeping willow, anymore. So brave. It's charming.” Turning to face him, the smile faded and her eyes honed in on his, fixed, cold, “...Heading to the infirmary… when the fight ended. You may have overheard a certain… name. A mistake. I assure you, a rare occurrence. What I want from you… is to forget it. Immediately and permanently. Understand?”

“I a-already was a killer.” River hissed, eyes glassy. He hated the way her eyes glared straight through him, but refused to look away no matter how watery his own were growing. “And if I don’t?” River said, voice on the edge of a threatening whisper. “C-Cameron, huh? Y-your ex-lover? Your b-brother? Y-your… whatever? Cameron C-Cameron C-C-Cameron!”

“I'm sure you were, sweetie.” Wick answered, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As he went on, however, her amusement flickered away. Stepping close, she kept her eyes locked to his, voice even, too even, “If you don't, the first one to go is the pretty blonde. Maybe a knife in the back during arts and craft… maybe an unfortunate fall. Hmm… a pillow over that darling face. After her, her little lover boy. Then the addict. The giant…” Pausing, she shrugged, “I think I've made my point.”

There was an obvious amount of fear in River’s eyes, but it was not the only emotion swirling evidently beneath his brown orbs. A fire, a determination, even if misplaced still raged within him. At first all her threats drained the color from his face, and yet, the rage didn’t leave.

“Y-you’re… a… liar.” He decided, without stepping down an inch. “You’re not a r-real psycho, r-r-remember? Y-you told me s-so. Y-you won’t. Y-you… d-don’t… own me.”

“You aren't wrong, Precious. I'm not. But one does not need to be crazy… to kill.” The smile inched back, and Wick tipped her head to the side, her eyes twisting casually over to the table they had walked away from, “And I will, Puddles. I will rip every single one of them from your hands and make you feel their ends.” Looking at him again, she shrugged, “Now… What was that name again?”

Instinctively River stepped in front of her, blocking her view from the table, steam pouring out of his nose and ears. “N-no. Y-you won’t. Because you can t-t-try, but I’m a killer too. And I’m really good at it.”

Almost shaking out of pure anger, River parted his lips. “Cam. Er. On.”

Laughing, faintly, an oddly icy sound, Wick shook her head, “So do it. Go on, Puddle. Kill me. Because I swear to you… I will end each and every one of them…. And I won't hesitate.”

River searched Wick’s gaze, hoping for her to break. Hoping for his act of bravery to somehow stun her into submission. But it didn’t happen. He took a step back. “I-I… w-w-won’t hesitate e-either.” River mumbled, trying to regain his confidence, but lacking the earlier conviction. “D-don’t touch th-them.”

“I won't need to. Don't you get it, River? I own more than you can imagine, and all I need to do is tell him what I want and it will be done. So let's try this one more time.” Meeting his gaze, her own steeled over, “What was the name?”

Another step back. River’s eyes darted between Wick and the table ahead of her. “W-why a-are you d-doing this? Wh-what good a-am I to you if I j-just remind you o-of someone y-you want to b-b-bury?”

“Don't…” Eyes narrowing, Wick took a small step back, but her expression barely shifted as she recovered herself immediately, “Don't you pretend to know anything about this. Just… play your part. That's all you have to do.”

“W-what p-p-part is that?” River growled, seeing that pause, the crack in her armor. He stepped forward, resuming the gap between them. “S-so h-he’s someone d-dead then, huh? S-someone you want back? S-someone you want to hurt, s-so you’re doing it to m-me?”

Hand lashing out, Wick grabbed the front of his collar, fist tightening around the gaudy orange fabric of his jumpsuit, eyes flaring, “What did I just say?! One more stupid question and you are gonna regret it, am I clear.”

River barely even flinched, even though his heart leapt in panic. So many times Dante had bent his will, made him so pliable that he was barely a person at all. Not anymore. Not anyone else. And he could see the cracks in Wick’s facade. Something had broken, given. He’d made a dent. And with that knowledge, River was not ready to give up. Not when he finally had something to fight for.

“You might think y-you’re special, Wick,” River said through a hiss, staring into her eyes as they flared, “B-but I’ve been living in hell l-long before you came around… only difference is… t-this time.. I’m n-not r-ready to break.”

Smoothing out his collar, Wick's expression shifted. A sudden indifference. Not cold. Not angry. Blank. Empty. Hollow. Stepping back, she brushed the front of her own uniform, “Then you'd better say your goodbyes. Because if you aren't going to heed my warnings, apparently, you require a demonstration.”

The sudden shift in Wick’s eyes sent a chill down River’s spine, but he had come too far to crumble in front of her again. “If you t-touch them… I-I’ll bury you right next to wherever the hell C-Cameron is.”

“There is no 'if’. You had one part in this and you've failed, Puddle.” Smiling faintly, the edges of her gaze still void of emotions, she shook her head, “You gonna bury me you'd better do it fast, because I promise you… I won't hesitate to destroy every single one of them. You struck a match, little pup. Watch me burn.”

River growled, but said nothing, even as his fingernails dug into the palms of his clenched fists. “Veta a la mierda, Wick. Fuck you.”

“You'll regret these actions… I promise.” Smiling a crooked smile, she back up from him, “Now if you'll excuse me… I've got to speak to Fritz. We have so much to discuss.” As she turned, her finger rose and pointed towards his table, dancing in the air over those present, “Eenie, meenie… miney mo…”

Anger rolled off of River in waves, fumes billowing out of him. It felt like he had just had a brush with a touch of control, something he had never had in his entire life. But as Wick turned around, her hungry eyes scowering over the table, threatening to take everything from him, his heart sunk.

“W-Wick… s..stop.” River stuttered, paling. “Stop, j-just… st…” He couldn’t be responsible for their hurt when he’d already been responsible for so much. “Wh...what… name?”

So close. So damn close. But he wasn't ready… not yet. Soon. But not yet.

Without looking at him, lip twitching up, her hand dropped to her side, “Good boy. Rest up tonight, Puddles. Tomorrow's fight is sure to be eventful.” Turning on her heels, she crossed the room to where Fritz sat, sinking down beside him with a pleased expression. After a moment, slowly, deliberately, she leaned close to the red haired man and whispered something into his ear.

River’s posture crumbled. He stayed frozen in position, even as she sauntered away, trembling. There was no way out of this. No matter how courageous he felt… she would always crush him under her thumb like a bug. That little whisper in Fritz’s ear… was she taunting him… or making his worst nightmares come true?

Every step back to the table felt like he was sinking deeper into some abyss. Quicksand. Shaking head to toe, River sunk beside Chloe once more, staring blankly into space. No way out. Never any way out.
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