Prestige or Advanced Player? Look Here! <3

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by moffnat, Mar 24, 2015.

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  1. I find myself in need of one or two more partners for a LONG TERM roleplay. Will you be the one?

    Here are my requirements. PLEASE NOTE that they must be met, don't overlook these. It wastes both of our time.
    • 16 years of age or older. Optional adult content with those 18+.
    • Advanced or above writing level. The closer to prestige, the better.
    • OOC chat. We don't have to be best friends, but friendliness and general pleasantness is a must!
    • Plot with me. I don't want replies like "that sounds good!" or "sure" or "whatever sounds good to you"--help me develop this story and pull your share of the weight. Be creative!
    • No "females only" roleplayers. If you can't play a male character, you aren't versatile enough for the kind of roleplaying I like best.
    • MxF or FxF only. I'm really bad at MxM.
    • Play more than one character, please (but we will each have only one main character of course).
    • Please give me an example of your typical post. Minimum of 4-5 paragraphs per reply.
    • Be proactive with coming up with new ideas for the story.
    • At least one reply every THREE days. No less, more is preferred but not necessary.
    • Willingness to Skype chat with me so we can plot! Not required, though.
    • Worldbuilding, worldbuilding, worldbuilding! I CANNOT stress this enough (for fantasy only).
    For an example of what I expect for worldbuilding/post aesthetic/detail/dedication to the roleplay in general, see this thread.

    Now for my pairings! Bolded ones are my current cravings.

    King x Peasant
    King x Princess

    Knight x Princess/Queen
    Prince x Princess
    Princess x Lady in Waiting
    Arranged Marriage
    Fairy Tale


    Artist x Gardener
    Celebrity x Fan
    Teacher x Student
    Psychiatrist x Patient

    Colonial Era (Native American)
    Western (Native American)

    Ancient Egyptian
    Ancient Roman

    Game of Thrones
    The Musketeers

    The Walking Dead
    Thanks for reading! Reply below if you are interested and meet the requirements, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
    #1 moffnat, Mar 24, 2015
    Last edited: Apr 8, 2015
    • Love Love x 2
  2. I'm still looking! If there are any pairings you'd like to try that aren't listed, don't hesitate to let me know.
  3. I'm very interested. Shoot me a private message if I meet your fancy.


    There was a knock. A single knock that made a solid wood door shake on it's hinges. That door was held captive to fourteen deadbolts, all various types and strengths. This was the door that spouted out a cherrywood handle from a mahogany complexion, this establishment gave it the appearance of age, though the strength remained in tact for all of these locks, one gained for each year the treasure was hidden away. This was where Katrina doubted. Anyone or anything behind this door held no meaning to her, or so she feigned. It was hers, oh, indeed it was. For Ms. Indigo claims that there is no need for the precious, tender prize that lay behind this door in a dusty box, in the center of the dining room table. And though this claim is stated, she feels the need to guard it. Who, with sanity in their bones, would guard something they found to be useless? Katrina saw her heart as a menial thing, a complacent object used too much and loved too little. And still, a piece of her psyche made sure to keep all vulnerability under deadbolt lock and key. That is, until this morning in the home of Jonas the Stranger. Her vulnerability and sensitivity was at a high here. No pun intended, as Katrina couldn't keep the tears away if she didn't force herself to forget of her discovery just moments ago. It was unavoidable to the eye of the man near her, beside the coffee pot. Her legs portrayed it in their soreness from dancing, her eyes were ill refreshed, her chest strained to breathe.

    Katrina's slender fingers let go of the cheap countertop, allowing her lengthy body to slink to the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest and nestling her chin in the crevice between her kneecaps. Trina's chin was the common point in her heart shaped face, bringing her baby nose and big girl face all into one, magnificent package. She didn't see her beauty; inside or out, though it wasn't the common insecurity among women, it was the fact that she didn't see herself as a woman at all. In her stunning body, that attracted so much attention, wanted or unwanted, there was a woman, whether she saw it or not, a confident woman that defied most odds. Katrina accepted that she'd become a cliché, but only in the physical sense. Mentally, emotionally, intellectually...she was doing her best to be better than what is expected of her. If only she could find her purse... she had homework to do.

    Jonas was very quietly hovering over his coffee, almost as if he suspected it was poisoned but was so desperately in need of caffeine that he was contemplating how much anyone would actually miss him. She was quick to get ahold of herself, and never did a sob attack her breast. It was silent, and her hands wiped away the tears, blinking to dry her eyelashes...

    "Can I take you home..." It was a low blow, though she didn't take it this way. It was as Jonas said this, that she realized what she wanted.

    Her father always taught her to make decisions by flipping a coin. He'd give her his last nickel, and ask, "Would you like cookies or brownies for dinner?" This was an indefinite contrast, as Katrina had a strong love for the latter. As for the former, if it were her choice, she'd live off of them. She'd giggle an airy, youthful laugh, through the front of her mouth, where front teeth were supposed to be.

    "Daddy, I can't decide," she'd say, looking down at the coin between her warm little palms that were incased in his rough, worked hands. Derek would nod, smiling down at her as she sat in his lap.

    "Well, heads is brownies and tails is cookies," he'd reply, taking another swig of his Corona before returning his hand to rest underneath his daughter's.

    Katrina would then hop down from his arms, toss the coin into the air, waiting in those few seconds that gravity showed mercy, to see where it would fall. In those moments that seemed to get the best of us, where we make good, bad, or otherwise decisions, she realized what it is she wanted, what side she hoped for it to be. Already she was considering how she would change the outcome, should the coin not fall her way, so her father wouldn't see.

    "or buy you breakfast..." The woman's eyes lit up as she raised her gaze to meet his dark, heavy pupils. Even without a smile, it was impossible not to notice her sudden lift in mood. Because now, she knew what she wanted. What Katrina wanted now was to fix Jonas no matter what, to make it right again, with him, with her, with her father. To drown the guilt with fulfillment. "I like IHOP..." she murmured, licking her lips to moisten them. How soft they felt... "They have good chocolate chip pancakes..." Blue-gray crystalloids locked onto the rest of his face from the floor. How handsome he was to her, though she hadn't paid attention until, amongst the hours of the previous night and this morning. Older than her, though she guessed by no more than six or seven years. Jonas was tired, worn down, and there was sympathy for him, courtesy of Katrina.

    And there it began, the seeds from Jonas falling from the underbelly of heaven, germinating and spreading like a well-attended garden onto the doormat of Katrina's imprisoned heart.
    #4 Kaycey, Mar 29, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 29, 2015
    • Love Love x 1
  4. As soon as I get on my laptop, I will do just that. Thank you for your interest!
  5. Can't wait, dear!
    • Thank Thank x 1
  6. I added some fandoms, and I'm still looking!
  7. Request: Game of Thrones


    The passage from north of Ingotstone that went over the mountains and into Windermere was blocked by a rock slide and the seas were in a treacherous mood as of late. Some suspected that that the disastrous nature had come from the Merfolk and the Giants mourning over the loss of the Queen. Most suspected that Cyrodil had caused an upset balance in nature from being near. Either way, the company of ten were forced to travel through Legon forest to the far east, taking the passage way into Ralda. Not many would dare venture through Legon, much less through the Ralda tunnels. However, six of the ten traveling were natives of Legon, one of them the creator of the forest. So they had little to fear as they traveled. But, Ralda tunnels were filled with a number of nasty creatures and bandits waiting to jump anyone who dared to pass through. Nothing they couldn't handle though. They were all well trained and very good at what they did, even the Prince among them possessing some skill with a blade. Perhaps it would be Callon and O'Malley who would feel the most unease at traveling through the tunnels, one who is of the trees of the forest and the other a native of the sea. Obviously it would be Taur who would be most at ease, as Dwarves lived their entire lives in caves and tunnels whether under the sand dunes or the heavy mountains.

    There was a hush between them all as they first rode out, only the sound of their steeds and the world around them to keep them from going mad in complete silence. But why would there not be? The fate of the Kingdom's happiness rode on their shoulders with this single quest. None of them were strangers to carrying out quests, some more familiar than the others. But one of such magnitude was unheard of. To defeat the mightiest known beast in the land? What a task it was. None even knew where Cyrodil resided. He would harass many lands every few years, but none could follow him high into the clouds when he left. But the King figured that his group would be perfect together to track the dragon. Between the skill and knowledge all of them, surely they could find the creature. And there were rumors of some that would provide helpful insight. Speaking of those such people, the group's first stop was the Summer Isles. Therein lived a Shaman who was said to be quite powerful and capable of helping those truly in need. It was rare that he would help anyone at all, instead living his life pampered by many Selkies and Merfolk of the Irman Sea. O'Malley was the one who had suggested that they visit him. Apparently, she and he went way back. In a totally non-intimate way. She was a pirate and pirates like to party. It seemed somewhat only natural that a Mermaid pirate have eventually found her way to him for a fun time. In a non-sexual way.

    It was late into the day, the sun high in the sky. Though with the canopy of trees above them, it was almost hard to tell. Gwilwîlethien looked around at her companions and let a smile touch her lips. She felt comfortable with all of them because she knew all of them and had a hand in raising four of them. They were an excellent group, the King wise for having chosen them. She had complete confidence that they would have success in their quest, though she worried that perhaps they might not all make it through alive. Of course she worried for Aeron, Herne, Bellona, and Adonis the most – They were very much like her own flesh and blood. But she did care about the others too. While the Queen was very much a dear friend of hers and she did care about the King, she pondered whether one life was worth that of ten. Yes, many died. But the King said nothing of avenging their lives, except for his prized son, Septimus. Other than that, he expressed only the desire to retrieve his Queen at all costs. Gwilwîlethien was a thinking woman and the woman heavily thought man a time about why she held allegiance so tightly with the King. Perhaps it was because of his kind Queen that she still did. Or maybe her honor to uphold their treaty, however loosely held it was on his end. Or maybe it was because he had her son cursed that he would die should he ever mention his particular occupation.

    She had at last decided that she did so for the Queen. While she was happy to have the chance to spend time with her closer friends and “family”, it was almost a damned shame that it took something such as this to bring them together. She had also decided that she would most certainly sacrifice her own life for the sake of theirs. Perhaps not O'Malley or Alaine, but the others. Her bright green eyes flickered to the left and then to the right some, spotting as people and creatures emerged from the flora to watch them on their way. Some of them prayed silently and she would offer kind nods in return. Hair the color of spilled ink fell around her waist as she pulled her massive tiger to a halt, a young child being carried by her father having approached. “Tabhair faoi a bheith sábháilte, mo banríon. Agus b'fhéidir féidir leat a iarraidh Herne a pósadh liom nuair a fhilleann sé?” She spoke in the vivid language of the gypsies, a smile on her dirty face. It was rare to find a gypsy child without dirt on their faces, always roughhousing and crawling on the ground in search of small treasures. Gwilwîlethien held back a laugh as the girl asked of her to assure her Herne's hand in marriage, glancing back at the young man riding behind her. “Dhéanamh mé aon gealltanais, ceann beag. Ach beidh mé ag plé cinnte sé leis.” When Gwen was a child it was hard for her to pick up the different dialects and accents of the gypsy language, roma, due to her own strange natural accent that held the various sounds of nature. But she had over two hundred years of practice.

    The girl handed her a large flower the color of fresh blood, matching the red of her own lips. The petals were almost translucent with a soft glowing core. The Nymph took it gently into her hands and braided it into her hair. The girl's smile grew as miniature flowers of the same kind began to blossom in the gypsy queen's hair, lighting her up and contrasting against the darkness of her hair, but illuminating her ivory complexion. Bidding them farewell, she nudged her tiger steed forward some more, holding her head high for her people. They would not see an ounce of fear cross her features, not even a flicker. She bravely rode among her companions, accepting the flowers and pendants for good luck and returning the nods of her people. As the elves approached, she brought her left arm across her chest, curling her fist over her heart in a sign of returned respect. They just might need all the luck that they could get. She was good with many animals and many creatures. But she had no control and rarely any sway with the darker creatures that roamed the Wilds across the land and most certainly never any dragons. Dragons were rare and she had only ever come across one. It had been one of kind nature that dwelt in the peace and quiet of sea coves. Cyrodil simply put the dire wolves and even the basilisks to shame.


    "Woah, Orome!" Aeron said, as he laughed, his horse prancing around underneath his saddle. It was as if Aeron's excitement was affecting his own horse as they rode with the rest of the company, all of which Aeron knew from either his personal life, or from court. He felt extremely at ease- though his mission cast a dark shadow in his mind- as he made Orome gallop around the group. His laughter tinkled in the air as they passed through forests he knew by heart, as he had grown up running through the trees that stood there. Legon forest was his home, though he had not ventured into it for a very long time. However, an incessant happiness filled him as he rode Orome through the gypsy settlements in the area, and his laughter burst forth as if uncontrollable. Out of all of the companions, Lady Gwen was greeted the most as tokens of good luck and flowers were handed to her by members of her own kingdom. He rode right behind her and her large tiger, eager to be with his foster-mother once more and interested in what many of the gypsies wished to say to her. Aeron pulled Orome to a stop as the young gypsy girl came up to Lady Gwen.

    Tabhair faoi a bheith sábháilte, mo banríon. Agus b'fhéidir féidir leat a iarraidh Herne a pósadh liom nuair a fhilleann sé? The girl asked, looking at Lady Gwen with eyes filled with ancitipation. Unlike Lady Gwen, Aeron burst out with laughter before he clamped his mouth with his hand. Herne! Aeron shot a glance at his foster-brother who sat on his horse behind Lady Gwen and couldn't help but laugh once more. Herne! The Heartbreaker. This girl has the most impeccable taste. Smiling- and still chuckling a bit- Aeron watched as the girl handed Lady Gwen a large blood-red flower and backed away, and followed Lady Gwen as she pushed her tiger to move forwards once more. Aeron opened his mouth to comment on the girl, but a group of elves approached and watched as the group passed by them. He mimicked the motion that Lady Gwen gave to the elves, and turned back to his foster-mother once more, the comment he had wanted to say still raging in his head. However, he held it in as he followed beside Lady Gwen, until the elves were out of sight.

    "That girl has the best taste, doesn't she, Mother? Choosing Herne out of all the men in Thralreth." Aeron chortled, ignoring the fact that his brother could hear him as the group was moving in a close formation.

    Adjusting the black cloak that hung around her shoulders and draped over her body, having not bothered to shed the cloth that hid the fact that she was adorned only in vines, leaves and petals while in Ingotstone earlier, Gwen pulled Cunés to slow a bit so that she was in stride with her youngest, Aeron. “Any woman would be a fool to not swoon at his presence. He's quite the strapping lad. Don't you agree, Aeron?” Her long and pointed ears flicked in quick movements as a smile grew across her lips. Aeron's laughter made her eyes shine and all dark thoughts seemed to simply disappear as he engaged her in a bit of friendly teasing towards Herne, the woman casting a soft wink his way. Always such the strong, silent type. “Agus cad de tú, mo mhac? Cén bean a croí a bhfuil tú ag chasing inniu? An bhfuil tú turas a bhuachan a croí chomh maith?” She switched to roma, knowing that Aeron (and Herne and Callon and Taur) would understand her words. She was hardly discussing anything secret, but it was a more comfortable language for her.

    Aeron blushed slightly, hearing his mother's comment and looked down at his horse's neck. "Bhuel, tá. Tá bean ach creidim nach bhfuil a fhios aici ann agam fiú go fóill." He coughed slightly before looking back at his mother again, an abashed smile on his face. "Ach aon imní. Anois, nach bhfuil an t-am chun smaoineamh faoi mhná, ach de marú ar Dragon agus taitneamh a bhaint as an t-am le mo theaghlach." The words stumbled on Aeron's tongue, as it had been a long time since he had last spoken in Roma, the language of the gypsies.

    Tú, agus mé ag dul a bheith ag plé le do...shaol grá. Mar sin féin, nach bhfuil anois an t-am. Anon.” She shook her head at him and gave a light 'tsk' before offering a smile. Her tone was light hearted, but she really did worry about Aeron. Between his out of control love life, having a new woman on his arm to break his heart every other passing of the moon and the fact that the King cursed him and refused to remove it from him. She honestly was a bit paranoid that the King might have asked Aeron or Bellona or even Adonis to make sure that she didn't make it back alive. Or perhaps he was paying O'Malley or Alaine, or even Cassandra. She shook her head and issued a sigh, managing to keep a smile on her face, though she knew Aeron would have easily seen something was bothering her. She quickly found a smirk growing on her lips though, spotting Taur riding near Herne. She immediately rose her voice so that he could hear it as well, speaking in a most nonchalant tone. “Perhaps it is because I have lead with a bad example. Perhaps my sons would have a more fruitful love life, had I not been so secretive with my own.” She immediately flashed Taur a feigned pout, her brows pinching together as she pretended to be distraught. “But Taur...He's so ashamed of our passion. A Dwarf with a Nypmh. Crazy? Perhaps. But is that not what love is? Nothing more than acceptable madness? I love you, Taur! I love you!” She made mocking (but quite convincing) kissy faces at the Dwarf, much to the amusement of the gypsies and elves gathered within the foliage of the path.

    Aeron saw a fleeting look of worry flash across Lady Gwen's face, but ignored it as she promptly turned to joke with Taur, Aeron's long-time swordsmaster. His eyes widened as he watched his mother make kissy faces at the dwarf, bewilderment growing inside him as he glanced between the two and then at his other adoptive siblings, looking at them all with a questioning look in his eyes. "M-mother?" He asked, his voice filled with confusion. Has something happened between the two of them while I was away at court?! Aeron thought, his brow furrowing. He shook his head quickly. That is not of importance- but, this is going to be a very long journey if this continues...


    As quickly as night had fallen it seemed to fade away, the bright orange sun returning to the sky. But the company of heroes were up before the burning ball, packing up and munching on fruits found nearby, replenishing their water supply. Again, there was tension as they mounted up and continued on north. The tunnels that lay ahead of them caused worry, though Gwen herself was most worried for the Prince among a few others. She did her best to retain hope, having a sliver of faith in their abilities. Just looking at the cave made her quiver some, as it was a path that she herself had only traveled once. She had encountered a number of dangers within and was not keen on having to ever take the path again. But here she was. She had dressed herself in large and tough, almost leather leaves that wrapped about her body from her toes to her neck and fit comfortably. Dark hair pulled back, she followed behind Callon and Taur while Adonis was behind her with Cassandra and Bellona on either side of him, the others bringing up the flank.

    They were greeted by darkness and an eerie, screaming silence. A shiver went down the nymph's back as she tightened the grip on her reigns, using her heels to lightly nudge Cúnes further in. She said nothing, feeling that the sound of the walking animals and their breathing was already too much noise. She was poised to attack, listening for any foreign sound of movement, her eyes adjusting to the dark to catch shadows. The light they had was dim and she was sure that the others were just as nervous as she was. But minutes had passed into three hours and all seemed well enough. Though it wasn't enough for her to loosen up. She flinched at every small rock that fell, grinding her teeth with every creature that flew by, disturbed by the strangers in their tunnels.

    She estimated that if they broke into a gallop they could be to the other side in no time. Her lips parted to speak and no sooner had she uttered a sound did a spear fly through the air, grazing her right cheek and landing in the wall. Cries of battle rang out from both sides as Kobolds seemed to emerge from the walls. They weren't a pretty sight; They were short creatures of dry and leathery flesh ranging from shades of green and brown with bright yellow eyes, sharp rows of teeth, hooked noses, and vicious claws on their hands and feet. Lacking ears, they relied heavily on scent and exceptional sight when hunting. The loincloth clad beasts screamed and leapt at the intruders, brandishing stones and spears. While they seemed unintelligent and tact less they were twice as strong as the average man, accurate, agile, and absolutely beastly. Gwen was among the first to react, drawing her bow and an arrow. With little effort she found her mark, burying the arrow deep into the skull of a creature, stopping it midflight.

    She had to protect the others. Her children. The Prince. Her dear friends Callon and Taur. She would never forgive herself if they died in these wretched tunnels. Seeming calm and collected on the outside, she fired arrow after arrow, often pausing to use her bow to beat down the vile vermin. Hisses, screams, and squeals filled the tunnels and echoed off the earthen walls. The giant tigress joined the fray, her massive claws coming out to shed blood as she crushed the small things underfoot. Gwen had to breathe a sigh of relief that the horses were battle trained, handling the situation by fighting back. Though some, she felt, stayed out of loyalty to their riders. It was touching but she had no time to marvel at the bonds. She had to fight for their lives with them. None of them would die. Not if she had anything to do with it. She remained silent, focused only on eliminating the threat, often looking to assure everyone else was fine, which it seemed that way.


    Two weeks.

    That's how long it had taken for them to work things out. It had been hectic, dealing with everything that had come their way. Things weren't completely sorted out but they were on the road there. Xavier's had been moving people in and moving people out since the death of Wanda Maximoff after she triggered the depowering of mutants all across the globe. Nobody really knew what had happened but the X-Men all knew that it had to do with Wanda, the only mutant capable of warping reality so quickly on such a level. None could even remember, having their minds erased, of the alternate reality she had created. All anyone could remember was life as normal only to wake up the next day and find that mutants had lost their abilities.

    A lot of them.

    Some were awake when it had happened in the dead of the night, watching frightened as they were suddenly no longer mutants. For those at Xavier's, they'd been examined in great detail and it was discovered that their X-Gene was completely gone, without a trace. A few samples had been taken from humans as well and it was found that they no longer possessed the X-Gene that would make it possible for them to one day mutate as well. It was the very next day when the news hit the television screens and internet. The inhabitants of Xavier's Estate felt a tragic loss as Jeanette Summers, the only child of Scott and Jean and the strongest mutant telepath since the death of Charles Xavier, died from mental overload after using Cerebro to see how many were left. She died shortly after letting them know. Scott was barely able to contain his despair and it was a damn near catastrophe trying to plan and host a funeral while at the same time packing up and moving out those who were humans while also seeking out and moving in the mutants who needed their help.

    Two weeks and they had moved out their human residents; It had been easy enough to find them homes when many of Xavier's graduates and former staff members were willing to reach out a hand to the former mutants, some of them now human as well. The staff of Xavier's apologized but there was none needed, as they understood that they needed all the room they could get as well as how being around so many humans could be a trigger for some mutants. Only fifty-three inhabitants of Xavier's hadn't been depowered and all of them focused themselves on moving in the new mutants that began flooding in as well as maintaining security, keeping the protesters, rioters, and the news teams at their gates.

    It was tough work but they managed to do so with a limited amount of snapping on others, breaking down into tears, and whining for normalcy. By the time that the twelfth had rolled around, they were still getting a few new mutants a day and had everyone situated into their dorm rooms and made sure they knew how to get around the house and who the staff members were. Rosetta had managed to find among the refugees some new teachers to replace the ones that they had lost during the day that was now dubbed “M-Day”. She was happy that they could finally begin to establish at least some sense of a normal life after getting everything sorted out, mentally exhausted from the matter. After establishing contact with their former-mutant friends, Rose officially declared things to be back in order. Students had been registered for the school year, and she had made a number of backup plans to discuss with the X-Men.

    Rose grunted as she glanced at the clock on the wall; It was six in the morning. That meant that people would be getting up and getting ready to start their day. Most of the people there, nearly two hundred, had been in Xavier's for a while. However, at least two-thirds of them were still relatively or completely new. She had decided to delay the beginning of school for another week to give everyone time to adjust. She didn't think she'd give them much longer, thinking that getting them into a schedule of a normal life at Xavier's would help them all calm down. She and her team worked hard to shield them from the mess outside and she knew that a lot of people were bummed about them no longer being able to go to the rest of New York City.

    However, many of them that were coming in from elsewhere had barely made it through the front gates, swarmed by throngs of people. There were media reporters all over, angry Christian protesters rioting, and pro-mutant supporters trying to chase away the protesters. Then there were cops as well, constantly breaking up fights. It was a mess out there and Rose had responded by telling the media to wait and making higher walls around the school. She would have to address them eventually and that day might as well be today. The sooner she got them out of there, the better. She would have to deal with the cops as well as local and state government, having a meeting in another thirty minutes with all of them, arranged a rather informal press conference within the mansion by George. The older man thought that it would fare better for them and the rest of the mutants not associated with the Brotherhood if they actually sat down to explain what was going on as best as they could. Revealing the true nature of Xavier's Academy would hopefully help as well, also admitting why it was kept so secret.

    She sighed heavily and stood from her seat behind her desk, looking around her office. She should probably get dressed now, having been in pajamas for a while now. She hadn't really been doing anything for the past twenty-nine hours except sitting in front of her computer, trying to catalog all of the mutants that had come to them as well as wiring money to those who'd left. Charles had left a massive fortune for them and she had essentially cleaned out the bank, sending out well over twenty million dollars to her former students and colleagues who were now essentially on the run – Though, perhaps “hiding” would be a better phrase.

    While they had done nothing wrong, they didn't want to get caught up in the wave of chaos. Now that they were human... They were vulnerable. Most of their families knew that they were mutants and were not supporters; They feared that their human family members would throw them to the wolves. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time for many. Rose didn't mind the lack of money – She maintained the grounds and for the past three years their entire household had been running through the use of alternative generators that were built by Rebecca Howlett and kept running by getting a weekly dose of electricity by Rose and a couple of others capable of generating electricity. She felt that they were in a good situation to sustain themselves without ever having to leave. Ever. But she obviously didn't want to keep everyone a prisoner forever. She wouldn't make them go through something like that.

    She eventually forced herself out of her office and headed up to her room, closing the door behind her. When she had been appointed Headmistress ten years ago she had been stoked to get the biggest bedroom in the house, celebrating by buying a much larger wardrobe. She moved to her closet and inspected her color arranged outfits, moving down towards the blacks and whites. “Oh! I haven't worn these yet!” She grabbed a pair of black Christian Louboutin drapesse with a delighted squeal. Her eyes then floated over to a dress of black and white, pulling it out. “Nineteen fifties chic; I love it.”

    She sighed and laid out the outfit on her bed before heading into her bathroom for a quick shower, moving as quickly as she could. Stepping out, she blasted herself with warm air for a quick dry before heading to get dressed, tilting her head at a knock on her door. “Um momento, por favor,” she called out as she moved to her dresser and grabbed a seven layer black bead necklace, struggling to get it clipped behind her neck, having to shove thick waves of pale gold out of her way. Her shoes came on last, boosting her up to an even six feet in height, making her a bit more intimidating and professional in appearance than usual; She was normally seen wearing a rainbow of bright colors with her hair rotating color constantly, looking more like a student than the Headmistress.

    She headed to the door and pulled it open to see Caelan standing there, welcoming the much larger mutant with a hug. “You look nice, hon',” he said softly. She offered him a soft smile before looking at the clock. “They're here, huh?” She bit down on her bottom lip nervously, her eyebrows pinching together. “Yeah, Nina is at the front door with them.” Caelan shoved his hands into his pockets, clearly worried about the consequences that could fall upon them if the press conference went wrong. She switched to a smile again and placed her hands on his arms, giving his biceps a squeeze.

    Everything's going to be alright. I'm going to need you there... Don't worry about Soph and Skylar; I've asked Tristan to keep an eye on the kids.” As she looked to him for a response, he only nodded before moving for her to exit. His walk behind her was solemn and hers were more confident, the clicking of her heels echoing through the halls as they made their way to the grand staircase, descending a bit slowly. Her unique blue eyes swept across the sight before her. The X-Men had gathered and waited patiently for her, standing in front of their guests. Nina moved to take her place among the X-Men, offering Rose a nod of her head.

    Rose's gaze then turned towards the humans: Gary Markov, the Commissioner of the NYPD, Elaine Roberts, the Mayor of New York City, Jackson Talbon, the Governor of New York, and four people that she didn't know, reporters for news networks. She kept on a brave face and a kind smile as pink wildflowers bloomed from her hair.

    She reached the bottom of the stairs and made a showing motion of opening her arms. “Welcome to Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters.” She continued moving forward until she was standing evenly between her team and the humans, bringing her hands clasped together, resting against her abdomen. “I know that you all, and the rest of the world, have a lot of questions. And I'll try to answer them as well as I can.” Her eyes closed as she took a breath before opening them again, looking into the cameras. “My name is Rosetta Juarez and I have been the Headmistress of this academy for the past ten years. ...Until recently, the majority of the humans who know about this place have believed it to be just an academy for students with extraordinary talents, something like a performing arts school. However, we are a school exclusively for mutants.”

    She took a moment to let this sink in as it was finally admitted to the world. A female reporter lifted her hand, answered with a nod. “Michigan Lousit, CNN. Is this school exclusive to mutants because of its ties with The Brotherhood of Mutants or any hatred towards humans?” Ah, the first and most obvious question.

    No. This school was founded to protect both humans and mutants. Whether born with abilities or having developed them later in life, no mutant will automatically have complete mastery of them. Their mutations are triggered by intense states of emotions and can be dangerous if they don't learn what they can do and how to control it. Because of both this and the stigma against mutants, they are welcomed here to be surrounded by other mutants. This instills them with a sense of normalcy, feeling less like a freak of nature and learning to accept who they are, learning to feel unique. Everyone is required to take Power Control classes under the supervision of my staff members as well as allow themselves to be studied by Doctor Rebecca Howlett, who can help us gain a better understanding of their abilities until they have mastered keeping their powers under control to the point of their accidents being within point oh-five percent and no higher and achieve her seal of approval. And I won't lie: There are mutants here who both hate and fear humans due to prior torture and abuse suffered at the hands of humans, often their own friends and families.”

    Another reporter lifted a hand, this one a male. “Chuck Quarters, Fox News. Exactly what are your qualifications to teach these children and to take it upon yourselves deem these children worthy of not being identified as a threat?”

    To this, Rose took a step to the side and motioned towards the people behind her. “Rebecca Howlett is the world's leading expert on genetic mutations. She looks young, but she is fifty-four years old. She obtained four PhDs before she was twenty years old – One in Quantum Physics, one in Molecular Genetics, one in Nanotechnology, and one in Mechanical Engineering. I'm sure you've heard of her. She has studied every mutation known to date, mapped out the capabilities of them, and named them. She studied directly under Professor Charles Xavier, who, as you know, was the first to bring genetic mutations to light – even though nobody listened to him. Nina Villanueva is one of New York's best family lawyers and a skilled therapist. Her abilities allow her to literally feel the emotions of those around her as well as calm them to help prevent incidents. She is our resident therapist and psychologist. Speaking with her helps the students come to terms with themselves and what they can do. Caelan Howlett is a very well traveled and educated man and everybody adores him. He has several college degrees earned over the course of his many years of life and teaches a number of subjects here. I have a degree myself, so I think that qualifies me to teach. We all possess a great deal of power and knew what it was like to grow up fearing and hating ourselves for some time. This allows us to empathize with our students. Doctor Howlett's studies allow her to help determine their potential and their weaknesses. Our Power Control course is more or less learning to control one's emotions. I'm a bit of a hippy, so I know a bit about that.”

    Finished, she turned before looking back to the reporters. The Governor spoke up this time, clearly hesitant. “There are rumors that you're training mutants here into an army against humans. That you're somewhat of an academy that churns out Brotherhood members... Is this true? What exactly is your tie to the Brotherhood?” She gave another nod, clenching her hands a bit as she launched into the complicated history between the X-Men and the Brotherhood, trying to keep it as simple as possible while maintaining the point that not all mutants were flaming douchecanoes.

    That is not true. We have our own... Security team. The X-Men, named after our founder, Charles Xavier, are a group of highly trained mutants who have mastered control of their abilities and have shown a strong desire for peace between humans and mutants. Generally, our job simply entails finding innocent mutants who are endangered, often at the hands of humans, and bring them to safety. We offer them a roof over their heads, education, jobs, three square meals a day. We offer them a community, a support network to help them heal. As far as the Brotherhood, we are nothing like them. We discourage every mutant that lives under this roof to refrain from letting any existing fear or hatred towards humans to warp so badly that they become deranged, psychopathic murderers. We do not house Brotherhood members and those who have any alliance with them are given a chance to cut ties or they are removed from our grounds. The Brotherhood and the X-Men have a long history; The founders of both were once best friends. However, Charles held hope for humanity and distanced himself. Erik, the one called Magneto, he had suffered too much at the hands of humans and thought that too many others had as well that he refused to lay down and take it any longer. They weren't always this bad. But we've always fought them and tried to protect both humans and mutants from them. They did their best not to harm fellow mutants, viewing themselves as the superior race. But sometimes mutants stood in their way. Mostly us. In short: They vie for mutant supremacy. We vie for equality.”

    Why be so secretive about it all?” The Commissioner spoke up now, taking a few steps forward until he was nearly toe-to-toe with Rosetta. She was about a half inch taller than him in her heels, casting her gaze down.

    Humans already hated mutants enough, judging the entire community for the actions and beliefs of what is relatively a handful. Do you really think that things would have gotten better by telling them Hey! We've got a secret school-slash-community just for mutants, some of which hate humans. We train them to use the powers you think are unnatural, teach them that they're just as normal as you, and we also have a secret special operations team!? I mean... Even right this moment, people are at home hating us for it. We can tell people and show people that not all mutants are evil bastards, that not even the majority or half are, but will they really accept it? We can show scientific proof that mutations are just as natural as everything else... But will they believe it? So far, they haven't. Most of us just want to exist in this world peacefully. To lead normal lives; Have a career, have a family, travel the world. Humans cannot continue to blame mutants for everything wrong with this world. Humans cannot continue to act like mutants are the sole evil, the very source of it. There are humans who are murderers, rapists, child molesters, psychopaths, and terrorists. Despite the fact that for over fifty years we've tried to show that we're not all bad, we've tried to reach out a hand of peace, tried to help, we've been slapped down. Tell me – How's that case going for Erik Lensherr, Mia Tanara, and Lydia Michaels and her unborn child going?”

    She gave a hurt glare now, causing the man to look away. “I've been watching the news. Erik had a family. He has a family. Grandchildren of his watching humans on television talking about the grandfather that loved them as though he is the source of all evil. As though he was just some psychopathic murderer who got what was coming to him. Humans destroyed his life and his family. Just last month, the same reporters that condemn Erik now are the very same who sympathized for the man who murdered fifty people responsible for his daughter's death and was sent to prison. The only difference between that man and Erik is that Erik is a mutant.”

    Everyone was uncomfortable now, the Commissioner taking a step back as she took a step forward. “He has been tortured and abused, shunned his entire life by humans, watching the same happen to his fellow mutants. And no human ever held out a hand to help him. He wanted peace, too! He just didn't see it being possible with humans! Can you blame him?”

    Nobody answered her as she went on, her hands coming undone, now hanging at her sides and clenched into fists as she fought back tears. “He's cared for mutant children abused and cast out by their family – He brought Otis to us.” She turned to indicate a young man with a frightened expression, wringing his hands. “He was born with the tail, ears, and several abilities of a cat. He was no danger to anyone. Yet his parents emotionally and physically abused him every day of his life until Erik rescued him when he was ten while he was on his deathbed, starving and bleeding out. Erik took care of him and then brought him to us to take care of. He was a man who didn't want to see anymore children dying. He didn't want to see anymore people shunned by their families for... Evolving. Otis is twenty-one now and among the brightest in his class and as healthy as a horse, never hurt a fly.”

    Her head lowered and there was a moment of silence before she lifted her head again. “Mia's family filed a missing report a month ago. Lydia's husband filed one a month ago as well. Their families loved them. They were kidnapped. They were beaten, raped, killed, desecrated, and pitched up on crosses at the gates of an academy where we house children as young as five years old... I'm not going to sugar coat it... You bring justice, or we will.” Her eyes were cold and hard as she turned to the Governor, who seemed to be thinking before speaking up.

    What about that depowering... What was that?”

    Erik's daughter... Wanda. She had the ability to manipulate reality. She was so devastated by what had happened to him, Mia, and Lydia that she became hysterical. She thought that all sides of the war were fighting in vain, that we would all be fighting until we were all dead. She believed that the world would be better off without mutants. So, she attempted to erase mutations across the world by warping reality, erasing the very existence and memory of the X-Gene – She was very powerful but not that powerful. Between the strain of such a large scale reality warp, her unstable mental state, and thousands of mutants whose mutations granted them inherent resistance abilities, she died before she could remove all mutations. Once we realized what exactly it was that she was trying to do, one of our own... Killed her. Doctor Howlett has studied the genes of both humans and former mutants and found that their X-Gene is completely gone, as though they has never existed.”

    I'm very sorry to hear that... I have a cousin. He attended here as a child – which is why I addressed the rumors as just that, rumors – and he lost his mutation during this. I harbor no ill-will towards mutants at all. I know that you're all frightened and worried and those idiots out at the gates aren't making it any better. But you have my support and I will do all that I can to make sure that Xavier's Academy is protected. I hadn't planned on announcing this until next week, but a bill is being pushed that will make New York an official sanctuary for mutants. I am pushing for legislation that will protect mutants in this state, whether born here or not. Just remember – we're all scared and we're all worried. But I will do what I can to help fight the fear, the worry, the hatred, and the bigotry. However, I must inform you that some investigations will be conducted; Making sure all of your teachers have the proper certifications and that... Well, make sure that none of the children are kidnapped.”

    The two nodded in understanding before sharing a tight and lingering hug. The Governor released her after some time and turned to the others there, motioning towards the door. “Perhaps you'll get a tour and interviews with them later, but I think they have things they need to do and don't need us in the way. Gary, I need you to get the blues to start rounding up everyone outside the gate and get them out of here. And don't even think about closing that case.”

    Rosetta watched as they all headed to leave, feeling a giant weight off of her shoulders. As the doors closed, she turned to face everyone who had gathered, a smile on her face. “I told you – Everything's going to be fine. So long as there's breath in my body, I'm going to fight to keep you safe.” Caelan stepped towards her, motioning to the other ten X-Men. “We all will... Now, go ahead and go get some breakfast, go play. Make yourselves at home...” He gave a faint smile as people slowly began to disperse, heading upstairs to the cafeteria, grumbling about having only one elevator and that one elevator only heading down. He gave a soft chuckle, draping an arm over Rose's shoulders before looking to the others. Most of them had dispersed as well, likely to oversee that everyone was settling nicely.

    Things are going to be okay,” she whispered softly, her arms wrapping about him as she leaned against him.
    #8 Small Foxx, Apr 3, 2015
    Last edited: Apr 3, 2015
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  8. Hello! I feel like planning and enacting a Princess x Lady in Waiting, now that you mention it! Here are my two latest rp posts, one admitedly far longer than the other as my muse went on overdrive as it was an introduction.

    Intro on steroids (open)
    It was with a bittersweet smile that she woke from an already fading dream of sweet wine and flowers that morning, the young woman's subconscious being aware that she would soon leave her homeland as well as her childhood behind to plunge into the vast unknown that would be the life of a Britannian Princess. While most girls would be thrilled by the life of luxury and privilege that awaited them, as the youngest daughter of the Prime Minister of the European Republic, Estelle Beaufort never knew anything else, and as such to her the change in nationality and status was merely a painful sacrifice she must do to ensure the land she loved so much would prosper as it did since it's funding, centuries ago.

    It was thus with a soft gasp and a sudden lump in her throat that the young socialite left her soft bed and slipped her dainty feet into equally dainty slippers, her silken negligee soon covered with a slightly less indecent robe of soft linen that she expertly tied into place on her svelte frame. Making her way to the main window of her bedchamber, the blonde woman delicately parted the gauzy curtains hiding the outside world from view and made short work of unlocking and opening the french doors unveiled by the parted fabrics. Her path now clear, Estelle made her way to her private balcony and leaned against the white marble of the semi-circular gallery, her manicured hands crossing upon the smooth balustrade as she took in the sight of the Mediterranean sea before her.

    Taking a moment to commit the sight of her homeland to memory as she knew she may not see it again in many years after the ceremony, the Beaufort daughter closed her aquamarine-colored eyes and breathed deeply for long minutes, the familiar scent of the sea and the uplifting song of the birds taking refuge in the chateau she had lived most of her life within settling her nerves enough for her to feel prepared enough to summon her maids and start the preparations that would turn her from a beloved daughter to a royal bride. Making her way back inside was disheartening, yet still she did as her duty demanded of her. Making her way to the intercom made for her personal use, Estelle tapped her index finger to the dark screen, the thing lighting up along with the smooth yet mechanical voice of her personal AI.

    “Good morning, Miss Beaufort, what are your orders?” It would have been slightly eerie to an outsider, that voice, for it possessed neither gender, accent nor emotion of any kind, yet to her who had heard it speak for nearly two decades, that fact was of no consequence.

    “Good Morning, Steward, I request my maid by my side in order to commence the preparation for my wedding ceremony that is to take place this afternoon. Please make sure that they do not forget anything necessary for it, and do tell them to be prompt in their arrival. That will be all, thank you.” Her orders given, the young woman turned her attention away from the wall and toward her vanity, sitting herself on the upholstered chair facing the large oval mirror she had used so many time before.

    Reaching into the middle drawer of the polished wooden furniture, she deftly retrieved her favorite hairbrush and started her twice-daily ritual of untangling her glossy, golden hair. The silky waves of her mane shining softly in the morning light, Estelle ran her silver brush gently through a section of her hair, careful to not pull out any follicle as she did so. While she had once let her maids brush the strands instead, the frequently painful tugging on hers sensitive scalp had made her decide to take on the task herself instead, the women under her employ now only allowed to help her with the more elaborate hairstyles the young woman was so fond of.

    To be frank, Estelle tried to focus on anything but her impending marriage. While she was not opposed to her fiance, she barely knew Arthur, and found the few she knew of Britannian customs to be utterly barbaric. She had been told all her life that it was not birth or pedigree that made someone noble, but instead their own strength of heart, morals and achievements in life. As such, Britannia's belief that only Britannian were to be treated decently was infuriating, their belief that being born in a certain social status putting a glass ceiling on all but the Emperor himself being beyond infuriating and entered the ignoble territory in her mind. That she was to be sold to such a narrow minded Empire scared her quite a bit, if she was honest with herself... yet she had to put on a strong front, so that the Republic may continue its noble stand against the oppressive Darwinian Empire.

    As such, her face may have really been made of creamy marble and no one would have been able to tell the difference as the Daughter of Europe dutifully followed her various maids' urging as first she was stripped bare and washed in lukewarm waters and aromatic oils then dried gingerly with the softest of cotton cloths, as to not leave any marks or blemishes on her skin. After the baths came the exquisite yet impossibly intricate garments befitting a new Imperial Princess, along with the lengthy process of perfecting her new coiffure and the appliance of expensive cosmetics on her smooth face. When all was done, she was make into a work of art with the adding of priceless jewels accentuating her features and the nearly glowing splendor of her hair. The very last part of the preparation was for Estelle to wear long silken gloves, the ring finger on her right hand easily accessible by a specially-made slit in the glove's finger.

    'This is is, then... no more time to bask in the freedom that will soon be no longer mine...'

    Eyes shadowed yet resolute, the blonde made her way to the chateau's chapel, a small army of maids in her wake as they made sure that nothing tarnished the pristine white of their young mistress' bridal gown. The short journey to the ceremony's premises was silent save from the sound of life common to the vast domain, those crossing their path quick to make way for the regal woman in their midst.

    As such, it was in no time at all that Estelle took in the sight of the elaborately carved double doors leading to her soon-to-be husband, her father's firm arm that she took in her grasp as the doors opened her sole comfort as she made her way to discard the Beaufort name and to take on the name Vi Britannia.

    More usual post (open)
    The remainder of his day was as dull as as the English sky overhead the ancient buildings he took as his temporary home. Everywhere he dwell was nothing but dull simpering and lousy attempt at seduction, and frankly he was far too hungry and discomfited by the cold to find it anything but aggravating. It was so that when the last bell he had to hear of they day sounded, he did not bother with ridiculous human courtesies and roughly shouldered his way through the hormones-charged masses to his current safe haven, a single room in an isolated and abandoned dormitory on the very edge of the campus.

    There he could finally breath, and it was with a certain sense of anticipation that he retrieved the few strands of hair he took from the intriguing girl earlier that day, his steps long and smooth as he made his way to the hidden altar he made the night previous in order to form the mental snare that would allow him remote access to his chosen victim that night. Various vials and pouches of varied dried plants and parts were on a series of shelves designed for easy access in the small room, the objects nearly invisible in the dark. On the altar itself was an athame dagger of dark designs and craftsmanship, made to pierce his usually invulnerable skin in order to gather the dark blood needed for the ritual.

    On the ground was placed five dark red candles, each forming the shape of the pentagram he soon drew with a thick chunk of charcoal in precise and practiced strokes on the old planks of wood making up the floor. The process would have taken quite sometime without experience and preparation, yet it was nowhere near the most time consuming step of the ritual, a fact made clear as the incubus finally dropped his makeshift tool before approaching the still pristine altar in the very middle of the room. With a slight hiss, he swiftly slit his palm with the engraved blade waiting for him and carefully retrieved the dark strands of the girl, firmly squeezing the thin lock in his bloodied palm as he started chanting in a dark and forbidden tongue, the five candles at his feet igniting in black flames at his feet one by one as his blood flowed to the stone of the altar and down each lines leading towards the now melting wax towers, the passage of the corrosive liquid making the pentacle glow an ominous red.

    It was as the third hours of the next day sounded in the moonless sky that the ritual was completed, the demon licking his now healed wound free of spilled blood before making his way to his bed, a predatory look on his eerily beautiful face giving away his intent along with the malicious chuckles emanating from the deepest part of his lungs as he lay down, ready to finally satisfy his curiosity and, with enough luck, quell part of his now ravenous hunger.

    As he finally closed his eyes, he was free from his human form and returned to his natural chimeric nature. Following the thread that lead him to the girl in the land of dreams, the incubus quickly found his victim-to-be, easily overcoming her sense and mind as he turned her dreams into his own playground.

    'This should be fun...'

    So, yeah, I hope you find my samples to your liking and that your decide to contact me!
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  9. Some of my partners have abandoned, which means I've got more open spots!
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