The City of Ipses

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Laifan

Edgebabby
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Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
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Male, Primarily Prefer Male
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Tend to be on the aggressive side but I am always open to plot suggestions.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Yaoi, Magical, Super powers, Slice of Life, Sci-Fi
Genre You DON'T Like
Extreme Gore, Disturbing Themes (Sexual Violence, Suicidal Tendencies, Terminal Illnesses)
#1
The bookstore wasn't very busy at that time of the day, thankfully. There was an elderly man with a cane by the door checking the recipes section, a couple of high school students in the English literature section, a mother trying to check the novels while her very loud and energetic kid ran around the place and a tall guy by one corner. Aslan relaxed some at the fact he wouldn't have to be in a cramped store with strangers as he made his way in, untangling his headphones from his wavy strands (he'd really been meaning to get his hair cut, if only just a bit). As far as bookstores went, this one didn't really have the worst layout and that's why he'd chosen it. He didn't really expect to spend much time in here - only long enough to get Sarah's school book from the French language section, pay, and leave. He wasn't usually that adverse to the place but one seemingly endless shift at the convenience store with very demanding customers had gotten him in a mood.

He made his way to the intended section, the now muffled beats of his music still making it to his ears from the headphones resting around his neck. He struggled to wrestle the wire from his hair, while his other hand hit the sound button to kill the remnants of the music completely, lest he disturb anyone inside. He'd had enough of condescending people for one day. He promptly ignored the loud kid still running around the center bookshelf with the children's section and turned his attention to the labels with foreign names in the French section.

Something on the corner of his eye caught his attention, though, and he glanced at the man on the opposite side of the store. He was by far the most interesting person he'd seen all day, whether because most people seemed impossibly ordinary and boring or because he certainly had a different…air about him. He was certainly good looking - he seemed young, but something about his semblance spoke of a sort of maturity that belied his age and, overall, he seemed sort of...mesmerizing.


Aslan swallowed dryly, returning his attention to his search and ignoring the way his heart had started a sort of staccato in his chest. It wasn't the first time he'd considered a complete stranger good looking and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It had just been too long since he'd last get any sort of attention and perhaps he was starting to feel a bit lonely. Even if he'd been the sort of guy to go around talking to strangers trying to get their contact details, the other man seemed miles away from his comfortable hoodie, faded jeans and worn jacket. If Steve was here he'd either be telling him to stop daydreaming or making him trip in direction of the stranger - you could never tell which direction Steve would throw you. He smiled idly as he imagined that event playing in his mind, hand scanning the labels in search of the correct letter for the author's last name's initials.

His hand had just closed on the small spine of a book by one Saint-Exupéry when a sudden, impossible bang echoed nearby, the whole store rumbling as if the earth itself had decided to open a chasm in that very place. At least it was what it felt like, when his body was thrown harshly away, as if he was a worn, useless ragdoll being tossed into a trash can, his hands extended to try to get a grip anywhere.

As it usually happened when caught by surprise, his telekinetic abilities activated automatically (it was more out of instinct than conscious control). While that didn't stop his fall and painful collision with the side of a bookshelf and carpeted floor, that made all air leave his lungs with a painful gasp, at least the massive bookshelf that had threatened to topple on top of him stopped in midair, the heavy books frozen amidst the now half-darkened store. The only source of light was coming from a flickering lamp, struggling to remain functioning when all its siblings had perished to the force of the explosion, and the eerie red emergency light that activated in case of a power failure.

The air was permeated with smoke and ashes, stiff with danger and the loud echo of a persistent alarm could be heard from the store next door, along with muffled screams and an assembly of confusing, loud sounds. He could only stare, eyes wide and now of a molten gold color, at the large hole that had opened in one of the walls. He could glimpse at least two menacing figures from amidst the smoke and fire, one carrying the unmistakable shape of a gun - although with this kind of power, one would wonder why the hell they would even need it. It seemed some sort of heist on the jewelry store next door had gone very wrong, very fast.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#2
Damian Nault had settled himself into a surprisingly plush armchair he'd found tucked into one corner of a family-owned bookstore, only a couple of blocks off the street mall of downtown Ipses. It was the third store he'd walked into, chosen because he'd liked the shape of the window and the lay of the bricks. However, unlike the other two where he'd turned around and left almost as soon as he walked through the door, Damian stayed here because he liked the atmosphere.

This store appeared to have mastered the quiet art of the bookstore. The woman behind the front desk had smiled at him as Damian walked in, but didn't otherwise speak. The air smelled faintly of ink, paper, and coffee, and the room was kept comfortably warm and dry. Even the over-energetic kid running in the background couldn't entirely disturb the peace that seemed to have literally soaked into the air.

Damian had chosen a book at random from the shelves near the chair, and opened it to a random page somewhere in the middle before starting to read. He stretched his long legs out slightly, one crossed over the other, his foot rising and falling in time to a silent beat. And, seated like that, Damian read, paying more attention to the feel of the seat against his back, the sound of pages turning, and the faint breathing of the bookstore's other occupants than he was to the actual words on the page in front of him.

Perhaps that was why Damian was able to notice slightly before things began to go wrong. Even through the think brick wall of the bookstore, Damian was just barely able to catch the sound of yelling voices, a woman's high-pitched scream. For one moment he felt the floor under his feet tremble slightly, before the wall to Damian's right suddenly crumbled.

Dust and brick, pieces of paper from torn books, flooded through the air, accompanied by the deep rumble of an explosion. Damian glanced up from his book, a frown on his face. The air around him seemed to faintly tremble, as the dust that was flying through the air near him began to slow, as though the particles had suddenly passed from air into clear molasses.

Two people hurled themselves out of the hole a moment later, one of them nearly tripping on a toppled bookshelf. One of the two thieves, his entire body wrapped in white fabric, had a small bag slung over his shoulder. The other, clothed in an almost gaudy purple, skintight suit, moved in front of his companion, a gun held tightly in his hands.

"Everyone out of the way!" he shouted, a strange glow beginning to gather at the tip of the gun as he aimed it towards the far wall. Apparently, he was planning to blast his way into the next building, rather than head outside.

Damian's frown grew deeper, and he closed the book with a sharp snap. Despite the chaos of the situation, his behavior seemed to more closely resemble someone bothered about being interrupted by an unwanted guest than someone who had suddenly found himself in the middle of an ongoing robbery.

"You are being noisy," Damian finally snapped, eyes narrowing towards the two intruders. "This is a bookstore, not a playground."

The white-robed villain turned towards this sudden interruption, his face buried behind a smooth white mask. "Who the fuck was asking y-ugh..." Before the man could finish his sentence, however, he gagged, the hand not clutching the bag reaching up to paw towards his neck.

"Be quiet," Damian scolded, before turning towards the man in purple. "And put that down! You're making a mess, and someone is going to have to clean up after you."

The bright glow at the tip of the gun instantly shattered, like a glass bobble dropping onto the floor. An instant later, and the gun in the man's hand began to ooze through his hand, as though the metal had suddenly turned to slime.

Silence reigned. No one seemed willing to move.

"Better," Damian agreed, before picking up his book again.
 

Laifan

Edgebabby
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Tend to be on the aggressive side but I am always open to plot suggestions.
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Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Yaoi, Magical, Super powers, Slice of Life, Sci-Fi
Genre You DON'T Like
Extreme Gore, Disturbing Themes (Sexual Violence, Suicidal Tendencies, Terminal Illnesses)
#3
Aslan chose to let the bookcase drop slowly to the floor, as it was probably too damaged to stand. Then, he gingerly began to pick himself up from the ground, trying to assess his aches and pains. There were several and his back must be a colorful mess of bruises but he didn't think anything was broken. He'd broken an arm once and that felt distinctly different. Plus, he gathered he'd have more trouble moving.

He looked around, trying to check if the other people had been as lucky as him. There was no sign of the old man and the students, which he hoped meant they'd managed to escape the madness and weren't under any of the toppled bookcases. The mother with the child were huddled further away, near the exit, and they didn't seem too hurt. The woman was seemingly trying to calm her terrified kid (who was glowing in a weird light - most likely his ability out of control) and the store's owner was peeking from behind the counter.

He turned his head to the other side - the man from before had been closest to the explosion site on the other side, he was probably… Still sitting calmly and turning the pages in his book, hardly a hair out of place. Huh? He blinked, wondering if he'd hit his head or something, but didn't really have much time to think before the burglars came through the hole in the wall. They were dressed a tad too gaudy to successfully pull the sneaky criminals look but he was admittedly more worried about the big gun on one of the man's hands than about their fashion sense.

He tensed when the other guy talked to the criminals that way. Was he mental or something?! He was going to get himself blown to bits! But then the next events made him question his eyes even more as the villain choked for some reason and the gun seemingly…melted through the man's hand. Was that the guy's ability?

The criminals were certainly as confused as himself, if not more. They wisely put some distance between themselves and the sharply dressed man (who certainly seemed fresh out of a shower, not an explosion) and started to back away in direction of the door.

Aslan felt himself relax, glad they were leaving. The bag of jewels was not his problem - if anything had been drilled in him by his superior at work was that, in case of armed robbery, he didn't worry about the goods, but himself. Plus, he could already hear loud sirens echoing in the distance and certainly one of the city's pro heroes would be here soon as well.

But, of course, criminals that decided to rob stores and then blow walls away certainly lacked the ability for good judgment. When the guy in purple noticed the mother and the kid by the door, he paused minutely. “Let's just take the kid for insurance! We'll never escape the cops without the gun.”

Aslan bristled as he heard that. It was bad enough they'd caused this much damage, but taking a child hostage he certainly couldn't ignore. His eyes turned again a shade of liquid gold, his hair and clothes momentarily defying gravity, as he glared at the criminals and willed the heavy tones from the shelf above the two victims (neatly labeled Law) to propel on the men’s direction. Sadly, being clobbered upside the head with law tomes didn't seem to reset their moral compass, but it did put some distance between them and the mother and child.

“Go! Run!” With that he ensured the men's attention was diverted to himself, and thankfully the woman wasted no time in scurrying away with the boy. Dragging a heavy bookshelf to bar the criminals’ path seemed a good decision, in case they still tried to go for hostages, but it meant they were also cut off from the exit. Admittedly, he was not the best person to think strategy in a pinch - he always lost in board game nights.

The two men turned to face him, their bodies tense in anger. “You! Move that thing away!”

He knew it would be wise not to antagonize them further, really. Despite them being seemingly unarmed now, their abilities were probably on the offensive side, even if he didn't bet them to be more powerful than his, since from their rough voices they seemed be middle aged and the younger generations tended to have more powerful abilities.

Still, he wasn't much of a fighter and this certainly wasn't like in the movies, where the main character always seemed to be able to walk away unharmed, battle experience aside. He knew the sensible thing to do would be to move the shelf away and let them leave. But, honestly, he'd just had a generally crappy day. He'd had to put up with cranky customers who wouldn't even look at his face while demanding this and that, always in a hurry, and ‘Hello’, ‘Please’ and ‘Have a nice day’ had been rare expressions that day. So he really couldn't help himself when his automatic answer was “You forgot the magic word.” His mom did warn him that his lip when tired would get him in trouble someday. He really thought her mild clairvoyance was only good to let her tell the weather for the following day.

The villain in white stiffened at that, fists clenching. “You're dead meat, boy!” It was easy to find out what the man's ability was, as there was a loud bang and sudden heat thrown in his face. Thankfully he was quick enough to block the explosion sent his way, flinging some books in front of him to act as a shield. It seemed the earlier gun increased the man's ability to make things go boom. As it was, he didn't seem to be able to make big explosions, thankfully. Still, it was the second time in that day he found himself thrown on the floor, but at least his back was spared the impact this time. The odds didn't seem to be in his favor.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#4
Damian tried to turn his attention back to his book as the two intruders began to shuffle their way to the door, but he sighed in frustration a moment later.

The atmosphere was entirely ruined.

Sure, the book and the seat were still the same, but that had only been a very small part of what attracted him to this location. No, it had been the peace and quiet contentment that he'd like best. And that was entirely gone now, replaced with the stench of stress and fear.

Damian knew, as soon as the villains were gone, he'd be leaving as well. Even if he did stay, there was no way he'd get any reading done. The heroes would be here soon, followed by the Cleanup Crew. Doubtlessly they'd want to get statements from some of the gathered people, so that when the villains were finally caught it could be properly added to their sentence.

Maybe, once the Cleanup Crew was gone and the bookstore was restored to its former state, the atmosphere Damian had been enjoying would return. But, until then, this place wasn't going to be much better than a living hell. He had no intention of sticking around to wait through the mess. Maybe there'd be another good store a few blocks away he could inhabit for a few more hours until the sun set and he went home.

However, a couple of seconds later, Damian slowly lifted his head from the book again as he realized that the villains hadn't actually left. There was the sound of something colliding, a shout, a scream. When Damian turned his gaze towards the villains again, the two had turned to antagonize a young man with long hair, and glowing yellow eyes. The one who's voice hadn't been sealed by Damian earlier was even shouting.

Shouting. Again.

Damian's book shut with an unnaturally loud snap.

"Fine," Damian said, softly but clearly. It wasn't really obvious who his words were directed towards, if anyone at all. "Fine. Atmosphere's already ruined." He stretched his shoulders slightly as he stood up, moving almost leisurely, before his eyes suddenly snapped to the two villains.

"Everything was going fine until you two arrived," he continued, still all but speaking to himself. "And you're still making noise. It's obvious that I didn't get my point across clearly enough. Allow me to rectify that mistake."

Something in the air seemed to tremble, spreading like a ripple from Damian. A moment later, and the walls and floors began to move. At first the motion was barely noticeable, until the floor suddenly surged upwards. It grabbed onto the villain's legs, trapping them in place. A second later, and the ceiling reached down from above, splitting into three, looping around the villains' wrists and neck.

Before the purple clothed villain even had a chance to scream, he and his buddy were hoisted into the air, the fluid walls tugging them until they were stuck, suspended in the middle of the room in a spread-eagled position. Despite the obvious panic that was causing their eyes to go as round as orbs, neither of the two seemed capable of making a sound, or resisting the bonds created from the ceiling and floor. Perhaps even more oddly, both were clearly trying to use their quirks. Little sparks like fireflies kept silently going off around the bindings, but they made neither a sound nor a dent. The man dressed in white kept flickering in and out of visibility, but the effort appeared to be gaining him nothing.

Damian nodded slightly as he watched the two struggle. "You can wait there until the heroes show up for you," he explained politely, as though he was some host inviting a guest into a lavish waiting room. He was just about to turn towards the door when his eyes passed over Aslan, and his step slowed.

"Were you trying to play a hero?" There was neither ridicule nor any actual curiosity in Damian's tone. It seemed more like a statement of fact, framed as a question. "Were you gambling on the fact that I'd save you, when that obviously ill-conceived plan backfired?"
 

Laifan

Edgebabby
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Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
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Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Tend to be on the aggressive side but I am always open to plot suggestions.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Yaoi, Magical, Super powers, Slice of Life, Sci-Fi
Genre You DON'T Like
Extreme Gore, Disturbing Themes (Sexual Violence, Suicidal Tendencies, Terminal Illnesses)
#5
Aslan had just been bracing himself for some kind of painful impact as he tried to both get his legs under him and back away from the threat. His eyes were watering from the earlier explosion and he knew that his quirk was compromised when he couldn't exactly focus his eyes. It was hard to focus in general with the burnt paper smell and smoke that now permeated the air and he coughed in a feeble attempt to open his dry airway.

That was why he mostly missed the earlier motions from the other man's corner, having been focused on the eventual pain and doom coming his way. Except then the room was moving. He blinked his teary eyes to try to see better, and yes, it was definitely moving.

And just like that both criminals were restrained by part of the ceiling and the floor. Not only that, the men apparently couldn't utter a word or use their quirks. He swallowed dryly as he witnessed the tremendous power displayed. The other man seemed to be around his age - certainly no one in that generation should have such power?! His heartbeat was loud in his chest and not entirely from adrenaline alone.

He slowly picked himself up from the floor, giving up on dusting himself off because he was certain he must look and smell like someone who attended an overdone barbecue.

His breath caught in his throat as the man acknowledged him for the first time and he couldn't help but notice he looked like he'd just been walking a high end street, and not playing part in restraining dangerous criminals in such a setting. He might as well be a deity with that sort of control over things.

The words took a while to register in his tired mind, the adrenaline crash making him a bit light headed. However, his fingers tightened their grip on the shelf he was leaning on and he straightened himself up as much as he could.

“Me? I'm no hero. They could take the jewels for all I care. But they tried to hold that kid hostage. That… That I can't ignore.” He looked the other in the eyes intently at the mention of being saved. He didn't seem to be making fun of him, at least.

He shrugged idly, then winced at the discomfort emanating from his shoulder. “I… didn't really have a plan in mind.” That much was obvious, but way to come out as dumb to the other. However, he didn't overly care, as he was tired. They were miles away from each other, and not just because of the difference in power. The other man emanated aristocracy from every pore. “I just did what I felt was right.” He ran his free hand over his hair, moving some dirty strands away from his face.

“Thanks for the help.” He said, extending a hand to the other. Like the rest of him, it was covered in soot and dirt. It was also shaking a bit but he was promptly ignoring that fact. “I'm Aslan Torche. You can call me Aslan.” He was aware they'd probably never meet again but at least he'd have a name to put to a face. And what a face, a small part of him thought. He found that it was difficult to draw his eyes away. The blue-grey eyes seemed as if they were drawing him into the depths of a frozen lake. Huh, had he perhaps actually hit his head? He wasn't usually one to wax poetic about other people's looks.

Something else occurred to him and, in his current state, it was out of his mouth before he could properly filter it. “You're my first savior.” He just managed not to groan aloud and bite his tongue at that. He was probably coming off as a total dork.
 
Last edited:

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#6
After a moment's silent consideration of the young man's dirty hand, Damian extended his own hand and took Aslan's shaking lightly. "Damian Nault," he introduced in turn, his eyes dropping from Aslan's golden orbs to his hand again.

God, the kid was shaking.

Damian forgot sometimes that most people weren't actually used to villains. At least not the truly violent ones. Even though the world was covered in people with powers these days, and you were just as likely to run into a troublemaker as a good person, few people ever actually found their lives under threat.

Damian supposed he had to give the heroes some credit for that, at least.

He sighed slightly, before faint lights began to gather around the hand that was in Aslan's grip. However, as Damian pulled back his own hand, the little lights continued to swirl around Aslan's hand for a moment, twinkling cheerfully and letting out a warm glow. Although it would be hard to tell under their amber glow, the dirt on Aslan's hand was rapidly disappearing.

The instant his hand was clean, the warm little lights seemed to bounce in excitement, before racing up Aslan's arm, seeming to chase each other across his clothes, circling around his body and then down his legs, before dissolving into the floor.

There was a small smile on Damian's face, but it didn't quite touch his eyes. "I'm no savior, no more than you're a hero." It was obvious that Damian believed his words, and it wasn't some false attempt at humbleness. He seemed completely ignorant to the fact that his attempt to comfort the young man, as unconscious as it might have been, belied his words.

"You should be more careful with yourself in the future, Aslan."

With a small, two fingered wave, Damian turned away from the other man, beginning to make his way towards the door. He definitely wanted to be out of here long before the heroes showed up.
 

Laifan

Edgebabby
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Tend to be on the aggressive side but I am always open to plot suggestions.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Yaoi, Magical, Super powers, Slice of Life, Sci-Fi
Genre You DON'T Like
Extreme Gore, Disturbing Themes (Sexual Violence, Suicidal Tendencies, Terminal Illnesses)
#7
Damian. Of course the name suited him. He smiled faintly at the man.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw the light on his hand, emanating warmth. What…? The small lights traveled over his body and soon he was free from all the dirt and soot. He also felt warm and comforted, as if he'd just taken a shower. He couldn't really hide the wonder from his face. This ability seemed so gentle, yet it was the same power that had choked and trapped the villains. He'd never met such a person before.

“You're… More of a savior than you give yourself credit for.” He said. This man was a complete mystery, one that he couldn't help but want to decipher.

He felt a bit more grounded after that small display of power, no longer feeling like he would fall if he took a step forward, so he stopped leaning on the shelf. But then Damian was all but saying goodbye to him and… He really didn't want to never see him again. But he didn't really have a reason to stick around or to meet again, right? They were from clearly different worlds.

“Wait! I…” He clenched his hands at his side. His eyes turned a vivid golden, hair and clothes floating softly, as if swept by a breeze and the massive bookcase in front of the door moved away. He knew the other had more than enough power to make his way through but it was the polite thing to do. And despite how he felt about it, it would be very petty to try to stop the other from leaving. Nevermind the impossibility of it.

“Um…” He tensed when he heard new commotion from the jewelry store next door. It seemed the police and whatever hero available had finally arrived. They seemed to have taken an eternity, but probably it hadn't been that long - minutes just seem unbearably long when your life is in danger. He heard the cheery bell from the bookstore door opening and decided to give up trying to find an excuse to follow the other and just did it.

As expected there were quite a few people gathered outside, along with a security perimeter set by the police. He tensed up, because simply walking away from all that seemed suspicious as hell, not to mention, even if they were identified as victims and not perpetrators, they'd probably need to head to the station to give their account of the facts.

However, nobody seemed to notice them walking by. He had honestly been expecting something like that to happen around Damian. He realized he was following him like a lost puppy and hadn't really given the other a good reason to do so. He didn't want to come off as a creeper but he gathered the other man could blink him over to someplace else by winking or something.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#8
Damian offered a final, small smile to Aslan as he moved the shelf out of his way, before stepping out through the door. With a thought, the air trembled again, while a faint mist appeared around the two villains before vanishing like mist.

When he'd been seated in the corner, he had created just a large enough space to cover the main room of the bookstore. That had been more than enough to subdue the two disruptive villains, but it wouldn't be able to cover most of the crowd Damian could already hear gathering outside. Instead, he'd broken his previous space, before instantly setting up another, larger one from the door. He could feel the people contained within it, and closed his eyes briefly, before stepping out confidently.

The crowd, focused mostly on the jewelry store, didn't notice as Damian exited, and the few people that were blocking his way unconsciously stepped to the side as he drew near. However, before Damian had made it more than a few steps from the front door, he noticed a long-haired young man tailing after him. A second later, and the cloak of anonymity Damian had put over himself extended to Aslan as well.

"Leaving as well?" he asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder. "I would have guessed you as the type that would be interested in meeting heroes in person." Damian shrugged slightly, clearly unconcerned.
 

Laifan

Edgebabby
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
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Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Tend to be on the aggressive side but I am always open to plot suggestions.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Yaoi, Magical, Super powers, Slice of Life, Sci-Fi
Genre You DON'T Like
Extreme Gore, Disturbing Themes (Sexual Violence, Suicidal Tendencies, Terminal Illnesses)
#9
The young man smiled wryly at the other's words. “I just did.” He said. He then shrugged one shoulder, the other still sore and perhaps inflamed. “The other ones I see on TV all the time. Plus, it would take too long to give my statement at the station.” His hero worship phase has been when he was around ten years old. He certainly wouldn't have missed the opportunity to ask for autographs and stuff like that. Now, while he still appreciated the heroes’ service and duty to the city, he really had no interest to stick around that crime scene.

They walked for a while and, sadly, he knew they would have to part ways soon. The tram stop he took to make his way home was just around the corner and there really was no viable excuse to stick around Damian. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and sighed. The city was a big place, but he only hoped they would meet again, somehow. The tram stop was soon in sight and he gave the other a small wave (another handshake seemed a bit too formal) and smile. “I'll take the tram here. Thanks for the help again. I'll… See you around?”

The rest of the day felt surreal to him, whenever he thought back about the heist. He could have told someone - his friends, his family - about what had happened, but he didn't want to worry them. Plus, he didn't think he'd be able to describe Damian in any faithful way. Of course, his friends could tell he was distracted the next time they met, but thankfully weren't too pushy about it. His days at work seemed again endless and his heart would skip a bit whenever any tall, dark haired man would come into the store, but the face was never right. Steve was on his case when he heard him sigh for the umpteenth time on his last visit and promptly told him to either forget whoever it was that was making him so dreamy or do something about it. He wished he had even that option, though. What were the odds they would meet again?

Apparently those odds were in his favor, though. He'd been chewed out by Sarah (teenage girls could be so dramatic) for having “forgotten” to get her book for school. She even said she would get it herself, but he immediately offered to do so again. He knew there was little chance another incident like that would happen again, but he was very protective of his little sister and couldn't really imagine her in any sort of danger without his stomach clenching in a knot. So, after researching another local bookstore, he made his way over after work.

It was a very rainy afternoon, the dark clouds apparently making a show of covering the city in a liquid mantle. He opened the door to the small, almost hidden store and got in, closing his dripping umbrella and setting it in the appropriate place by the door. He ruffled his slightly damp hair (everything got damp with rain, even if he'd avoided getting wet with the umbrella) and looked around idly.

There weren't many people around, and the minute his eyes swept over a place by the corner, he had to do a double take to confirm it wasn't a case of deja vu. But no, there was a definite familiar figure sitting there, and this could be a replay of that day, really (he hoped with way less explosive drama). He couldn't help the smile that graced his face, even as his heart skipped a beat. Turns out he would be able to follow Steve's advice, even if he didn't really know yet what “doing something about it” would entail.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#10
Damian chuckled lightly at Aslan's statement about it taking too long to give a statement. Yes, that was, in no small part, the reason why Damian left himself. He wasn't one for hero business, neither the showy side of it, nor the tedium of paperwork and repairs that came after the heroes had done their job.

They walked in silence after that part, and Damian found it unexpectedly comfortable. So many of the people he'd met always felt like they were desperate for something, but were too intimidated to every actually say anything. It filled the air with a demanding sort of discomfort that practically screamed to be broken. However, that atmosphere that always so bothered Damian was notably absent. Aslan seemed genuinely content to simply travel along with him, both of them simply dwelling in their thoughts.

It therefore took Damian almost by surprise when Aslan suddenly paused, offered him a polite goodbye, and turned off for the nearby tram. Damain watched him walk away for several steps, one brow lightly lifted. That had been... well, it had been unexpectedly pleasant. "Until our paths cross again," Damain agreed, a small smile crossing his face, before he turned and continued walking down his path.

Damian lived in a mixed-use building downtown, the stairs to his apartment near a candle store. It filled the hallway and the rooms with the faint scent of fruit and vanilla, which was part of the reason Damian had chosen the place. He followed the stairs up two floors, before coming to a halt at the last door, top of the stairs. It opened into a spacious but comfortable living room, a good-sized kitchen, and a small balcony overlooking the street below. Damian walked to the center of the room, before releasing a new space. It rushed to fill the corners of the room, flowing into the bedroom and bathroom, but politely stopped at the walls, not intruding upon the neighboring residences.

On the counter and table, candles lit themselves, while faint music began to fill the air. With a satisfied smile, Damian moved over to the couch, before sitting down, grabbing a book from the stand, and resuming reading as though he was still in the bookstore.

Damian spent the next days continuing his seemingly random exploration of downtown Ipses, watching the buskers perform for tips, exploring the little parks that interspersed the taller buildings, and generally doing his best to avoid any sort of commotion. Damian quickly began to realize, however, that the latter goal was proving unexpectedly difficult. Ipses was a large city, but even in comparison to cities of equal size, it was obvious that it had a growing villain problem that even the upsurge of heroes looking for work couldn't fully block.

However, it wasn't hard for Damian to stay out of the villains' way. They didn't choose their targets at random. No self-respecting villain would attack a rose garden filled with elderly people and young couples, or a bakery that sold miniature cupcakes. And Damian's efforts to avoid conflict proved remarkably successful.

However, when he woke one morning to a heavy grey sky and light rain, Damian knew his outdoor exploration was coming to a halt. Remembering the bookstore from earlier, and it's pleasant atmosphere before the villains showed up, Damian picked out a place far away from any particularly appealing targets, and made his way to the building.

This place was larger than the little place he'd found before, and slightly noisier for it. However, despite the fact that it had an upper floor and a basement that were emptier, Damian still picked a chair in the corner of the main floor, listening to the sounds of conversation as new groups entered the store, and the people waiting in line moved up to the cashier to make their purchases. Noise could be as comfortable as silence, if it was the right kind of noise.

He found another book, picked at random from the nearby shelves, and settled into the chair to read for a bit.

However, shortly after he'd made it past the first chapter, Damian felt someone's eyes lock onto him, before the person started to approach. Damian lifted his gaze, brow faintly wrinkled in annoyance at the interruption, before he suddenly recognized the shaggy-haired figure approaching. His faint frown was immediately replaced by the smallest of smiles.

"Aslan, wasn't it?"
 
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#11
He figured hovering by the door would get him nowhere (plus, he'd be in people's way) so his feet automatically led him closer to Damian, as he wrecked his brain for any topic that seemed half interesting. The slight frown on the other's face reminded him too late the other man really disliked being interrupted from his reading, but when he saw him… Well, he didn't seem as irritated.

“Yes. So, we did meet again.” He said, with a small smile of his own. As usual, Damian seemed unaffected by any occurrences around him, this case being the rain outside. He could imagine the other walking around without even needing an umbrella and ending up looking as impeccable as usual.

He half pondered asking what the other was reading but thought back on it - the question seeming the saddest excuse for idle talk in this setting. Besides, Damian seemed to be fond of his privacy, as far as bookstores went. “I ended up leaving without my book last time, but it seems this store has it. You know your kid sister is too grown up, when she starts ordering you around.” He said with a wry smile.

He hesitated a bit once again, wondering if it was OK to sit down at the same table for a while, but a bookstore hardly seemed a place for idle conversation. Which again raised the issue of him eventually leaving and them meeting by chance again. Or follow Steve's advice and ‘do something about it’. Of course to Steve these matters must seem very simple, since not only was frequently under some sort of ‘inspiring’ substance, as he and Hannah had been going solid for six years now. Well, he might as well just bite bullet on this one and wait to be brutally rejected.

“Um, would it be alright if I invited you over to lunch or something? As thanks for helping me the other day.” Well, at least he'd put it simple enough, if not a tad too blunt, as was his norm. He was also doing some quick mental math regarding his finances until the end of the month, as he was expecting to part with quite the sum for the type of suitable fancy restaurant. It's not like Damian was the fast-food type, right?
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#12
For several long moments after Aslan asked him out to lunch, Damian studied the other man, his gaze critical.

This wasn't the first time someone who had seen his powers had asked him out, to a meal, to coffee, to join an alliance or organization. Up until this point, he'd turned down all but two of them. This was because, down to a man, they'd all had ulterior motives in their request. Of the two he'd accepted, one had been a desperate, lonely woman, craving companionship of any sort, and the other was the man currently paying for Damian's apartment, a man who had found himself in a dangerous situation with the life of his teenage son used as a bargaining chip.

Those two, they'd wanted Damian's help, or his company. The others, they'd all wanted Damian's power. They'd seen his potential, and they wanted to use it, as a get-rich-quick scheme, as a force that could elevate their reputation, as a tool to make their lives easier and more comfortable.

And so Damian studied Aslan, wondering what kind of person he was. Damian had seen the young man's power, so he knew that Aslan hadn't followed him at a distance, arranging a "coincidental" meeting for their second encounter. The two had truly met in this store by chance. Faintly, the air around Damian rippled, all but invisible to anything but the most attentive eye, and a rush of emotions colored the air around the wild-haired young man.

Nervousness, embarrassment, hope. Distinctly absent were the hues of green Damian had come to associate with greed or envy. Was that a trace of lustful pink floating around the edges?

Damian suddenly smiled, and the space dissolved, taking the colors along with it. "Alright," Damian finally agreed, saving the young man from panic inducing silence. "Now? Or some other time?"
 
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#13
The suspense after his question only made him certain of the other's refusal - perhaps he was thinking how to word things in a polite manner? Still, the scrutiny was making him even more nervous - he hoped the dark haired man just hastened in saying no so he could go lick his metaphorical wounds. Not that he'd had any high expectations of the other ever accepting - he wasn't pessimistic, just very realistic.

The light coming in from the big window was just so that he could glimpse the faint particles of dust hovering in the air. It suddenly seemed all sorts of different hues, though - that was what had minutely drawn his attention. He blinked and, just like that, it was gone. Huh?

At the same time he got Damian's reply, and it took him a few seconds to process it. Wait, had he just agreed?! And… Now?! He resisted the urge to look down at himself - he was certain he looked barely appealing with the weather outside, just a level above something a cat had dragged in. He was certainly not ready for a date now - he had to properly freak out about it first!

“Um, now would be… A bit too soon.” He said, not wanting to sound indecisive by first inviting the other and then changing his mind. But he wanted it to be as perfect as possible. “I mean, I'm a bit… I have other plans today.”

He settled for that, trying to calm his thundering heart, and trying not to give much away. As far as Damian was probably concerned, this would be just a lunch. He didn't even know if the other was interested in guys. Someone like him was probably committed already, no? But would he accept a lunch invitation if he was? Not if he thought it a friendly affair of sorts…

His mind was again going a mile away and he was just glad he wasn't muttering any of this aloud, as he sometimes did when trying to focus.

“How about this next Saturday? Are you free?”

He hoped that didn't sound like as bad a pickup line to the other as it did to him. And it was in these moments he was certain he didn't suffer from a secret coronary condition, because he was fairly sure he would have dropped dead twice already, with the way his heart rate was going.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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Roleplay Invitations
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On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#14
Damian smiled lightly and comfortably at Aslan's nervousness. It wasn't much of a surprise to him to learn that the young man was busy; there were few people who had the opportunity to spend their days quite as casually as Damian. However, he hadn't known the other man's plans, and if Aslan had asked to go now, Damian would have agreed. It wasn't as though he had somewhere else to be, so to him there was little difference between now and the weekend.

"Saturday is fine," he agreed, nodding his head slightly. However, a moment later a thought seemed to occur to him, and he set down his book before reaching into his pocket, fishing out a silver colored smartphone. He unlocked it with a quick swipe before passing it over to Aslan, the screen showing an empty new contact field.

"Your number," Damian prompted gently. "Unless you'd rather work out all the details now, of course."

Something told Damian it wouldn't be much of a surprise if the other man, distracted by his nerves, wandered away without a method to contact Damian, and let him know when and where they'd be meeting.
 
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#15
He smiled in relief, glad the other had accepted.

“Oh, right.” It was highly possible he would have forgotten such a basic thing as asking for the dark haired man’s contact details. He took Damian’s phone and inserted his number. His own phone vibrated in his pocket shortly after, as he’d called his own phone to save the number. He returned Damian's with a small smile.

“Thanks. Um, as for the place… do you have any preferences? Any food you dislike or...allergies?” Wouldn’t it be ironic a man with his sort of power had food allergies? But he figured he was human in the end - just happened to have some amazing abilities.

In the end, he’d left all major planning for later. He still needed to process the other had agreed to have lunch with him. So, as soon as he was a few blocks away from the bookstore (thankfully it had stopped raining) he called Steve.

“He said yes!” Were the first words as soon as his friend picked up.

“Whaaat? You getting married? I’m totally best man, right?”

“What? No! No, I’m not getting married, I just...‘did something about it’ like you said.”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “That’s my lil’ bro.” His friend promptly ignored his “You’re just two months older” remark. “So, who’s the lucky guy who said ‘yes’ to whatever proposition you made? Are you sure you’re not getting married?”

He rolled his eyes. “I swear you’re worse than a mom. I’m not getting married. And he’s... “ Yeah, how could he describe Damian? “This person I met the other day, he’s...different. We’re having lunch next Saturday.”

“Wooo, different, huh? He’s gotta be, if you’re this happy about lunch. So, where are you taking him?”

He ran a hand over his disheveled hair. “Remember when I said he’s different? ...yeah I can’t really take him to a regular place, I don’t think. He’s…”

“Dude… You really are head over heels with some guy you just met? You know what, Hannah might know the right place to take Mr. Impressive Prince. You know she knows all sorts of people from her work.”

“His name is Damian.” He informed his friend. “And thanks, I really appreciate it.” Also, because it was just occurring to him he had no idea what he would even wear. Yes, Hannah’s help was sounding like the salvation he needed in this situation.

As expected, he spent the rest of the days in countdown mode for Saturday, both dreading and looking forward to the day. Hannah’s help had indeed been invaluable for both finding a suitable place and clothes. The restaurant he’d only managed to schedule because she knew people was definitely a fancier place than many but it wasn’t the over-the-top haute cuisine type that she’d also promised to be able to pull off. He was very glad about it because he was convinced ties were a creation of the devil and he would never be able to wear one for long in any sort of comfort. So, if it had been the best of the best, they wouldn’t have been able to relax much and have a pleasant time.

He’d also resisted the urge to contact Damian, except to inform him of the restaurant’s details. He didn’t want to come off as overbearing and he was bad with idle conversation to begin with, much less by messages.

In the end, he’d gone with Hannah’s suggestion, and just donned a pair of beige slim chinos, a button down shirt and a navy blazer. He’d actually bothered to shave, for a change, and managed to tame his hair and slick it back with hair gel, which a exposed a small scar on the side of his eyebrow. Still, he felt distinctively out of place, in comparison to everyone else there. He’d gotten his share of sideway glances and he’d just arrived at the restaurant. It wasn’t even supposed to be a restaurant meant only for higher status but he figured some people were petty like that.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
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On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
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Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#16
"I don't much like spicy food," Damian replied, taking his phone back from Aslan and tucking it into his pocket. "Other than that, I'm quite flexible."

It didn't seem like Aslan had much intention to stick around after having successfully gotten Damian's agreement to lunch. The antsy young man shifted from foot to foot, and Damian simply smiled lightly at him before picking up his book again, giving Aslan the opportunity to nervously depart. However, Damian couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of his eye as Aslan picked up a book on French, paid for it, and then made his way out of the store.

He was a good person, Damian decided. In a world full of heroes and villains, Damian had still rarely encountered someone so full of innocent honesty.

Damian remained in the store for several hours more, casually perusing the books before purchasing one of the ones he'd sampled quite at random, in payment for the enjoyable hours he'd spent there.

It wasn't until later that evening that a message finally came through from Aslan, with a perspective time and place, checking if it worked for Damian. He agreed, and looked the store up on his laptop a short while later.

It was a semi-formal Chinese fusion restaurant, built in the nice part of downtown. While the place accepted walk-ins, the general consensus online seemed to be that you needed a reservation if you didn't want to be waiting over an hour for a table. The pictures showed red seating and carefully decorative food, while the online menu was covered in golden dragon scrollwork.

It was, frankly, a lot more formal than Damian had been expecting from the messy-haired young man. Somehow, the word 'lunch' had only inspired an image of a sandwich diner with large pots of soup. All the same, Damian dressed smartly for the occasion, in black slacks and a clean, white collared shirt, sleeves rolled partway up to show his forearms. Dark brown shoes and a black belt with a silver buckle later, and Damian was out the door, early only if you didn't consider the fact that he planned to walk to his destination.

The restaurant was right at the edge of downtown, when the buildings dropped from the sky back to a normal height. It was a corner building, with white walls and tall windows that let the golden light spill out from inside. Damian approached the building with his hands tucked into his pockets, scanning the gathered people for a familiar figure. As he approached the door, he suddenly caught sight of a familiar young man, and Damian lifted a hand in greeting.

"You... alright?" he asked as he approached, one hand lifting in a casual wave. "You look like you're waiting for someone to try and spit on you."
 
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#17
The restaurant itself seemed nice, at least, as well as the food, if the alluring aromas permeating around the place were anything to go by. He could simply ignore any unpleasant people - he’d gained a sort of filter from his workplace. Besides, any company that really mattered would be the person he’d invited for lunch.

Damian was easy to spot from the other people on the street, as expected. He was glad he hadn’t chosen the over-the-top place, as they were both smartly dressed but still comfortable in their clothes. He smiled at the other, ready to greet him, but the unexpected funny comment got a surprised laugh out of him. And, just like that, he felt himself relax in the other’s company. It seemed the man was as human as him and could actually crack jokes like a normal person. “I was half expecting that at some point…” He said, highly amused. “Just...nevermind that. Thank you for coming. Shall we?”

They were shown to their place after he gave his name to one of the waiters. The physical menus had the same golden dragon scrollwork as the ones online, but the paper had an embossed effect to it. The prices were definitely on the steeper side but he didn’t ponder on that – the other man had essentially saved his life (or at the very least saved him from very painful injuries) so he wouldn’t care if he was spending a good part of his savings on this. Even if the Damian hadn’t helped him, he certainly wouldn’t have minded buying him lunch.

After browsing the menu for a while, they eventually ordered some food and a good rosé wine while they waited for the food to be ready. He wasn’t usually a heavy drinker, but he knew how to appreciate a good wine on special occasions. Their table was just by one of the big windows, so they had lots of natural light streaming in, the golden mixing with the pink hues from the glasses and bottle, giving life to a cosy ambience. The rainy weather from the latest days had given way to a sunnier autumn day, some white clouds occasionally covering the sunlight, but it was still overall pleasant and it was definitely warmer inside.

Now that they were sitting just the two of them, with hardly any distraction from other people - he’d forgotten any glances sent his way, no longer self-conscious about his slightly casual look - he was again beginning to feel nervous. He was not used to have attention from someone like the Damian, after all. Any topic in his mind that seemed halfway interesting with everyone else, seemed like it would fail with the dark haired man. Thankfully, it didn’t got to the point of uncomfortable silence, as their waiter arrived with some of the (non-spicy) food. Aslan was glad he’d ended up choosing Chinese, as he could maneuver his chopsticks pretty decently, so at least any embarrassment wouldn’t come from that part.

"We were lucky to get a spot here. I heard this place is pretty exclusive." He commented idly. Well, not so much being lucky as knowing someone who knew someone.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SITE SUPPORT
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
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On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Fairly aggressive. I'm perfectly happy to guide the story, but if your posts never move the plot forward at all, then we'll have a problem.
Favorite Genres
Modern fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by high fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Genre You DON'T Like
Not a big fan of purely realistic stories. I want something more than real life in my plots please!
#18
Damian followed half a step behind Aslan and the hostess as she led them to her seats. The wait staff seemed to have taken the themes of the restaurant to heart, as they were cleanly dressed in black pants and matching tunic suit, which had been highlighted in red at the end of the sleeves, around the collar, and down the row of buttons in the center of the top. The waitress navigated artfully through the tables, guiding them to a two-person table near the window that was neatly decorated with a white tablecloth and silverware rolled up in red napkins.

As Damian sat himself he picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before spotting the shrimp curry he'd identified earlier. Damian had deliberated earlier over whether or not it would be appropriate for him to order, as it was one of the pricier curries on the menu, before eventually deciding it would be impolite for him to ignore Aslan's good intentions. If he hadn't wanted to offer a good meal, Damian doubted he would have chosen a place like this.

He didn't feel pressured by the silence between them either, watching the waiters move around the tables and greet customers with the same relaxed sort of contentment he'd shown in the bookstore. At least before the villains had shown up. However, judging by the smiling faces of the customers and the efficiency of the waiters, it didn't seem like some hot-tempered fool was going to blow up the atmosphere because they didn't like the way their chicken was cooked.

However, it didn't take long before he began to notice the slowly building nervousness that seemed to ooze off of Aslan. Comparing the slightly disheveled young man with the tinges of pink emotion in the bookstore to the more carefully dressed one in front of him now, it wasn't hard for Damian to guess that Aslan felt somewhat out of his element here.

However, small talk had never been his forte. Damian was far more the type to remain silent unless he had something he wanted to say, than seek meaningless conversations simply to fill the air. His apparent ability to diffuse the tension earlier had been far more accident than intentional. He'd made what felt like a genuine observation, although he hadn't minded Aslan taking it as a joke one bit.

Luckily for the black-haired man, their waiter arrived with a distraction only a few minutes later. Damian quickly picked out a piece of shrimp from his bowl with his chopsticks, before devouring it in two neat bites. Only then did he turn to the bowl of rice off to the side, using the serving spoon to dish some out and then pour some of the curry over the top.

"It's a nice place," Damian agreed, taking another small mouthful of food. "I can see why the wait times might get fairly lengthy. Is that stroke of fortune why you chose the place? It doesn't seem like the kind of place you'd usually frequent, judging by how uncomfortable you were waiting by the door."
 
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Tend to be on the aggressive side but I am always open to plot suggestions.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Yaoi, Magical, Super powers, Slice of Life, Sci-Fi
Genre You DON'T Like
Extreme Gore, Disturbing Themes (Sexual Violence, Suicidal Tendencies, Terminal Illnesses)
#19
Aslan turned his attention to his own food momentarily - duck with orange and a serving of rice as well, with some veggies on the side.

“Hm, it really isn’t my usual type of place.” He confessed. “But...I wanted to bring you somewhere special.” He froze momentarily, as that came out being entirely too true. He had some of his wine, hoping the slight flush to his cheeks could be easily justified by the wine.

“So, I asked my friend - she knows all sorts of people in her area of work. She’s a designer, you see…”

And, just like that, in an attempt to conceal any earlier embarrassment, he wasn’t without a topic of conversation for long. And talking about Hannah and Steve (especially the later) could make for some very interesting stories, as his friend got them into all sorts of trouble when they were younger, including but not limited to, failed attempts at climbing trees to take the perfect picture of the landscape (resulting in a broken arm and the slight scar on his eyebrow), piercing their own ears at home (he was still missing a bit of cartilage from the resulting infection) and all the endless trouble Steve had gotten into as a result of being able to basically print anything he saw as pictures.

Talking about his pleasant childhood memories with his friends got him to slowly relax - the food and wine certainly helped as well. This was certainly different from any previous lunch dates he’d experienced, if only because there was no one trying to impress him with idle talk. In fact, he wasn’t used to being the one leading the conversation, but he found that he didn’t mind it one bit.