R
Riviera
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Thank you for reading.R P ✎ S A M P L E S
- #1
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"That there's Lucifer galloping out in them craggy hills."
The carriage hit a shallow ditch and shuddered, mud sucking at the wheels before it jerked loose in a forward lurch. Rain washed away splatters of wet earth clinging to the door's filmy window in an endless spiral of pointlessness, further emboldening the misery and uncertainty of the trip. Inside the carriage the occupants were at a loss as to what to say in reply to that unexpected declaration. Nearly all of them shifted uncomfortably after the moment elongated into a silence.
Mrs. Brickle, sitting in the middle of the rear seat with the dignity of a dowager duchess despite the coarseness of her speech, had been the most stoic of all of them until that statement. Never had the stalwart matron so much as blinked when morning clouds had begun to gather and deepen in color forbiddingly. Not a single complaint had crossed her lips when the deluge had exploded with a brutality that had flattened the earth underneath. Nary a single expressed concern about roads unfit to travel on or regarding the tempest that was presumptuously unkind for mid-November. Hardly a word at all in reference to the rain up until that moment. They might as well had been taking a carefree gamble down a sunny hill as far as the matron had been concerned. Until that odd choice of words had indicated otherwise.
Elyse was the first to gather her wits and decide to engage with a coy smile, a stray curl sticking to her cheek from underneath a jaunty little feathered hat. Even the humidity and tight quarters could do little to diminish her beauty.
"Why, Mrs. Brickle, what an unusual turn of phrase that is. Almost poetically beautiful, one might say?" Her eyelashes lowered flirtatiously though her gaze never flickered to give away that the whole business was an impromptu show for the two gentlemen sharing the vehicle with them. Olivia had not a single notion as to how one could be so brazen yet subtle in machination. Such deftness lay so far beyond her repertoire of skills that she admired the whole business in its illogical entirety without being moved to partake. A professional would only be hindered by an amateur.
- #2
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Hmm.
That was all he could seem to manage at that moment. A rather brainless hmm noise that started in the back of his throat and then went nowhere. Nowhere useful, anyway. Leon wasn't sure he'd ever been quite so without something useful to say before. It was an unusual and unpleasant state of things. Was that how the insipid and the vapid usually felt? He'd never sympathized overmuch with their kind before. Perhaps he should be gentler and more indulgent of their flaws in the future, having tasted numbing emptiness of feeling like an absolute blithering idiot.
Perhaps. Yet that did nothing to resolve his dilemma. A dilemma that his companion was enjoying if the grotesque width of his grin was any indicator. Of course Roz would enjoy his discomfort. No one else in the world would savor it as much as his cousin. Roz would cherish the moment until they were old and gray pending that they were lucky enough to arrive at senility.
"Perhaps," He volunteered with a deliberately monotone voice. "If we did not do the suicidal plan our dear resident Lord suggested and instead follow the witch's advice then perhaps we may reach the border before the army catches up to us." If on an occasional word the blandness was stressed to the point of implying heated emotion then so be it. He had been through the blazes of Hell and back for the royal brat out of misguided loyalty to the former Lord Ephraim. Enough was enough.
- #3
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[BCOLOR=transparent]The house was quiet. A solitary footman slept with his shoulder propped against the wall, awaiting the telltale sounds of a carriage rolling down the cobbled streets. The master of the house was out for the night and was not expected before the sky turned color towards the warmth of the sun -- or the gray dimness of overclouded skies. Adjacent to the kitchen slept the cook and scullery maid while the butler slumbered with an arm crooked under his head on the cutting table, fingers curled around the neck of a smoky bottle that smelled distinctly of cheap liquor. All dreamt the vacuities of the unwary, undisturbed by grim thoughts.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Beneath the ground a different scene played out that spoke not of a happy domicile but instead of dark magics that would send horror down the soul of any God-fearing Christian. Candlelight glinted off the edge of a scalpel set before a porcelain basin. A thin layer of dust coated the inside of the basin, smelling faintly of dry herbs and a hint of black powder. The slender figure of Rose Alistair ill-fit the dark walls covered in shelves but she appeared confident as she drew the tip of a brush down through the dust, using the bristles to draw a design much the same way a schoolchild would use their fingertip on a dirty window to sign their names.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]She paused; glanced at the clock. The inner chamber had no access to the outside world save for the door that led up a staircase that was only accessible from her father's room. Even the servants were ignorant of its existence though not for lack of trying on their part. The strong magics that kept it safe, protected, also shrouded it from the eyes of the uninitiated, softened the reality around it until even seeing the opening directly would swiftly fade from conscious mind like a dream upon awakening. But this protection was not going to do much against her father if he returned home early. She prayed and crossed her fingers that he would not. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Relied[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] on that. Even if the crush at the charity ball held by Lady Whickam did not engage his attention for long, he would not come back to the house without first visiting his gentleman's club. Or a hell. The Earl of Harcourt did not skimp on his pleasures without good reason. And as he thought Rose was tucked obediently into her bed that night and their discussion over, he had none to suspect otherwise.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Except he didn't know his daughter very well. When she had an idea she [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]stuck[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] to it. And when another body was fished out of the Thames with the eyes and the tongue missing that morning, Rose's idea had become a [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]plan[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. Tonight, somewhere in London a pair of eyes and a tongue would be laid out somewhere along the ley lines that ran through it. Just as the pattern had repeated for nearly a month on every third or fourth day, the pattern repeating. A corpse. A missing body part. A gruesome discovery in a different location. Death was no stranger to the city but this was something altogether different. It was not merely salaciously horrifying gossip, it was a [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]problem[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. And she hated that her father had chosen the 'wait and see' approach on her theory. Which meant that he thought she was wrong.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"I am [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]not[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] wrong on this." Rose muttered to herself. Alright, so she might have predicted a few incorrect things, seen a ghoul in the shadows when there was nothing. But was that not her legacy? Her responsibility? As the last in the Alistair line it was Rose's purpose in life to find the evil men did with forces too dangerous to be controlled and drive them out. Even if she had to get her hands dirty to do it. She rather resentfully thought that her father was far more an Earl than a proper alchemist now a days.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]She picked up the scalpel and drew a slit under the arm that emerged red and then began to drip into the basin as she contracted the muscles, ignoring the burning pain and slight dizziness of watching her own blood flow. Everything else was set. A case filled with bottles of fine Scottish malt whiskey and Italian wine was set in the middle of the room, pilfered from her father's private collection. The cigars on top had been her own purchase, discreetly bought and hidden by a maid for her. A strange collection of items but apparently her great-grandfather was quite insistent that this was the correct procedure to summon one Anenial from Hell. She had to trust his notes on this, his were the most recent and well-maintained of the lot when it came to this deity. Unfortunately Arthur Alistair had possessed equally terrible writing and drawing skills. It had taken her far too long to decipher the array and instructions correctly. Dawn was not too far away.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]She was getting a little sick watching the cut bleed. It would have to do. Rose hurriedly wrapped a bandage tight around her arm, looping it awkwardly and tying it off as best she could with one hand and lack of experience. Then she selected a bottle of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]prima materia[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] and poured it in. You couldn't get something from nothing, that was basic alchemy. You had to sacrifice and exchange. She only hoped it would be enough and stepped away from the table, carrying over the basin to the array drawn on the wooden floor with chalk.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Carefully the mixture was poured. It behaved against the normal laws of physics, not splashing onto the floor but hovering inches away before it reached, then dividing into tendrils that followed the byzantine patterns of the array. This went on until the last drop covered the last of the white chalk. And then she waited. Rose was half-expecting something grand to happen. Flash of lightning, perhaps. But sometimes magic was not at all showy, not in the same way a fake magician would fool the audience with distractions to perform a trick. She set the basin down, an incongruous summoner of a demonic entity as any in her lavender nightgown wrap, slippers and braided hair, having snuck in after the maid had come into the room to help her change. But she barely spared that a second thought, crossing her arms (with a ginger wince, forgetting about the cut) beneath her chest and waiting expectantly, observing the still liquid which had settled finally onto the floor as a whole. She'd done it correctly despite having to do it all on her own and under shrouded means. Now came the big question of whether Anenial would listen and agree.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]He had to. She didn't know what she was going to do if he didn't. Rose pressed her lips into a determined line. And waited.[/BCOLOR]
P l o t s ☺
- [TAKEN] Binding Contract: Regency, Supernatural
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Victorian England. The rise of science is only accompanied by that of the occult. By day the people crowd the museums and attend lectures. By night they hire mediums to speak to the dead for them. They know that one is real and the other isn't but it is thrilling to think that perhaps the otherworldly does exist.
Lord/Lady (A) on the other hand, is quite sure it does. Whenever something unnatural happens in London it is the duty of (A)'s family to deal with it. How? By making a contract with a demon. Now there's something sinister crawling about in Whitechapel, preying on the weak and unfortunate, and it's (A)'s turn to take up the family duty. (B) is either the demon summoned or the fiance of (A) who is unaware of the situation and begins to grow suspicious of what's happening.
- Willing to play either (A) or (B). More details and concepts to be worked out via discussion. Would prefer M/F for this one.
- Never a Bride Even on Her Wedding Day: Fantasy/Fairytales, Adventure
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(A) is the princess that gets spurned in favor of the commoner with the kind heart and hair the color of spun gold. The princess the prince never actually ends up with It's not her fault, she never even shows up properly in these tales, she's simply an inconvenience waved away by the power of True Love and Happily Ever After.
And frankly, she's sick to death of it! In the world of Everend, everyone sticks to their designated roles. The witch curses people. The wolf plots to eat the children. The godmother always shows up at the right moment. The woman who marries the King always plots his downfall. It's an inexorable as the dawn. (A)'s purpose in life is to always be rejected. Sometimes she's the mean competition, other times she's the graceful loser. But she always gets ditched. And. She's. Not. Putting. Up. With. It. Any. More.
So she leaves to find her own true love. Or at least something far less soul-killing than always being the unwanted choice.
- Looking for someone to play (B). What their role in the story is, exactly, is up for discussion. They could be someone sick of their own reputation, a villain, or someone sent after (A) to return her to her proper place in the story. Want some fun adventures playing with fairytale tropes.
- Getting the Story: Contemporary, Sports, Humor
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(A) is a reporter assigned to covering (B)'s soccer team. (A) is determined to be professional... but she's never been into spots before and could barely tell you what a corner kick is. Now she has 24/7 access to one of the world's best teams and is expected to write an amazing article about the experience or she's out of a job. Great. Easy. What could be so hard about doing a fluff piece? Ask a few questions, Google up some quick terms, no problem.
What she instead finds is that footie fans may legitimately be nuts, you never know what country you're going to be in for your next friendly and that she's way in over her head.
- Looking for someone to play (B). The details of their relationship (friendly, distant, argumentative) can be worked out. Soccer/football team can be from either side of the Pacific.
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Darkest Parade: Contemporary, Historical or AU, Supernatural.
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(A) is part of a supernatural family/guild that keeps other supernatural creatures in check when they threaten the balance of things. As a result they're loved by no one, hated by some, and only warily respected by others. (B) is a member of a human organization dedicated to the same thing, albeit with technology and a lot more money. (B)'s people see (A)'s as dangerous vigilantes and equal threats as the creatures they slay. As a result it isn't pretty when these two sides clash, as each have their own reasons for distrusting the other. But when (B) discovers there might be a conspiracy brewing in their organization, they're forced to turn to (A) for help. Will they?
- Can be set in modern times, historical time period or an alternate version of either. Willing to play either (A) or (B). More details and concepts to be worked out via discussion. Open to M/F or M/M.
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