Hello everyone! I feel like it's time for a clean slate on this site. I'm searching for a partner who's interested in a story prompt that I've already written. It'll be posted below, if you'd like to give it a read. A few things to keep in mind: - I'm looking for someone comfortable and willing to do multiple paragraphs. - I want a partner who can play Jeanne. Her character is left largely unmapped so that my partner can take advantage if her secretive nature. - I'm looking for fun, most importantly, so let's have fun with it! - If this shameless dump of words interests you, please shoot me a PM and we can talk about it. ~~ Into Her Darkness "His eyes were dark, darker than the River Styx, and their depth served only one purpose - to capture. There was proof, too, that they functioned; the young painter herself was trapped in them. She wasn't, however, sure that she wanted to escape. . ." ~ Lydia's eyelids fluttered open as something warm dripped down her hand. Yawning, the coffee table before her came into focus, and more alarmingly, so did the now-empty mug that rolled back and forth on its side, leaving behind a pool of light mocha liquid. She blinked several times. "Shit!" The former contents of the the cup were now on her hand, her pants, her carpet, and even worse, the physical copy of the manuscript she held in her lap. She scrambled, her movements clumsy in her waking moments, to set the mug upright and shake the brown liquid off of herself and the thick collection of papers. Rising to her feet, she let the manuscript dangle awkwardly between two fingers as she walked it over to her bathroom, where she gathered a fistful of paper towels. "I am so done for!" she croaked, frantically patting the pages dry. When she finished, there was a dull, yellow stain that diffused along the upper edge of the document, obscuring the large words that read "Incitement". Lydia let out a long, disappointed breath, slumping her shoulders. "Of course. You get one rare masterpiece of a manuscript - and a physical copy, at that - and you spill coffee on it. Way to fucking go, Lydia." The young editor trudged back into her apartment living room, toting the book under her arm, and let the paper towels soak up what was left of her clumsy mistake. It was something unusual for her; she was usually much more alert. Dozing off while editing a book? That was not her. The truth was, Lydia had been presented with a strange case. A freelance editor for two years now, Lydia was used to being sought out by aspiring novelists looking for fair prices. They would meet her, hire her, and she would spend her time carefully suggesting changes to improve their work, her tablet and stylus in hand. Such was not the case for Incitement. This manuscript was mailed to her with included payment and no explanation. She had no prior contact with the author, and knew nothing of who he was. All that was present was the return address and a first name: Edgar. Odder still was the fact that the book was flawless. She found herself completely immersed in the novel, forsaking her red pen. It felt like someone had already edited it before her, and just to be sure she wasn't going crazy, she read through it a second time. And on the third try, she gave up. "Incitement." The word idly fell from her lips. Each passage stuck with her, and each word seemed to fit perfectly together into a mosaic that told the story of an artist who finds her muse in an exiled prince averse to attention. It was darkly enchanting, a sharp contrast from the airy romantic novels that made up the majority of the content she edited. The novel itself was tasteful, yet it spurred dreams and fantasies that she never thought she would have, dreams that woke her in the middle of the night, panting, face flushed. The story left her wanting more from this Edgar person. Long before Lydia finished reading and rereading his work, she resolved that she would personally follow his address. Now, as Lydia stared blankly at the tainted document, she knew that this was the time...for both a meeting and an apology. ~ Ding. Lydia retracted her finger from the doorbell and took a step back. She shivered, in response to both the wintry air blowing straight through her grey cardigan and the nervousness that built itself on the car ride to the estate. And yes, the place was large enough to be called an estate. Luckily for her, the front gate was wide open, although it did feel like she was intruding. It was late, after all. The woman of twenty-four took one last glance at the stained manuscript than resided in the bag slung over her shoulder before the door swung open. Lydia looked forward, then up. Tall. "How may I help you?" asked the man who seemed to be her exact opposite. His skin was quite pale, different from her own lovely shade of brown, and his hair was a blond that bordered on white, short, straight, neat, much unlike her own long, dark, curly locks that seemed to have their own mind. (Today, however, her hair was behaving, pulled back into a ponytail that brushed just past her shoulders.) His clothing made him a perfect fit for the large house - dark, but neat and deliberate. Lydia cleared her throat. "I'm looking for someone named Edgar?" The tall man's face lit up. "Oh, you must be Lydia! Edgar would be me," he quickly added, seeing the look of shock on her face. He stepped out of the way. "Please, come in; it's cold, is it not?" The editor obliged, entering the home of the mysterious author in silence as her mind raced. You're Edgar? You're really him? For some reason, Lydia felt sobered now that she had a face to go with the name. Perhaps it was because his air of mystery was almost gone. Or, perhaps, she had some fantastical expectation that he would be the very manifestation of the dark character in his novel. "I, uh, finished your book. It was wonderful, flawless even...I had nothing to edit," she said, never quite meeting his eyes. "Anyway, I came to return your book." She slowly pulled the manuscript out of her bag. "It's suffered some battle damage, though." Edgar stared at the coffee-stained pages, then looked back at Lydia. She met his eyes, which were unreadable, and just as she braced herself for a curse against her descendants, the man bursted into laughter. "Oh, don't mind that! I assure you, there're copies to spare." Edgar sighed before speaking again, this time with a quieter voice. "And listen, Lydia, I was just on my way out, but I need to tell you something." "Okay...what is it?" "I'm not the author of that book." "What?!" "It's my sister's. She's the one you need to speak to." He started to open the door again. "Wait, why are you taking credit for your sister's work?" Edgar shook his head and turned the knob. "I'm sure she'll explain if you ask her; that's not for me to tell. She's here, just find her. Her name is Jeanne. I really have to go," he blurted out hurriedly. He soon disappeared on the other side of the door, leaving Lydia confused inside of the unfamiliar building. "What the fuck?!" ~ "Mistress Jeanne?" "Come in," called a feminine voice through the door. The butler opened the door for Lydia, allowing her to step into the room before closing the door behind her. Her eyes took in Jeanne's bedroom before they noticed the woman herself. The room seemed to have a natural purplish hue, and Lydia couldn't quite pinpoint where the lighting was coming from. Aside from the usual, there was a bookshelf - completely full - and a very neat desk with a single notebook and pen atop it. Behind the desk sat Jeanne, a woman bearing the same features as her brother. "Twins," Lydia whispered under her breath as she beheld the female version of the man she had just spoken with. She was the same, with a slightly angular face, longer hair, with bangs that fell over the right side of her face. She was wearing a black satin night robe. However, despite her pale appearance, she was much darker than her brother. It was something about her demeanor, it was in the way she posed, the mood of the room... "Who are you?" she inquired. Her voice came out like a whisper. "My name is Lydia. Edgar hired me to edit the new release." "Then your business is with him, is it not?" "But you wrote the book, didn't you?" Jeanne furrowed her brows, and her hand clenched around her pen. "He told you?" Lydia almost flinched at the sudden shift from polite to biting, but it seemed more like Jeanne was mad at Edgar than at her. She took a few more steps into the dimly lit room. "Yes...is there something wrong with that? I thought it was an amazing work of fiction, no, a work of art. Would you at least tell me why you're hiding like this?" Jeanne took a few moments to bite back her anger before sighing and standing. The two women looked at each other. Lydia finally noticed the height difference between them; sure, she wasn't as tall as Edgar, but she had more than a few inches on the editor. She was also slender where Lydia had more curves. Jeanne, however, looked at Lydia as a god deciding whether to accept or reject a sacrificial offering. As the early hints of a smile crept onto Jeanne's face, it seemed as her opinion was favorable. "Have you ever had a secret?" she asked. Her voice abandoned its whispery tone for one that felt more present. Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Yes, of course...I'm sure everyone has secrets." Jeanne nodded. "True. But, you see, I have a deep love for secrets. A secret-complex, of sorts. And that book...the truth about that book was a secret between my dear brother and I." The blond woman approached Lydia and looked down at her with hawk-like eyes. "But now that you know, it's not much of a secret anymore..." Lydia swallowed a lump in her throat. "That's true..." Jeanne's face shifted into a smirk that dripped with ulterior motive. "That means that you and I will have to create a secret of our own, Lydia dear." And it was in that moment, with those words, that Lydia began to realize that the 'Edgar' she had imagined, the dream that had kept her awake so many times, was standing right in front of her. ---- So, there it is~ Oh, and thanks for reading all this! This started off as a short story, but I figured it'd be fun to roleplay it out.