Likes interesting storiesAlrighty then, after the last thread completed the annual cycle of birth and slow gurgling death, we (and by we I mean this thread's regulars) have decided once again to start fresh. Since it is tradition and only common courtesy to explain this for newcomers, this thread is a place for your burgeoning characters to interact with other people's creations in a relaxed setting. Yes I did emphasize that for a reason. We'll get to that. This time around we've decided to implement a few loose "rules". They are as thus:
(1) No superpowered showoffs. As evidenced by previous threads, we tend to let ourselves get carried away with characters like these, which inevitably results in "who's power is better" battle royales. Which brings us to the following... (2) NO POINTLESS FIGHTING. Remember that bolded and italicized "relaxed"? I meant it. There will be no fighting unless it is absolutely critical to character or plot. Any fights that do break out are to be resolved quickly and neatly unless, again, it is vitally important. (3) Try to keep the plot coherent. A complex plot is not necessarily bad, but other participants need to be able to keep up. So please, try to collaborate as much as possible on plot. (4) If an upcoming twist/action/whatever has not had objection raised to it and has not yet occurred after five posts, the next post should make it happen. By extension, each post should keep the story moving (unless it is an OOC comment). (5) Finally, only 1-2 characters a poster, three maximum. This helps with the above.These rules are not iron-clad. They can be bent and even broken. I feel that limiting a writer's options should be some sort of punishable crime, so these rules will not necessarily be enforced until someone starts abusing them. Now that that's out of the way, our setting. A white beach house nestled on a small peninsula. Placid blue water surrounds the luxurious home◊ from all sides. A salty sea breeze caresses the hair and the gulls cry in song, as if celebrating life itself.
Jumping was a strange thing, to be certain. Made even stranger in that it was completely inconspicuous. No crackling lightning or glowing vortexes involved. Xavier merely plopped into existence in the middle of a thick bush only feet from shore. He picked himself up, brushing the sand off of his thin white shirt, blocking the sunlight with his hand. No, the only thing conspicuous about their travels- "Xavier, over here! What took you so long?" Is her. Xavier sighed. He waited patiently for the approaching figure. It was rather hard to mistake her for anyone else. She wore a large Victorian-era dress whose color seemed to change whenever you weren't looking and was constantly waving around a large old-timey umbrella (not old enough to match her ridiculous dress mind you, but old enough). She topped it off with a small silk bonnet embroidered with flower patterning (or was it birds?), which was a shame, because as much as Xavier hated giving her compliments, her long white hair really was quite pretty. Yes, Kalafina stuck out like a sore thumb wherever they went. "Would you mind changing into something else for once? You look ridiculous." Xavier called to her. "Well maybe you just look too ordinary. You ever think of it like that?" He sighed. Angry, or glad, happy or sad, she was always like this. Deciding to ignore it, he stuck his thumb out to the stark white beach house. "We should check it out. Maybe they have some supplies they'd be willing to trade for." She nodded in agreement. The walk to the house was short, offering little time to take in the remarkable view. Xavier drank in the scenery, every last detail. It was stunning. It reminded him of a trip he'd taken as a child- Right. He shook the thought out of his head, but it clung on hard. So he turned to his companion to shake it off. Kalafina walked in a sort of regal way befitting her dress. No matter what the situation, she never seemed to lose that air of calm. It was something about her that both infuriated him and yet invoked a sense of admiration. There were a lot of things about her like that. "It doesn't look like anyone's home." Now that Xavier took a better look, he saw it too. The lights were all out and the doors all shut. Unusual for a beach house, especially in the middle of summer. Or at least he thought it to be, judging by the heat and cloying humidity. The door was plain, minimalist. Xavier twisted the knob, jiggling it, but the lock remained steadfast. No good. He motioned to her, and they braced themselves against the door. "On three. One, tow-" "THREE!" They slammed into the door. It shook but did not falter. "And again!" Their efforts were finally rewarded with that brilliant cracking sound as the door gave way and they half-ran half-stumbled into the house.
edited 15th Mar '11 3:55:42 PM by KSPAM
Writer's Welcome WagonFIRST!
Justin paid the taxi man a little more money than needed and got out of the taxi. He waved at it as it drove away. He then looked up at...something. "Hey, Landras, " he thought, Can you dig the invitation out of my backpack?"' "Sure, " she responded back. She used a hand to unzipped the largest pocket in Justin's blue backpack, and took out a piece of paper, a spoon, and a few cup of yogurt. She handed the invitation to him, and then started gorging into one of the cups by stabbing through the foil wrapper and digging up strawberry goodness. "Yummy! I'm starving!" "Just help me find the house, " Justin said bored and blankely, as he turned his head. The beach was very long.
edited 15th Mar '11 4:13:54 PM by chihuahua0
"Ra-ra?" The front door crashing in interrupts Quon mid-stroke of painting the garish imagery of her inner soul. The violet paint drips down the canvas from her brush's paused bristles, and she lays it down, her eyes perked, curious as to who or what might break through her home's lock. The afternoon sun rays shine through the clear windows, blooming the activities room with such light, and the ocean's glittering is especially apparent along the sandy beach the tidal waves graze timely. She has aged gracefully; hints of grey show in her locks of hair, and she wears her thinly dandelion dress, the laces drooping as she strides to the frontal entrance. There she spots, a man and a woman, scratching their heads with disorientation — the front door hanging half-ajar. She takes a step closer, gazing at their clothes and their hair. Quon isn't apprehensive as most homeowners would react upon their sanctity's violation. She merely says, "Hello. Have you come for a cup of tea?"
edited 15th Mar '11 4:11:44 PM by QQQQQ
Writer's Welcome WagonOOC: I'm a newcomer. Was my first post good enough? Any suggestions? Should I presume that this is a Genre Buster thread and Justin should get used to robots from outer-space? Does Landras count as a second character? Should I have a Gekai Girl or a Robot Maid as my third character? Am I making too many grammar errors, because my teacher and parents think my writing grammar is fine, but from what I see from my own writing... Was that the right way to post that?
Justin looked down on the sand-covered pavement as he walked towards the house. He could already feel the sand dirting his sandals. "I hope there is air-conditioning, " he thought. The heat was sweltering.
edited 15th Mar '11 4:23:11 PM by chihuahua0
(OOC: Hello there Mr Chihuahua — it seems you have joined in the Character threads for your first time. I think your first post is good, if a little lacking. What I would suggest is for you to introduce your characters by description as you go along [don't infodump it, but reveal things like how your character looks, or his thoughts]. Also, I would suggest to try and advance the overall story somehow with each post. Put more than a few bare-bone sentences. See my post above for example.)
Writer's Welcome WagonOOC: Thank you. Now, I'll get him to the door. Oh, and should I use the In-Story version of him (he considers his universe This Is Reality) or the Crossover version (he knows he's a character in a story, and know about the Author and other characters created by the Author)? Oh, and I don't know if my characters might be too over-powered. Justin as a Death Note, and Landras is a Shinigami. However, Justin only uses the Death Note on criminals (and the parameters placed my the Author keeps him from having any Character Development outside his story) and Landras pretty much...observes and muses how interesting things are.
Landras consumed the last cup of yogurt she pulled out of Justin's backpack, shoving the cup itself down her throat. She looked down at Justin, who just arrived at the front door. He was sixteen years old, had brown hair, was shorter than average and had a lanky frame. He wore a blue t-shirt, short jeans, and a black necklace with a single black pearl. If she didn't know him, she would dismiss him as a timid, harmless boy. Quite the opposite. Well, the latter was. "It's open, " Justin thought, turning her head towards her, "Should I go in?" "Of course, " Landras said, reaching for his backpack to pull out some more. "Don't, " Justin thought, stepping forwards, "I don't want anyone finding out about you." "All right, " Landras said, "But I'm heading towards the frige." Justin pushed the door all the way open. EDIT: My writing is too plain compare to yours. I'm not using my character's five senses enough. Got to add more detail.
edited 15th Mar '11 4:39:29 PM by chihuahua0
(OOC: I would recommend the first version. And the purpose of this exercise is to practice writing, of course.) (Note: any italicized dialogue indicates that it was spoken in ASL, since this woman's daughter is deaf.) What a wonderful day to have an outing, Lien thought as she and Hope walked to the beach together. Hope, a young girl of about ten still looked rather timid and shy as she walked alongside Lien, not making eye contact and staying an arm's length away. Lien looked graceful as always as she strode towards the beach, her long blue-black hair blowing in the wind underneath her summer hat. Her thin, petite frame was clothed in a simple white summer dress that matched the one her young daughter wore. As they stepped down onto the sand, the quiet little girl laid eyes on their destination, a paradise that she never would have been able to see with her old parents. A warm breeze sweeping through her short red hair, she stopped to gaze in quiet awe at the blue seawater rolling lazily in and out on the sand as Lien kept walking down the beach. Hope followed when she noticed Lien motion for her to come over. The little girl signed to Lien. ...What is that? She pointed at the ocean. A ten-year-old asking such a basic question would've been bewildering to anybody else, but Lien just smiled. Oh, that over there? That's the ocean, dear.
edited 15th Mar '11 4:51:34 PM by CrystalGlacia
Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame.
The newcomer and his ghostly companion Quon notices, and she is intrigued as to why these people show up at her steps all of a sudden. It is a question she will find the answer to now, for she does not find familiarity with these faces, nor has she remembered making invitations to her home in recent times. She asks, "I wonder, sirrahs, why have you come here?"
An accurate depiction(OOC: Experimentation with new narrative style, commence.) Caen had a distressing tendency to fall asleep in any place where the ground was not a) sharp, b)on fire, and/or c) being shelled; call it soldiers' conditioning: if you fall asleep now, you have some saved up for when your sergeant is ordering you about at 1 am, while clods of earth and peoples' meat are bouncing off your skull. If some grunt is really thick or really lucky, it might be shrapnel as well, he could attest to that. On the other hand, the induced narcolepsy made his transition into monkhood rather easy, as an actual bed was superior to his usual sleeping-hole. Hell, the abbot practically hugged him when he heard Caen was a veteran; they needed someone to haul sacks of potatoes throughout the abbey. He'd become something of an oddity back at home, a 'Shatel', the class of monks who had returned from the battlefield and were... well, monks, they were always treated with a hushed respect. Here were men, the civilians seemed to say, who could exhibit ultimate duality- those nice gentlemen who sell vegetables and fruit every Saturday killed more people than your entire social circle doubled. You couldn't say either of them from looking at the man. He was perhaps sixty, still retaining traces of a military physique. A floral-print shirt that was a blasphemy in any religion adorned him, hanging half-open; barefoot, he looked like a drunk who had found himself in a strange and alien country, recollection coming back to him. The only abnormal thing about him was the gait: a confident, almost careless stride that nevertheless gave him enough time to examine everything around him at a pace that rivaled a machine's. House. Whitewashed, possibly expensive- but the door is broken, must be abandoned- good place to shack up for now, shake off and pray before going on. And food, hopefully, can't forget about food. As they say, a man can hang between life and death offa vegetables, but I need a hunk of burnt cow to live! Shaking sand out of the gray hair that fell to the back of his neck in unruly spikes, he walked to the door, his walking stick breaking up the pattern of his footsteps with a consistent clinking. He peers in past the broken door. Oh. People. Come on, God. I go on a pilgrimage to be alone, I head to the desolate corner of the globe, and you toss an entire party at me. Just because I like mindgames doesn't give you a prerogative to use them on me... Wait, theology says you do. Damn it all. "Well hello, " he calls out. Ragtag bunch, these folk are, but he isn't precisely the paragon of decorum either; and at least the people here seem conservative and not too fond of arcane rituals and other things that ruin a religious man's day. "If the owner of the house would be willing to shelter a mendicant monk, I'd be most grateful." He shakes his head, sending a flurry of sand over the floor. "Ah, god damn it to hell. Pardon me for the language and the mess."
edited 15th Mar '11 5:06:58 PM by Morgulion
This is this.
Writer's Welcome WagonLOL at the "on fire" list.
Justin opened the door and looked saw a woman in front of him. She looked between her 40s and 60s, but still beautiful disregarding her age. "S-sorry if this is the wrong address, " Justin said as he held up the invitation, "But w- I got this in the mail inviting me to this house, and the door was open..." he let it trailed off. He heard Landras cackling. And he noticed that more people were in the room.
OOC: Another note: Landras is invisable to anyone who didn't touch the Death Note that Justin currently have hidden in a secret pocket somewhere on his person. So if your character gives indication that he/she sees Landras, well...
edited 15th Mar '11 5:06:49 PM by chihuahua0
An accurate depiction(OOC: It's preferable to keep OOC remarks to a minimum so as to maintain a smoother flow. Just a note for the future.)
edited 15th Mar '11 5:07:42 PM by Morgulion
This is this.
Lien could see the commotion in the beach house, but she passed it on by for now. Lien saw an imminent problem with joining them, as Hope disliked being around too many people at once, especially men. They came here to relax and have a girls' day out away from Akura at a new place. "I don't want to go in there, " she said. "I understand that. We're not going to right now." Keeping with Hope's wishes, Lien let her explore the beach. She studied the small shells and pieces of driftwood that were washed up on the shore, picking them up and showing them to Lien.
edited 15th Mar '11 5:24:54 PM by CrystalGlacia
Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame.
She blinks. To the self-proclaimed monk, she says, "Help yourself." with some hesitation brimming over the bizarre arrival of many all the sudden. Then to the man holding up his invitation, she takes his hand in hers for one moment, and then unfurls the mail. She glances at it. She says, "I have not recently sent out invitations to my home. I do not know who has sent you this mail, and I do not feel you know also— if more people are to come, then I will need to make the arrangements for my guests. Might you help me pack away my clatter? A pair of hands can only do so much at a time.."
Likes interesting stories"Uhhhhh... hi." The silence in the room was breathtaking. Xavier was pretty sure this was the most nothing he'd ever heard in one place. A curious habit of people: they maintain dignity and poise during life's trivialities but when anything important arises, they trip and stumble and stutter. Xavier was absolutely no exception. "Well, ummm, you see this isn't what it looks like. We were just passing along... and wanted to oh god what was it? We wanted to, uhh, yeah! Trade with you! Trade! For food and other things... hehehehehhhhh... You're not buying any of this, are you?" Smooth as hell. He punched himself mentally. He sounded like a fifteen year old on his first date. Kalafina, thankfully was much more composed. "My deepest apologies for the breaking and entering. We had no idea anyone was home and we've gotten rather desperate. As my companion here just said, or tried to say, we've come looking for supplies. A bed to rest in too, if you're feeling generous. We've been on the road for quite a while and we're at our wits end." She flashed him a playful smirk. Like she was saying, Better luck next time. Xavier groaned a little. Yep. She was always like this. Layers upon layers of character.
edited 15th Mar '11 5:44:30 PM by KSPAM
Writer's Welcome Wagon"...Okay, " Justin said, wondering what was a clatter. He looked at the self-proclaimed monk, who looked...strange. And the couple, espaically the man...were also strange. There was no other word for it. "Something feels wrong here, "' he thought as he looked around the room. It looked surprisely modern, with white walls, and crisp white funishure. It looked cozy, "Why was I invited here? I hope it isn't a trap..."
Meanwhile, Landras was in the kitchen. "Oh, here's a fridge!" she thought. The Shinigami then opened the door and searched for some yogurt, perferbly apple yogurt, since the last store Justin went to didn't have any. She liked apples.
Above the Earth, out of sight, there was a small meteor. It would land that night near the house.
OOC: I'll try to keep OOC to a mim, but I like to use this. The meteor is just a small plot hook that you can use once things get rolling. You may use it any way you want, or just let it miss and go into the ocean.
edited 15th Mar '11 5:45:35 PM by chihuahua0
Hello again((OOC: how much continuity is there going to be between this and the other Character threads?
edited 15th Mar '11 6:14:15 PM by Luthen
Easily entertainedTwo women approached the house, in the midst of a conversation. The first was a pretty, lightly tanned woman with curly black hair and brown eyes, wearing a professional-looking outfit: a brown jacket, a tan blouse, and a knee-length skirt. The second was a stunning, athletic woman, taller than most men, with skin so dark it was nearly pitch-black and waist-length dark violet hair. She wore a dark blue one-piece swimsuit, with a plunging neckline and low back that made it more scandalous than most bikinis. In a thick, lilting accent that drew out the vowels, she said to her companion, "I heard Sigmund's goons managed to screw up somewhere in the Yucatan, just a portal hop, and I'm wondering..." "No, Asau. I do not need you dragging me into more trouble, " her companion replied bluntly. "Oh, come on! It could be fun! Maybe we could look..." "No." "What's a vacation without a little adventure? A little fun? A little..." "Ouan." A word from Asau's native language, Uelane. It translated into "no." "Come on, Rachel! Have you no sense of fun? Just a little detour..." Rachel gave a terse reply that left Asau mystified. Asau said, "I don't know that word..." "It's Farsi. Have a guess what it translates into." Her eyes hopeful, Asau said, "yes?" "No." They entered, and Asau's eyes were immediately drawn to Kalafina. She ran over to her, offered her hand, and said in Uelane "oh, by Sul'ah, what a vision!" Then in English, "who might you be?" Rachel sighed. At least Asau would forget her planned jungle expedition now. Rachel said, "excuse my friend; if she gets too over-friendly, just slap her with a broom or something." Asau glared at Rachel, but Rachel ignored her and continued, "I'm Rachel Hosseini, and my friend there is Asau ul'Valmoth. Don't ask where she comes from." Rachel then went over to Asau and whispered to her in Uelane. "I don't think you're her type, Asau." "Only one way to find out, isn't there?" Rachel rolled her eyes. She took a cup of tea, hoping Kalafina was at least a patient woman, and said, "Ms. Quon, I hope? If so, I pray our letter arrived before we did. Asau was hoping you'd do a portrait of her, and is willing to pay — will you accept electrum * coins emblazoned with skulls?" She handed Quon a heavy coin pouch, filled with coins. They were indeed electrum, emblazoned with leering skulls on one side, and a large, ominous-looking structure on the other.
edited 15th Mar '11 6:59:48 PM by KillerClowns
Hope froze, staring at the strange man wide-eyed with shells in her hands. Lien recognized it as Italian after hearing an acquaintance of hers, but she had no idea what he was saying. Nevertheless, she bowed back to him. "I'm afraid I can't speak Italian. I'm sorry."
edited 15th Mar '11 6:27:07 PM by CrystalGlacia
Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame.
Hello again"Nessun problema. Un solo istante." * Marc hummed a short murmuring tune, which sent a shiver down his throat and made his ears tingle. Satisfied the air spirit was content to translate for him, and wouldn't run off, Marc spoke again. A lip-reader would still think he was speaking Italian, but to any listener it sounded like English *. Though sometimes out of sync with his lips. "Better now? My name is Marcato of Florona. I'm a little lost, do you know where we are?"
edited 15th Mar '11 7:20:17 PM by Luthen
(OOC: I will have to be working on my studying right now, so I must leave the thread (for a while, I hope.) Since Quon seems to be the homeowner of this lovely beach house, I would like it if someone can lead her way. She is a gentle maiden around her late 40's, with an air of mysticism in her.)
Writer's Welcome WagonMeanwhile, while Justin was trying to figure out what was a clatter (what is a clatter?) Landras was in the kitchen, happily eating some apple yogurt. In her arms was a decent pile, about six cartons of applely goodness. It was like the fridge had read her mind, which was almost impossible, of course. '"Yummy, "'' She made squeaking noises that put the whole race of Shinigami to shame, and belied her macabre and ghastly appearence. If someone happened to touch Justin's Death Note, and walk in on her, they would have the scare of their lives. "Yum-huh?" Landras turned her head slowely, and saw something on the end counter of marble. It was a large square cardboard box about three feet tall, wide, and deep. It was taped shut, and there was no label. "That wasn't there when I entered the room, " Landras thought as she shoved the empty yogurt carton down her mouth. She laid her cache on the counter next to the fridge, and floated towards the box. Curiousely, she fingered it. Whatever was inside it was extremely heavy. With her long fingernails, she carefully scrapped the tape in half.
Likes interesting storiesKalafina stopped time. Not literally of course. Merely mentally. Such a skill was of great use to a traveller, it allowed one to fully enjoy the little things and calmly assess the big ones. The big problem, or in this case, question of the day was this woman. Asau... something or other, who was currently edging into the "little close for comfort" territory. Whoever she was, it was obvious she preferred to be very straightforward in her interactions with others. Kalafina was unaccustomed to people like this. Most had some insecurities involving social interaction, some personal rules or awkward quirks. It was a natural human thing, and it was, in her humble opinion, one of the most fun things about them. It made them easy to befriend and also easy to tease and manipulate, a favorite game of hers. There was none of that here. Her blunt nature made her seem friendly, but it also made her hard to read. The friendliness could merely be formality, or perhaps deception. She was possessed of very little restraint or self-esteem issues, and it showed. She was boisterous, unafraid and worst of all, unshakeably confident. Desirable qualities yes, but only becausw they were a hallmark of powerful individuals. The best thing to do, Kalafina reasoned, was to treat her with the same amiable nature. For now. She couldn't afford to make enemies here. "Hey there! I don't believe we've met before. I'm Kalafina and this stick in the mud, " she pointed to Xavier, "is Xavier. It's a pleasure."
edited 15th Mar '11 6:58:56 PM by KSPAM
(OOC: If I recall correctly, we agreed on the French Riviera back in Character Outpost. If that's not right, I'll edit. I'm also turning in for the night. Got a graduation exam tomorrow morning. Night.) Lien blinked, looking a little surprised upon seeing Marc speak. "Oh...! You're in France right now. Did you, perhaps, find yourself here by accident?" Hope, since she couldn't hear him in the first place, still looked a little afraid and confused.
edited 15th Mar '11 7:26:03 PM by CrystalGlacia
Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame.
Easily entertainedIn Uelane, Asau said, "Blessings of the Lady of Blades upon you." Then in English she added, "I must ask, however: your hair. It is an unusual color for one so young as yourself. Is it natural? And..." a sharp jab in the back from Rachel cut off Asau's next question. Asau again glared at Rachel. "Anyways. Your hair is rather pretty... why ever do you keep it covered like that? It seems a shame to hide beautiful things from the world." Asau's eyes were not, however, on Kalafina's bonnet, but her dress; the implications were clear enough to make Rachel blush. Rachel muttered a long string of curses in Arabic. Why did Asau have to be so damned... blatant? It had nearly gotten them killed in Mecca. Asau had thus far saved Rachel's life more often than risked it, at least, and thankfully Rachel herself was spared Asau's attentions. Asau said Rachel reminded her of a younger sister — even though Rachel was nine years Asau's senior. Still, Kalafina's friend was... well, he seemed pleasant enough. Not unattractive, either. He might look good in a speedo... shaking the thought from her mind, Rachel offered Xavier her hand and said, "pleasure to meet you, Xavier. So, what brings you here? And how do you and Kalafina know each other?" They couldn't have been more different; Xavier was sensibly dressed, and Kalafina had that curious dress — Rachel would have to ask about that, if Asau didn't scare her off — and that impressive parasol. Then again, were they any stranger a pair than a mild mannered Iranian-American actuary and a shamelessly forthright Uelane priestess? She supposed not.
edited 15th Mar '11 7:38:03 PM by KillerClowns
Hello again"France? Gallia? Well that's closer to home than I was, " this was said mostly to himself, and Marc paused before registering the lady had asked a question, "Accident? Sort of, I was on the road to La Serenissima and my teacher showed me a short-cut. I did it wrong though and ended up in... London? I think that's what the place was called. At least it's not snowing here."
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