[cyberdragon725]

Username:
Name:
Gender:
Gender for breeding purposes:
Prompt: (excited/peaceful, 1500 words max, 250 min)
Extras: (2, 1 art or 400 words)

Mmmm possibly

[LimeThing]

Extended until 11/22, 12 am CET
Good luck!

[D-Send]

Username: D-Send
Name: Corvus
Gender: male
Gender for breeding purposes: male
Prompt: (excited/peaceful, 1500 words max, 250 min) wip with peaceful prompt
Extras: (2, 1 art or 400 words)

[LimeThing]

Extended for another week due to the lack of forms ^^
End date is now 11/29/2017

[Strudel]

Username: Strudel
Name: Frédéric
Gender: Male
Gender for breeding purposes: Male
Prompt: (peaceful)

A dark viscet sighs to himself-- contented-- as he settles on the unassuming bench at the edge of the park. He doesn't look out toward the children playing, nor toward the couples holding hands and whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. He ignores the young love, the old love, and the athletes practicing on the other side of the park be it basketball or tennis.

His eyes are turned toward the other side-- the sidewalk.

He pulls out a small pencil, used so much that it's barely a stub of a piece of wood gripped in his paw, and he sets the lead softly against the clipboard in his lap.

One would think that perhaps he was taking notes, or jotting down something for work, but this is something else entirely.
The viscet looks to the sheet for only a moment before his eyes train back to the sidewalk.

He listens to the rhythm of the man jogging, and the harshness of his breathing. He hears the woman speaking under her breath in short bursts of obvious annoyance as she shuffles by-- a rhythm that compliments that of the man's. He watches as a child chases after a small butterfly, and he hears the lad's mother call after him in annoyance-- the cadence of her voice becoming a melody in this silent observer's mind.

Before too long, the silent observer turns his eyes to the page, jotting down a sentence or two before he writes down a line of music. He looks at it for a moment, adjusting it with scribbles and scratches on the page, before looking again to the sidewalk. He continues to jot down line after line of music, not looking once again to the page as he focuses quietly on the sights and sounds around him.

It's not long before it's once again time to flip the page over and begin anew. He closes his eyes this time as he listens to the steady chatter and rhythm of the city. He breathes in the scent of the air, feels the tickle of the wind through his fur, and senses the warmth and love of those around him.

He is at peace-- even as his paws furiously work to put down to paper his thoughts, feelings, and observations.

When the sun begins to set, and the jaunty rhythm of the day begins to fade into the peaceful measure of the evening, he shifts and shuffles his papers around. He moves the pencil for a moment, hesitating, before beginning again on the same page. The melody he is penning is softer than those from before. It's strong, but peaceful. A tranquil piece that eventually fades into a more austere tone as the park grows silent and nothing sounds but the leaves.

Then Frédéric-- our solitary composer-- begins to tear up. He doesn't even truly understand why. Just as he's about to give up on the melancholy piece, he hears a woman passing by quietly whistling to herself. He smiles to no one in particular as he pens the last few lines of his sheet music, small tear drops marking the page as he works. The last few lines are quiet, happy, soothing. In other words, the piece is what he came to write.

Frédéric puts the papers away in his bag, and stands up. He knows that tomorrow he will pick apart the fruits of today's labor to polish up a truly beautiful piece, but today wasn't about that perfect piece. Today was about finding his perfect peace.

He puts the bag over his shoulder, and walks away from the park quietly.

'Who knows' he thinks to himself 'Perhaps I'll return here tomorrow as well to work. There is no better place.' and in his mind, there really was not. This place wasn't his home. It wasn't his life. But it was beautiful and it was his.

[650/1500]

Extras:

Extra one;

Frédéric has always been in love with music. Even when he was barely old enough to speak, his passion for song was evident in the pinkness of his chubby cheeks and the gleam in his eyes when his caretakers would play their phonograph. He would listen, enraptured for hours. He would close his eyes, and visualize the notes.

He was a true prodigy.

He couldn't explain it and neither could those that cared for him, but the moment his paws first brushed the gleaming ivories of a piano he seemed at home. Even before they hired a tutor for him, he was figuring how to play small pieces by ear. With such a talented child on their hands. how could they not encourage his musical growth?

Growth might have been an understatement. When given a proper teacher he simply out and out flourished. In a couple of years, there wasn't a teacher they could find that he couldn't out play.

"I'm just lucky." Frédéric would say "It just comes naturally. I'm not special."
And in some ways, that was true enough. He had this natural skill for playing. It was as if the sheet music was a part of his soul. But it wasn't just that. He was in love with the music, it was his whole life. He practiced and played until his fingers were sore and his eyes could barely hold themselves open. The music was his lifeblood.

It was everything to him.

He was ten when he started to compose music of true worth.

He was eleven when his caretakers sent him away to learn in a school for gifted young musicians.

He was fourteen when he graduated, and sixteen when he left the musical conservatory he had been admitted to due to creative differences. He was an artist first, and a collegiate second after all.

Frédéric discovered an unforgiving world for a young man with nothing but talent and music in his soul. The world had changed, and a classical composer or a concert pianist did not quite belong in it.

Still, Frédéric kept that spark and dream alive in his heart. Music didn't leave him, and it never would.

[364/400]

Extra two;

by Mint Chip

[LimeThing]

Closed ^^

[LimeThing]

Username: Strudel
Name: Frédéric
Gender: Male
Gender for breeding purposes: Male
Prompt: (peaceful)

A dark viscet sighs to himself-- contented-- as he settles on the unassuming bench at the edge of the park. He doesn't look out toward the children playing, nor toward the couples holding hands and whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. He ignores the young love, the old love, and the athletes practicing on the other side of the park be it basketball or tennis.

His eyes are turned toward the other side-- the sidewalk.

He pulls out a small pencil, used so much that it's barely a stub of a piece of wood gripped in his paw, and he sets the lead softly against the clipboard in his lap.

One would think that perhaps he was taking notes, or jotting down something for work, but this is something else entirely.
The viscet looks to the sheet for only a moment before his eyes train back to the sidewalk.

He listens to the rhythm of the man jogging, and the harshness of his breathing. He hears the woman speaking under her breath in short bursts of obvious annoyance as she shuffles by-- a rhythm that compliments that of the man's. He watches as a child chases after a small butterfly, and he hears the lad's mother call after him in annoyance-- the cadence of her voice becoming a melody in this silent observer's mind.

Before too long, the silent observer turns his eyes to the page, jotting down a sentence or two before he writes down a line of music. He looks at it for a moment, adjusting it with scribbles and scratches on the page, before looking again to the sidewalk. He continues to jot down line after line of music, not looking once again to the page as he focuses quietly on the sights and sounds around him.

It's not long before it's once again time to flip the page over and begin anew. He closes his eyes this time as he listens to the steady chatter and rhythm of the city. He breathes in the scent of the air, feels the tickle of the wind through his fur, and senses the warmth and love of those around him.

He is at peace-- even as his paws furiously work to put down to paper his thoughts, feelings, and observations.

When the sun begins to set, and the jaunty rhythm of the day begins to fade into the peaceful measure of the evening, he shifts and shuffles his papers around. He moves the pencil for a moment, hesitating, before beginning again on the same page. The melody he is penning is softer than those from before. It's strong, but peaceful. A tranquil piece that eventually fades into a more austere tone as the park grows silent and nothing sounds but the leaves.

Then Frédéric-- our solitary composer-- begins to tear up. He doesn't even truly understand why. Just as he's about to give up on the melancholy piece, he hears a woman passing by quietly whistling to herself. He smiles to no one in particular as he pens the last few lines of his sheet music, small tear drops marking the page as he works. The last few lines are quiet, happy, soothing. In other words, the piece is what he came to write.

Frédéric puts the papers away in his bag, and stands up. He knows that tomorrow he will pick apart the fruits of today's labor to polish up a truly beautiful piece, but today wasn't about that perfect piece. Today was about finding his perfect peace.

He puts the bag over his shoulder, and walks away from the park quietly.

'Who knows' he thinks to himself 'Perhaps I'll return here tomorrow as well to work. There is no better place.' and in his mind, there really was not. This place wasn't his home. It wasn't his life. But it was beautiful and it was his.

[650/1500]

Extras:

Extra one;

Frédéric has always been in love with music. Even when he was barely old enough to speak, his passion for song was evident in the pinkness of his chubby cheeks and the gleam in his eyes when his caretakers would play their phonograph. He would listen, enraptured for hours. He would close his eyes, and visualize the notes.

He was a true prodigy.

He couldn't explain it and neither could those that cared for him, but the moment his paws first brushed the gleaming ivories of a piano he seemed at home. Even before they hired a tutor for him, he was figuring how to play small pieces by ear. With such a talented child on their hands. how could they not encourage his musical growth?

Growth might have been an understatement. When given a proper teacher he simply out and out flourished. In a couple of years, there wasn't a teacher they could find that he couldn't out play.

"I'm just lucky." Frédéric would say "It just comes naturally. I'm not special."
And in some ways, that was true enough. He had this natural skill for playing. It was as if the sheet music was a part of his soul. But it wasn't just that. He was in love with the music, it was his whole life. He practiced and played until his fingers were sore and his eyes could barely hold themselves open. The music was his lifeblood.

It was everything to him.

He was ten when he started to compose music of true worth.

He was eleven when his caretakers sent him away to learn in a school for gifted young musicians.

He was fourteen when he graduated, and sixteen when he left the musical conservatory he had been admitted to due to creative differences. He was an artist first, and a collegiate second after all.

Frédéric discovered an unforgiving world for a young man with nothing but talent and music in his soul. The world had changed, and a classical composer or a concert pianist did not quite belong in it.

Still, Frédéric kept that spark and dream alive in his heart. Music didn't leave him, and it never would.

[364/400]

Extra two;

by Mint Chip

Congrats Strudel!
Your form was so great, I could feel the peace you were trying to achieve with the prompt as I was reading trough it, so good job!

[padaleckii]

Congrats Strudel <3

[Placebo]

Congrats Strudel! ;0c

[Strudel]

Thank you so much for your kind words Limuma!
And thanks for the congrats guys~
I'm really stoked to have won Frédéric!
Would you mind adding me to the ref when you have a moment?