[Ethulai]

xxxxxxuser: Ethulai • kalon: Phaedryx
x

xxxpersonality:
xxxPhaedryx, in a crowd, radiates hostility. He unintentionally draws
xxxattention to himself this way and comes off as irritable, pessimistic,
xxxjudgemental. To those acquainted with him, he delivers a tongue that
xxxcuts deeper than a barbed lash, not helped by a quicksilver mind and
xxxa keen-edged wit. Few break this barrier. Those who have find an
xxxexceptionally cold and manipulative individual, a genuine narcissist.
xxxThey also find another door, light shining beneath, and they wonder,
xxxbefore they're driven away, what lies behind it. [83/100]

their 'escape': Phaedryx sighed with relief as he closed his apartment door behind him, finally able to relax after yet another frustrating and unfulfilling work day. He bared his teeth as he walked towards his shower, needing to rid himself of the stink of daily interaction before even contemplating doing anything else. For the thousandth time he wondered whether he actually suffered from antisocial personality disorder or simply had zero tolerance for others and was worn down by the behaviour of those around him. "You're no psychiatrist," he muttered to himself as he entered the bathroom. "If you want an honest answer you'll have to actually go ahead and find a professional".

Thank whatever deities that bothered to look after this existence that he actually could afford a nice place in this cacophony of a city, Phaedryx thought to himself later as he gazed out of the window of his studio apartment. He made himself some instant mi goreng, not bothered enough to take the time to prepare a healthier, more nutritious meal. This only proved how downtrodden he currently was, since normally he would live by the mantra 'my body is a temple' and refuse to consume anything that contained food additives. As dusk approached, Phaedryx allowed himself to appreciate the beauty of the Wasatch Mountains - as much as he hated working in Salt Lake City, the panoramic backyard view soothed his tumultuous soul.

It was time. Phaedryx felt his heart lift as the sun set over the mountains. Let the others live for the daylight hours, let them sweat and pant under the sun's harsh rays, let them continue in their meagre, common, pointless existence. He lived for the night. Phaedryx walked towards his bedroom, and closed the door behind him firmly after crossing the threshold. Before he settled on the bed to begin his nightly meditation, Phaedryx took the time to look around himself and admire his haven. Everything inside this room was white. Crisp white, snow white, pure white. Who needed colors on this plane when they would come with such brilliance and saturation and glorious ferocity after he fell into slumber?

Phaedryx settled on the bed and consciously relaxed all of his muscles and breathed deeply - in through the nose, out through the mouth. He visualised expelling all the negative energy and nonsense and noise from throughout his day; thick, syrupy dark grey clouds of smoke escaping out of his throat and under the door. The longer he breathed the less constricted his chest felt and then, finally, his body felt weightless and his turbulent mind stilled. Then, with what felt like both an instant and paradoxically the longest moment in time, he was finally asleep.

Next to his slumbering body, Phaedryx's dream self stretched luxuriously and yelled towards the heavens with delight. It was time to start another adventure. In the past few months he had shifted himself from sea to sea and wandered around the ocean floors, from the shallowest rock pool to the Challenger Deep in the Mariana Trench. He had made himself shrink to a tiny speck and ridden a tardigrade. He had watched a seahorse pair perform their courtship dance and then returned a few weeks later to witness the father giving birth. He had sung with a blue whale - his hair standing on end as he attempted to mimic the haunting chorus. He had curiously observed - both equally fascinated and repelled - the strange deep sea creatures; the siphonophores, the polychaete worms, the vampire squid. It was time for a change.

Phaedryx's dream-self rose through the room, the apartment, up into the sky. He willed himself to go faster, an infectious grin appearing on his face. He tore through the troposphere, the stratosphere, the mesosphere. Faster. Thermosphere, Ionosphere and then finally the Exosphere where he stopped and floated in the vastness of space, gazing down at the Earth in wonder. He spun his arms around his body and conjured up a cloak of stars to keep himself warm - cloth made of a minuscule twinkling galaxy. He spent hours there, comfortable in his isolation. Interstellar travel would be his next project, he decided, but first he wanted to taste the moon. [698/700]

See the moon
Remove the seal
Reel to flank
Twice erased
I don't scent forever
You seem aware
But dream awake
The sweetness gone
I counteract

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hear the past
Convince yourself
The world should end
Release these wings
Off of Death's back
Shut your mouth
Let the eyes speak
Bitterness rises
I counteract

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Taste the sky
Realise the truth
Seize a moment
Shred it thin
Force time
For another
Bleed a different colour
When you're alone
I counteract [78/100]

Coding: Aey • Art: high noon • Image: Jessica Andersdotter • Fonts: flamingtext.com

[happysparrow]

happysparrow - Blake - Male - Parkour Master and Suave Professional

"Who is this elegant creature, what is he like?"
There are many, many words to describe Blake. Many choose one in the vein of "goofball" or "fool", while others choose such classics as "confusing" and "sort of freaking me out but I don't know what to do about it." In short, Blake is a goofball who tries very hard to seem cool and suave. His charm and elegance is entirely faked, and his frequent acts of stupidity often give that away. Despite this and his petty acts of theft, Blake has a heart of gold. (86/100)

"How does he escape, from reality and the darkness surrounding him?"
Blake gave a dramatic cough, sitting down and flipping his long hair out of his face before gazing gently and longingly at the sun. This act lasted only a few minutes before the sun began to burn, and Blake began to sneeze. Pulling himself together, he tried to regain his posture and suave demeanor, "My escape? From the horrifying grip of this world? Well, that's easy. It's parkour," he sniffled, holding back a fake sob, "Parkour is what gets me through this life. It carries me from ground to wall, both physically and metaphorically. It carries me on wings like a dove. It is beautiful, and the only thing that allows me to get away from the confines of this," here, Blake clenched his paw into a fist, shutting his eyes tightly before ending his shoujo anime speech, "Cruel, heartless world!"

While much of his explanation consists of fluff and anime stereotypes, parkour truly is an escape for Blake. It distracts him from looming responsibilities and consequences, allowing his mind to wander and quit worrying. Not only is it a good mental escape, but it's also a rather useful skill to escape his petty crimes and conversations he does not want to be in. That is, whenever Blake finds himself in a pickle or in an uncomfortable situation, he merely dabs, yells "parkour!", and gently rolls away or jumps the nearest wall. It causes enough confusion for his opponent to merely blink and slowly move along. Granted, his habit of stealing small items here and there to try to be cool usually ends up with the cops easily catching up to him and taking him to the station. Blake has his very own file, and most store owners know to watch him whenever he comes in.

So, both physically and emotionally, parkour is Blake's best escape method.

[cocogerber13]

username:
kalon name:
personality: (100 word max)
their 'escape': (300 word min, 700 word max)

[Unleashed Squiid]

Ohmy

[trans]

ＩＮ ＣＯＬＯＲＳ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＳＮＯＷＹ ＬＩＮＥＮ ＬＡＮＤ

i. username: trans
ii. name: meryl 'lazuli' dawson
iii. gender: female

iv. personality: ↴
meryl is very deceptive and cunning, despite her unassuming appearance, and is much more intelligent than her looks may let on. however, this doesnt make her cold-hearted. she's actually very empathetic and compassionate, and cares about others greatly. she doesnt take anything for granted if she can help it, and often uses what extra money she manages to scrape by with from her jobs to give to the orphanage down the street. meryl believes in seeing the good in all people, and only the most serious of crimes, the most horrendous, despicable people, are enough to earn her ire.

v. their 'escape': ↴
the room goes quiet. you take a deep breath, steady your shaking hands, then begin to play.

the strings run smooth under your fingertips, flawless. the movement is effortless, your hands gliding over each one easily, and you close your eyes as you relax, shoulders leaning back, simply... listening. the weight of the world, of having to go home and shower and go to bed and get up in the morning and repeat the whole thing all over again, the stress of having to worry about making sure not to do what you love in public or risk consequence, the freedom of just being here, being yourself... it was a relief.

here, you are free. here, you feel alive. here, you can be yourself. here... here is where you truly belong.

the melody flows through the room softly, carries with it hope and sadness in equal measure, and you begin, tentatively, to sing along. quiet little hums, small sentences here and there, before you build confidence, and others turn to watch. the room is dark, but the small illuminated spot on the stage is bright enough to rival the sun, it almost feels. it bathes you in warmth, a comforting embrace as you play, fingers strumming the harp's delicate strings to produce a soothing tune, a peaceful melody.

as a child, you loved to sing. you sang as often as you could, learning from others, taking lessons, and in your spare time, dedicating every second available to practicing and honing your voice. it didnt matter what you were doing; you sang while she cleaned, cooked, did your homework, gardened. you sang until you grew hoarse, and your family wondered, "how is she still singing?" you werent good at much, but this one thing, just this one thing, you really felt like you were good at it, or at least, you could be. you eventually expanded to instruments, and mastered them with ease. you took a liking to the harp and triangle, both elegant instruments in their own rights, and you loved the thrill of being able to play them whenever you wanted, your fingers making the movements regardless of what you were doing. when singing, dancing, and even music became outlawed, you hadnt stopped, you just learned to be more secretive about it. learned not to do these things in public. learned about the underground speakeasies and the backdoor clubs made purely for singing and dancing. many people knew about these places, but not as many knew where to look. they were hard to find unless you had connections, or you knew about the right places to look for them.

at first, it had just been to quench your need for music. you didnt do it everyday, maybe once a week, sometimes even a few weeks, or a month, but as time went on, you became addicted. you couldnt stop. real life paled in comparison to the night life you came to rely on, to crave like nothing else, to dream about every waking moment that wasnt spent being there. by day, you stifled the urge, but at night, you ventured out, an unassuming person to most, and you came home.

the underground was your home, really, now that you thought about it. you used it to escape from people, from your life, from the dull, dreary reality of the world around you. when you felt like collapsing to your knees, shaking from head to toe, stomach growling and fingers itching to do something, you retreated from the confines of real life and went to the underground. there, you were appreciated. there, you were loved. there, you were known. you played your songs, and people applauded and complimented you in earnest. your self-esteem was still depressingly pitiful, but at least you had people, even if strangers, complimenting your music, your singing, the way you weaved rhythm and dance and song into everything you did.

the underground is your escape. music is your escape. your instruments and voice are your escape. this whole place is your escape. you've built yourself a kingdom of music, and you never want to leave. here, you arent meryl; here... they simply know you as lazuli.

vi. extras: ↴
late night blues

"oh darling,
take my hand
oh darling,
please understand
that my love for you,
it's only for you
oh yes that's true,
believe me when i say i do
only
love
you.

i do love you, meryl dawson"

ＡＮＤ ＮＯＷ Ｉ ＵＮＤＥＲＳＴＡＮＤ ＷＨＡＴ ＹＯＵ ＴＲＩＥＤ ＴＯ ＳＡＹ ＴＯ ＭＥ

[néktar]

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
⚘ username. néktar ........ name. vincent vartoughi ─ to conquer, rose ........ gender. male ( ♂ )
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

─ personality. [169/100 ]

vincent is defined as a quiet soul, since his birth he has never been one to speak out of turn. loyal and trust worth
y as he was raised to be. he has a soft side to him as well that can feel compassion and regret though he has an ir
on will and can hold back his emotions when ever necessary. he's sly and intelligent in the manner that he has a n
ack for easily solving problems or creating them in favor of getting what he wants or what he needs. vincent is ea
sy to speak with and will give insight to a situation if asked to do so, he will never opening share his opinion due t
o the way he was raised. he is sort of stiff in the manner that he doesn't understand the simple pleasures of life a
nd needs time to adjust and assess a situation or a place he is in before he can begin to settle into the mindset.

─ anywhere is better then here. [ 747/700 ]

vincent had been born into this environment, this life style. he had never known anything more or anything less.
raised into the expectation of serving others. not giving opinion, or fuss, or letting cross words slip from his lips d
espite how much he wished to do so. from a young age he was taught to only obey, obey his mother and father th
ough, above all else, the masters of the house in which he was to spend the rest of his life. vincent was born to se
rvants, butlers, people who's family line serve one rich blood line for the entirety that that blood line is alive and
flowing. he had no say such as his father and mother had no say when they were born, it was not his choice, he ha
d a set fate and locked in destiny and he accepted that when he was younger as he did not know any better. as he
grew older, a storm began to brew inside of his mind and his soul. he started to question why he should have to sp
end his life in a bottle that is slowly being filled with water to drown him eventually. though vincent never let his
thoughts pass his lips he simply sat with them in silence and watched his parents grow old around him until they w
ere deemed 'useless' by the masters of the house and sent away. that was vincent's last straw, he would not let th
e water pass his ankles.
───────────── ⚘

vincent was nineteen at the time he finally decided he would not end up like his poor parents, trapped inside this
glass house. though it would take him time to figure out how to get out of this miserable destiny, he went on sch
eming in the middle of the night and being the obedient servant boy by day, they suspected nothing of him, they
thought him to be perfect and went out of their way to actually keep him happy. though vincent knew it was simp
ly because the master's daughter, which was the same age as he, requested it. she was fond of him, too fond thou
gh her parents were blind to this affection she had for him, the feelings were not mutual. vincent knew she was a
spoiled brat that mistreated his parents. once his mother had spilled a bit of tea on her shoe and she slapped her,
she thought he did not see but vincent saw all that went on in that house yet held his tongue expertly. he knew t
he master had a mistressthat visited when his wife and daughter were away, he had served them wine many time
s but kept his lips sealed. though he did leave clues to disrupt the family here and there, though he did not make
it known that it was him, it was a quiescence that the mistress had left her earrings there on the mantle or that t
here was a delicate red lip stain on the collar of a left out shirt. vincent had been causing this tension in the fami
ly so they would draw their attention away from their 'perfect' butler.
───────────── ⚘

on a cold night at the beginning of winter there were crashes and bangs, yelling and screaming echoing through o
ut the large but rather empty mansion. vincent, instead of rushing to put on his suit and assist the clean up or pe
rhaps see what was the matter, instead finished packing up what little items he had. he strolled onto the balcony
that faced the forest, the view was gorgeous and the night breeze blew with freedom. he climbed up onto the m
arble railing and sat there for a moment, he hesitated, though he was not sure why, then he heard the click of his
door opening. he twisted his head around to see the young girlpeeking into his room, as she saw him on the balco
ny she opened her mouth to yell. vincent quickly put his gloved finger to his own lips and she shut her mouth to hi
s surprise. he said nothing more though and jumped down into the bushes bellow. he was running into the dense f
orest in a matter of second. and for the first time in his life, under the pale light of the moon,
vincent held a smile on his lips.

[ 912 in total ]

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

[lonk]

mark !!

[witchcrafting]

Username: Cipher || Kalon name: Antoinette De Fleurette

Personality:

Antoinette is always paying attention to the smallest details and her deep sense of humanity makes her one of the most careful Kalons her friends know. Her methodical approach to life ensures that nothing is left to chance, and although she is often tender, her heart might be closed for the outer world. This is a sign often misunderstood, not because she lacks the ability to express, but because she won’t accept her feelings as valid, true, or even relevant when opposed to reason. She is born with a feeling as if she is experiencing everything for the first time.

{ 100 words || 569 characters }

Their 'escape':

As I lay in my bed reading by the dim light, I tried to focus and enjoy the suspense filled story, but I could not focus, for my thoughts were elsewhere, drifting off to the day's events, mostly of my early morning escape. I am 18-year-old Antoinette, living on my fathers farm, with him and my 6 rowdy brothers. Work and life is harsh for our poor family. Being the only girl in a family without a mother makes it much worse. The requirements and chores I have way me down, forbidding me from my childhood. They are demanding and selfish chores and they are never done. Once I have completed them, they always need to be done again. I can never escape this burden I have of looking out for my boisterous family and doing all of the work. Whenever I run to escape this burden it stops me, like a young, sad child waiting to be nurtured and cared for. There is only one time I can escape and that is in the early, peaceful and inviting morning.

Out into the green pastures I run and run feeling the tips of the long, soft grass tickle up my bare legs. With haste I run as far as I can from reality. As I fall onto the soft grass I allow my joyful shouts of freedom to also fall, fall onto the beautiful sound of listening silence. Falling on the grass chills my spine for it is damp and wet from the morning's dew. But the chill that overcame me soon disappears, for the beauty of the sky captures me. As the sun rises the sky is flooded with beautiful, warm colours. A gleaming, glistening, graceful, glowing green is splashed across the sky as the first layer. Painted next is the peaceful pink, followed by bright blues and oranges, yellows, pinks, mauves and many more. As the beauty of this masterpiece miraculously painted in the sky overcomes me, the fears I had held, the burdens, regrets all fade. It is as though the sky takes the sadness of life away, replacing it with hope, freedom and a pure and peaceful joy!

I linger under the sky as long as I can, observing changes and watching every sign of a new day arrive. A brand new day filled with hope and beauty! The sun now in the centre of the sky, lights up the farm, helps cast shadows on the long lush grass and brings hope to my small, hectic world. The rooster's crow brings finality to my morning's escape and allows reality's thoughts to come flooding back, ushering me home. The smell of smoke begins to fill the gentle breeze as it drifts from the chimney and out into the pastures. Life is sadly still the same, harsh and daunting, but there is still hope for I know that again tomorrow morning I would be able to escape my demanding life. I would return to the lush green grass and watch our creator meticulously paint the sky again!

{ 509 words || 2,704 characters }

[sun struck]

username:
kalon name:
personality: (100 word max)
their 'escape': (300 word min, 700 word max)

Mark;v;

[kiwi sauce]

ＢＵＴ Ｉ'ＬＬ ＳＨＵＴ ＭＹＳＥＬＦ ＩＮＳＩＤＥ ━━━
My escape – as cliché as it sounds – is the library. Albeit,
it’s no ordinary repository of knowledge. My master and I
reside within a vanishing athenaeum, heard in rumor and
sought by many. Here there are books from every nation,
culture and dialect – some older than even I know. Among
the isles of script I can lose myself in written text rather
than external strife, learning of the esoteric arts and of
the occult that had been whisked away to our shelves to
both preserve its teachings, as well as safeguard this star’s
livelihood. And yes, this star, is not the only one.
While I’m no lover of outside conversation, I’ve come to
find true delight in conversing with beings from other worlds.
There are entire galaxy’s, whole dimensions that cannot
be accessed by normal means but with my star globe I
have been granted the rare privilege of getting to know these
entities from far off worlds. My time spent elsewhere is among
the restoration department of our library. Each tome tells its
own story – be it the pages within or the binding itself, each
comes with a history all its own that need only a gentle paw
and keen eyes to detect them. I put together what the old
and make it strong again so that it will be of use to visitors.
And although I do not generally approach those who manage
to solve the riddle and enter the library, I do watch them.
It’s always amystery. What they choose says a lot about
their intentions and the type of person they are. I wonder
what the next guest will bring.

ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＮＡＭＥ ＯＮ Ａ ＰＡＧＥ ━━━
i believe their name was boss

ＩＴ ＷＡＳ ＤＩＦＦＥＲＥＮＴ ＦＲＯＭ ＭＹ ＯＷＮ ━━━
it's arcana in case you were wondering...

ＴＨＥＲＥ ＷＥＲＥ ＳＯ ＭＡＮＹ ＰＯＳＳＩＢＩＬＩＴＩＥＳ ━━━
I’m embarrassed to admit but I’m very introverted.
Groups make me anxious, strangers even more so –
they think I’m strange; ironically I feel the same.
Some are unnerved by don’t speak to them freely,
that my preference is to watch and listen than to
interact. They take for granted what you can learn
when you’re not immersed in it all. I am the over
seer after all, it’s only natural that I enjoy things
from the sidelines or laugh at jokes nobody finds
funny. It’s lonely in my corner, but I’d rather be
here safe, then out there and afraid.