Username: Nellas Lissësúl
Favorite type of RP: Animals, fantasy
Sample of writing: This is a sample of a story I'm currently writing. I'm not super happy with it and it hasn't been edited at all, because I don't usually write humans, but I chose it because it's most current. All writing is copywrited to me, 2012.
The raging ocean waves lashed at the shore as if they would never let go, the relentless wind tearing at the countryside as rain lashed each and every living thing, throwing up mist to shroud the land in anger. Mother Nature was furious. Small creatures trembled and cried out in hidden safety holes, and birds were buffeted and thrown around in the grip of the wind. Ice mixed with the rain, freezing cold, stinging hands of cruelty whipping the travelers’ hair around their faces as they struggled to keep their feet on a cold, lonely path. The sand dunes rose around the two, long grass blown flat in the wrath of the storm. A faint, watery light shone weakly in the distance while thunder crashed, and the world was illuminated eerily as lightning split the air with an electric charge. The travelers struggled onwards, pulling each other along when one slipped or lost their footing. No matter how the wrath of the weather raged around them, they would not give up. The source of light, weak through the darkness, was as a star in a moonless night, a beam of hope signaling the hopeless.
The travelers had to reach that light.
There was no choice.
*****
Though the storm raged and lashed outside, the inn was snug and cozy in its bubble of warmth and light. Music played softly in the background as nigh on a score of people sat around in the main room, cocoa and ale cupped in earthen mugs held close to those who drank of them. A kindly middle-aged woman with graying hair moved around the room, serving bread and drinks to those who had stopped by, and though she was plump around the middle she moved about with a certain agility that most her age would never possess, stopping every now and then to converse in a friendly manner with her customers, most of which who had moved down to the main room for company and a way to pass the time. The delicious scents wafting from the spiced ale and cocoa wreathed around the room, mingling with the steam from a bubbling pot of chicken broth and vegetables on the stove, almost ready to be served. The low murmur of late night conversations filled the room with a low undertone, and though the storm outside made some uncomfortable as flashes of light lit the night outside and rain slashed at the windows, they knew they were safe from nature’s wrath, and all was calm. There was always something about the smell of soup in a snug little inn at night that would put people at peace like nothing else, especially with the rain and thunder outside to increase the sense of warmth and safety within walls, and thus, hominess. The innkeeper’s wife couldn’t help but hum to herself as she bustled about, refilling mugs.
There was a knock at the door.
Immediately all was stilled. The chatter stopped, music faltered in the background. But the storm raged on. The innkeeper shared a glance with his customers who muttered among themselves, but he went all the same to open the door, cautiousness in his step as his boots thumped on the scuffed hardwood floor. Lamplight illuminated his burly outline as he threw open the door, letting the rain and wind in. Several people shuddered and pulled cloaks more tightly around shivering forms, but all turned to see who was at the door.
A pair of small forms collapsed at the threshold.
A collective gasp ran through the room, which soon burst back into action. “The poor souls!” the innkeeper’s wife exclaimed, immediately placing her tray aside and rushing over. Someone shut the door against the cold once more. It was a young boy and girl, exhausted and shivering from the cold and wet, reddened cheeks roughed raw by the sleet and rain. The middle-aged women bent over the two supine figures, concern lacing her kindly features, murmuring to herself as she checked them over. Thunder crashed overhead, and many jumped in their seats. The innkeeper’s wife rushed upstairs, where the sleeping quarters were, to get dry clothing and towels. The two children, who couldn’t be more than ten, and the girl a year or two younger, were sitting up now with the help of some of the townsfolk, and were quickly moved to an emptied couch where they were set up with mug of warm cocoa.
The sitting room returned to pretty much normal after the children had been settled in, though the looks of concern and worry on most of the people’s faces still prevailed, and the general sense of comfort and safety didn’t fully return to the inn once the pair had been sent up to two empty beds. What sort of thing would drive two children to be out in a storm like this?
Any semi-lit/lit RPs you have: None that I own myself but several RPs I've joined.
