sacred - semi literate-literate roleplay - open

[skïttles]

accepted, Avril, and take your time, Rockpath ;)

[ᴄᴀʀʀᴏᴛᴄᴀᴋᴇ.]

.:full name:.
Zoraida Arina Faye Stobula
.:nickname:.
Arina
.:gender:.
Female
.:age:.
137, but she looks 22

.:hair:.
Thick, reddish-brown hair. It's rather long, but she normally wears it up in a bun or ponytail.
.:eyes:.
Dark, forest green eyes.
.:skin:.
Her skin is rather pale, but not extremely so.

.:mutations:.
None
.:piercings:.
Her ears have been pierced once, but she doesn't have anything on her face or any other part of her body.
.:tattoos:.
She has two doves on her back, one on each of her shoulder blades. Between them is a banner that says "Peace". It's just black and white.

.:mother:.
Corine Leanora Manokey Waller (Stobula after marriage)
.:father:.
Cedach Duyer Welessir Stobula-Deceased
.:mate:.
None

.:planet:.
7
.:loyalty:.
Not loyal to the King
.: other:.
Nope

[skïttles]

im sorry...i stalked your posts a little...and you dont look literate enough :(

[ᴄᴀʀʀᴏᴛᴄᴀᴋᴇ.]

(Ok, I guess... Never mind then.)

[aberdeen]

.:full name:.
Nathan Christopher Requin
.:nickname:.
Nate
.:gender:.
Mate
.:age:.
Nineteen

.:hair:.
Light green; naturally light brown.
.:eyes:.
Gray blue
.:skin:.
Light

.:mutations:.
None
.:piercings:.
A lip ring, and multiple ear pircings.
.:tattoos:.
Lots; both arms are covers in sleeves and he has serval others over his body. They are all normal hidden though under clothing.

.:mother:.
Deceased
.:father:.
Doesn't speak to his father, says that he is dead.
.:mate:.
none
.:planet:.
7
.:loyalty:.
"Ha! what loyalty?"
.:other:.

[Mirza]

.:full name:.
Dionysios Tosia Myf Itai Roderic Emília Maëlys
.:nickname:.
Sios
.:gender:.
male
.:age:.
24; looks more or less his age, and it's doubtful that he's ever going to look any older.

.:hair:.
lank, dark umber hair that falls almost to his shoulders. looks as though he may have dyed it once upon a time, but any overt traces of color have been all but washed out.
.:eyes:.
piercing pale blue eyes. slightly asiatic.
.:skin:.
dark olive skin with the odd birthmark here and there.

.:mutations:.
none.
.:piercings:.
his ears (both lobes and cartilage) have been pierced.
.:tattoos:.
none.

.:mother:.
Semele Marylou Ilinka Stanka Karam Morta alive, mostly]
.:father:.
Ragnar Blagoje Fabianus Oscar Quinlan Somhairle deceased
.:mate:.
none.

.:planet:.
2
.: loyalty :.
conflicted; being the firstborn of his family, he had been indoctrinated into the system, and up until several years ago he had been staunchly loyal to the king. however, after the death of a close friend at the king's hands, he has been reconsidering what he had been taught his entire life.
.: other :.
nothing much, although he is a firstborn.

[skïttles]

both accepted :)
i'll start the roleplay sometime tonight...i dont know if my mind is playing tricks on me, but i have the most muse around 1-3 am xP

[skïttles]

officially started :)
yay! :)

|Azeer| .:

The city fell around her in shadow, a towering monster ready to swallow any prey that it may find. It was also a seductive city. One of the better in the system of the seven planets, eight counting the King's planet. At this point, the city was asleep, but it was very much alive. Azeer didn't want to leave it, she had made herself a home here. And more importantly, she had made herself a name. Respect was hard to come by in a land that was abandoned by all that was holy. Well, not all... Azeer mused, thinking of her own very holy wings that were absent at the time. Her eyes trailed around her, following the curves of the buildings. It was hard to believe that there was a rugged and dangerous underground here. It all seemed so pristine. The buildings were a towering kaleidoscope of colors, even at night, the glass of their windows reflecting from the moon. There were no streetlamps here, so everything was a shade of silver with underlying color.

Azeer was told stories of the Old World by her elders. The Old World was what they referred to Earth as. It was illegal to keep stories of Earth, but some persisted, and actually kept it a secret. Azeer was unsure how much to believe, after all, the story had started thousands of years before...then, it was called reality. She was told of towering buildings, similar to these, but not. They were made of things that were found under the ground, smelted down an recreated. There were things that people rode in, calls autos. They were, supposedly, what killed the world. Azeer found it funny how the humans said that something that wasn't even alive killed the world. If it was hurting anything, why didn't they just stop feeding it? She knew that the planets to the further end of the system were in worse shape, maybe even approaching the disaster that Earth had become, but she was sure that humans wouldn't make the same mistake twice. That was the curious thing about humans though, wasn't it? They loved making the same mistakes twice. Or three times. Or four. Azeer didn't think she would ever completely grasp the expanse of the human mind, and their capacity for messing things up.

She knew that the framework of the outer planets were mettul. Or metal. However it was said. Just like the framework of the buildings back on Earth. They were rumored to be to the point of collapsing. And there, it was said that the underground societies weren't so underground. Gangs ruled the streets, and everything was in chaos. Painful, malnourished, desolate chaos. Chaos without the help nor care of the King. And the scariest thing about that was that Azeer was to go to the seventh planet, the outermost, to find her assigned. She knew that they needed her help, she was, after all, their guardian angel. But one of the rules was that she was never to tell them her true identity. If anyone found out she was an angel, she would be dead. Or just as good as dead. It was the slums of all the planets, and her assigned could most likely move if they chose, but they didn't. Who would like to live in poverty? That was another thing she couldn't wrap her mind around. Why didn't all of the humans just move near the King's planet, where life was better? Azeer shook her head slightly, the pale blond waving in a curtain of gossamer around her shoulders and neck. No, she would never understand them.

[Gene]

Nicholias.

Nicholias knelt by his father's bed, staring into the sleeping face of the older man. His mouth was open, his foul-smelling breath reaching Nick's nose at irregular intervals. He had long since gotten used to the various odors that his father emitted in his sickness. His father's lungs wheezed uncertainly, as if they wanted to cease working altogether. That was probably the case. Nick could hear the crackling all the way back in his father's throat as he struggled to breathe. Nick sighed, resting his forehead on the edge of the old bed, ignoring the fact that one of the springs was poking up out of the material and poking him in the cheek. The state that his father was in now was as good as it ever got lately. It was worse when he was awake. But, somehow, Nick liked it better when he was awake, coughing without ever seeming to end. It meant that his body was trying to keep working. It was times like this, when he was sleeping, that Nick wondered if he would ever wake up. His heart fluttered in his chest every time he didn't hear his father's unsteady breathing. That wasn't a problem when he was conscious and hacking up blood.

After several seconds of listening, Nick slowly got to his feet and creeped over towards the door, trying not to wake his dreadfullly ill father; he knew the pain his father experienced when he was awake. He carefully draped his coat over himself just before exiting and walking down the street. He didn't worry about locking up like he used to - it had already been broken into several times and everyone knew by now that the only thing in that house was a dying man and a torn mattress. Nick had long since given up wishing that he could get out of there, to move to a different planet. He couldn't leave his father, not when he needed his son most. Nick sighed quietly as he slowly began to walk down the filthy street, strolling without a purpose and without looking at anyone. He was scared that, if he looked up, he would meet the eyes of one of the more violent gang members and end up getting attacked. It had happened to him before and he didn't want a repeat of the incident.

Nick pondered over what the planet must've been like before poverty had stricken it. He tried to imagine the glorious structures that must've once stood proudly along the streets. He couldn't. He attempted to picture smiling people and children playing. That thought almost made a sardonic smile cross his lips. People didn't have children here. The very thought of forcing another person to suffer through life there was practically revolting to him and almost everyone else there. It wasn't like that not very long ago, but Nick remembered the day that all changed as well as anybody. It was a little girl that was attacked. She had to be only seven or eight years old and she had long, blonde hair that reached her hips easily. It was always pulled back into a neat little braid with a red bow at the tail end of it. When she strayed just a little too far from her mother, a gang of around six people attacked her. Nick remembered hearing the shrieks of the little girl and the yells of people that tried to stop the men. He remembered making his way through the crowd and seeing that little girl's body with unseeing eyes staring straight ahead, her body covered in blood. No, no one had kids there.

[HajiBaby]

William E. Burchard:.

He went outside almost everyday, just to look at what destruction had enveloped the planet he walked upon. Dusty. Gang ridden. Sickly. Dead. Though, not completely desolate and void of life, it was pretty much just that. The Slum Planet as they called it, far away from the King's wealth and spirit of 'peace'. It disgusted him. His stomach would turn at the very thought of how corrupted this system was, and how if you wished to live moderately without the hounds of starvation nipping at your heels, you had to bend over backwards and submit or risk exile. It was not logical, not to a mind who had been around for quite some time. Not for someone who had heard all, and retold, stories of the now extinct planet called Earth. It didn't make sense, and it probably never would.

He trailed his hand along the crumbling side of a building, who's structure leaned so crookedly he expected it to fall over at that very moment. But, it stood. Vainly, and without much hope. He looked up at it, a mixed gaze of green and blue narrowing at its appearance before gliding back over to the way in front of him. Memebers of a gang sat on the stoops, whispering among themselves. He could not hear what they spoke of, but their shifty eyes told him enough. He stuck out, he was well aware, in startling white and other light colors that didnt blend well with the surrounding scenery. He didn't care though, not particuarly. As far as everyone else was concerned, he was just a normal human being...

But such was not the case. He was here for a reason; to take care of those who couldnt. The sickly and hurting were who he tended to, sparadically and random. Whoever, or whatever, crossed his path received his attention. Such was the nature of an angel who had lost his most recent assigned, and was looking for another one. Someone who showed promise, and wasn't just an empty husk.

Someone who had hope.