A place for In Character writings. Tags coming soon!
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
((So I started WoW again. It’s nice, and I think the creativity is back. This is a drabble for my blood elf Naoki who has a fat thing for a death knight that he’ll never admit to. Cut for slight NSFWness.))
((Iv’arri journal post inspired by RP tonight.))
Most people look peaceful when they sleep. Sometimes, Theiron looks troubled. His face pinches like he’s in pain, or he’ll grumble and roll over. Right now, his face looks strained. He looks tired even though he’s sleeping; he’ll probably be exhausted in the morning.
((Jamir snippet. It’s been too long since I’ve written.))
((For my trooper on BC, Aschleigh. The one referred to as he is his lover that was played by someone who no longer plays. I didn’t want to assume to keep the character’s past in Asch’s, so I removed the name.))
They betrayed me. Men I followed, men I fought for and were willing to die for. They betrayed me. For what? A bomb? Glory? Credits? I just can’t wrap my head around it. Gearbox was a good man, he’s the one who taught me what to do. Gave me direction and a pat on the back when I needed it. I looked up to him…
Half of that might be because he reminded me of him….
Something I was writing, and lost my train of thought on. Might not ever finish it, but hey.
((Charisma, cross posted from RP-haven.))
Dear Miss Silversong,
It grieves me to inform you that your father has been killed on the Molten Front. He died serving honorably, and has left his lands to his only remaining blood. The package that accompanies this letter contains all of the paperwork necessary to move things forward.
((Levi, cross posted from RP-haven.))
Thunk!
….creeeeak!
That last swing bit into the meat of the training dummy, the wood underneath the straw wrapped targets. The bones. Always aim through your targets. Strike hard, strike true. Don’t swing your sword unless you mean business. It is a weapon, not a toy!
((Aerren, cross posted from RP-haven.))
Soft breath, the smell of grease, fuel and leather. Two men sleep entangled in each other’s arms, each other’s legs. It isn’t what Aerren had expected initially, to go from lovers to live-in boyfriends. To have a bond so close and so tight that sometimes it was hard to breathe. And he liked it that way.
((Aerren, cross posted from RP-haven.))
It started with a hello.
People underestimate the power of that word. In the face of a pretty woman, even the best man can stutter. Under the gaze of a gorgeous man, even the strongest woman can falter. It is the makings of alliances, the breaking of silences. As warm as the desert, as cold as the icy North. Hello is a powerful word indeed.
((Aerren, cross posted from RP-haven))
“He walks by the road that leads out of Refuge Point. You’ll be able to find him there.”
Lieutenant Valorcall, carrier of the Sigil of Arathor. If he was anything like the other men I’d sent to their graves, this would be easy money. Already I could hear a horse’s hooves in dirt turning to the stone rode, the shift of his armor as he sat in the saddle.
He’d never see it coming.