Gender: Female
Age: 39
Sign:
Sagittarius
Country: United Kingdom
Signup Date: November 08, 2021
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07/22/2022 08:19 AM
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𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: 𝙀𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙚𝙖
Current mood:
mellow
Guest Star: Aza-Vela 💙 O, how lovely has this eve been so far. Worry has been put to sleep, perhaps kept at a distance as well. Soft hands shaking ever so mildly are carrying a clay cup to bring the gift of hot remedy to the desired recipient. The lovely doll in rags holding this cup is being careful with her steps so as to not stumble and waste away such a soothing brew. A maiden sitting on the log, eyes on an open scroll, is meant to have the refreshment for body and spirit. The mild crunching of meddled dirt and twigs perk up the face of the alluring woman. Her attention on the streams of ink has been put into a pause. The strolling form of this beauty in rags accompanied by what is being carried leaves the sitting one to smile. She lightly pats the empty space on her left side to invite the cup-carrier to sit down beside her. The doll obliges but not before stopping and giving the maiden the piping hot gift. The maiden accepts, a thumb lightly stroking the back of one of those shaking hands to comfort her friend who she has been ever so sisterly to for so long. “Thank you,” confessed the gifted lady, enjoying this soothing spread of warmth in her bare hands. Her voice is as regal as a queen. “Did you... did you already have one for yourself?” The doll nods as she sits just a few inches to the left of the scroll-reading, gift-given friend of hers. The sight of the maiden blowing on the hot beverage and soon gently clamping her ruby red lips on the rim of the cup is pleasing to the quiet one. Bluish-green eyes are soon upon what her friend has been occupied with. The other takes notice. “Oh. Well... I am better understanding these old texts, for you and I,” revealed the maiden, still holding the cup with both hands. The doll narrows her eyes a bit, unable to comprehend what is inked on the old parchment with much of its bundled roll close to her. She musters to speak, fighting her coyness that has been haunting her ability to be heard properly for so long, even to this very eve. “W-W-W...... Why?” Although weak, her voice is quite sweet as if that of a princess who has taken a long break from being a thoroughly-punished plaything. The maiden takes another hearty drink of the soothing gift. Once done and a delightful sigh has been freed, she secures the cup in her right hand. Her left hand with its fingers, all warm from the once-held vessel, carefully holds up that small chin of her sisterly friend. Her bewitching blue eyes, brilliant as a snowflake, are aiming to bring comfort and clarity to the confused young lady. “You and I have been arms of the apocalypse for so long, Thea. What we can do so well was tempered with the means to unmake things, to end life. However, it has never been limited to accomplishing those horrid goals. With enough wisdom and leeway on how to go about things, we can also achieve the opposite. And so, my dearest, I humbly ask you this: what if you and I can create rather than just destroy?” Thea, the doll in rags, gently meets the chin-holding hand of her friend with a loving clasp on its back, the former soon striding up to hold her creamy cheek. Thea’s sealed pink lips squirm as if holding back sadness. But truly, it is a wave of blissful disbelief being suppressed. She takes a deep breath with a great desire to actually free something less vague and more confident. But it would be a whisper, not a loud proud clamor.
“I... I would love that, Aza. I would love to create... finally.” Aza, the blue-eyed tea-indulging reader, cannot unmake her smile upon Thea. The red-haired sisterly ray of sunshine is irreplaceable, invaluable, inconceivably important to this tormented beauty. Torment, that is something they have shared for too long. Even after their escape from the ungodly regime, the harrowing heyday of being nothing more than tools to bring the worst and be given the worst still haunts her as she knows it still also haunts Thea. No longer will they have to commit such atrocities and be one on the end of plenty, black and barbaric each act. Aza will not allow herself and Thea to go through all of it again. Their powers to unmake things will be far more disciplined, only to be wielded in the utmost of need. With the scroll on her lap, Aza can perhaps pave the way to a better tomorrow for both of them. Much less of atom collapsing or being rearranged to something terrifying but remodeling something terrific instead. So Aza does sorely hope. The golden-haired lady frees her hand from uniting with Thea’s cheek and sips on the hot tea again. The eagerness to share this warm wealth with her sister overwhelms her. She must let some of it loose through being the ever-caring elder out of the two of them. She moves her cup-bearing hand closer to Thea. “P-Please, Thea, have a bit more tea with me. I insist.” Thea, although hesitant for a few seconds, does not want to be rude towards Aza. She obliges after her doubt is dragged back into the depths of her broken being. Hands soon retrieve what she once gave away. Pink lips open lightly, letting the breeze behind them cool off the steamy surface. The inevitable follows, delighting herself with the tea. The cup soon reaches half-full. Aza waits for Thea to finish, wanting to free the hands of the other. Thea gives the cup back to Aza, sliding herself a bit closer. “Thank you,” Thea whispered before placing her head to rest on Aza’s left shoulder. Free away a merry sigh. Aza feels like melting from how doting this beautiful doll next to her is. Even if it would harm her badly in ways no other folk would fathom to go through, Aza will go through hell and back to protect this red-haired angel. She sips on a fair helping before gently leaning the nearest cheek of hers on Thea’s head. Brilliant blue eyes are upon the streams of ink on the parchment. “You are ever so welcome, my Thea.” The lovely eve with its peace proceeds. a n i r o l e p l a y / B r o k e n A n g e l
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12/02/2021 10:02 AM
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𝐅 𝐥 𝐢 𝐠 𝐡 𝐭 . {Writing Entry}
Current mood:
accomplished
{ Note from the author } Do play the music track above for some melody to go with this entry of mine. This entry was an absolute joy to write. ^-^
To float a bit and carelessly hover from one place to another is already hard. To soar high and sail the gales like a proud eagle, now, that is a much steeper and more daring act on its own. But she has to commit to performing the latter, even if she has failed time and time again throughout the years. Through the cruel and calculated control of an ancient devilish space-ferrying empire, the means to use the sky as another plain to travel on was laughably fleeting. In this day and age, removed from the many privileges of being an unholy puppet, this maiden is denied the ease of those godlike feats. Some, if not all, she would want to regain, oh yes. At least, they would make her long aching life a tad less unbearable. On a tall mountain cliff, this doll in rags is staring at a sea of clouds, nearly still in their presence. Bluish-green eyes seem lost in all the large clumps and puffs of white. Birds, scaled legends and angels can glide well through the milky realms. So did she, eons ago. That feeling of freedom far away from the earth was only achieved through long horrific imprisonment. Yes, she could do those extraordinary things that would make rulers in many worlds envy her badly. But those privileges came with many strings, strong, sour and sinister ones that resulted in countless exploitation and agony. The memories of old do still hurt. However, on more than several occasions, she has been told that she can restore some of them, including the means to soar the heavens again. That would be swell. And so, close those lovely eyes. Take a deep breath. Recall a heartfelt encouragement from prior millennia. It is still there in you, Astrid. The marvels and majesty of a goddess. What you believe to have been lost. You need only to reawaken them. Astrid slowly brings herself down on her right knee while still on the protruded edge she has been standing for a while. Soft fingers of her right hand are placed on the hard dirt. It is cold and coarse to the touch of someone who is quite delicate. A dear damsel who had gone through so much that to speak had become a genuine hardship for her. She takes another deep breath; creamy pink lips lightly parted while she cools her lungs. Feel the many flows of energy in the cosmos making their way into her flesh. Let her nerves feel the faint sting of those tiniest specks that were ushered into existence by the primordial forces of creation. Think of her sisterly friend. Think fondly of that loveliest doting Witch-Queen who brought her salvation and true liberty from that wretched empire that treated them both like nothing else but deadly weapons and delicious whores. Think of her kindness, her smile, her desire to make this maiden feel better even if things are bleak, her sacrifice, her love. She would not want her younger sisterly friend to remain in torment and know that she still suffers greatly to this day, does she not? Another deep breath is taken; her soft whisper of each release is sultry. The air around the kneeling maiden begins to rumble, wind swirling gradually until it gets faster. Her nerves ache. Her spark to not give in to fear and futility grows more ferociously inside her. Strands of her strawberry-blonde hair in a bun, long and flowing if brought down and loose, flail up and down from this overture of something ancient and astral being awakened from such a long slumber. Slowly clench the fingers on the rocky surface into a fist. Many specks of dirt near this lass are rising. Perhaps, even just saying her name, despite the crippling coyness, can encourage this lone doll to push on. “A-Azz-...zzaaa......” She brings herself a bit more down, perhaps an inch or two, from her lowered stature. The icy wind spiraling around her is stroking her smooth skin, tickling her cheeks that had been drenched in tears many times before. Clench that little fist tighter, forlorn shy lass. One last deep breath. Bring in the goodness. Let go of the sadness. Astrid opens her eyes as she cast that liberating breath, her voice quite crisp. In one fell swoop, the lone doll in rags pushes her entire kneeling up into the nothingness before her, vigorously and violently. The rocky edge she was kneeling from is brought into a small crater from the might that came with her powerful leap. The path of her self-induced toss is wide and arched, but soon she begins to plummet after leaving the high earth more than a hundred yards behind her. The roar of the air is nothing short of loud, growling on her ear as the minty push is giving her sullied princess face a bit of sting. She is falling through the sea of clouds. The green and brown of the great distant earth is before her sight. Lines and shapes of the many things down there are still blurred but can become clear fairly soon. One of them is a large lake bigger than the bustling town she had left from a month ago. If she fails at this latest chance to not simply float but to actually fly, the rich wonders below await her with a nasty fatal kiss and her being a lifeless corpse so soon, pretty and pathetic. Muster your bravery, almighty as the sun. Keep training your body, mind, heart and soul. Through those moments of pain, you will see it. The grand opportunity to reclaim what is rightfully yours. Temper yourself well, dare not wither and whittle. Your godhood will be yours again, dearest Astrid. Once up high on that mountain edge, the woman is becoming dangerously closer to the lake below. Even with what a watery plain to greet her, she is sure to die or have her unholy body put her to sleep for months, if not years, before she recovers enough. Cease clinging into inhibitions. Spark up and more those tiniest living blocks that may as well belong to a crowd of celestial beings that can move the heavens and the earth. The lake is becoming larger to her gaze. Her soft voice cracks as she brings herself nearly in tears, trying her very best to finish speaking the name of her sisterly friend who she misses so achingly much. “......-Vela.” Just a few yards before the lake surface, a mighty crack of thunder rattles the air for miles! Branches of nearby trees by the hundreds sway from the wall of gale that blasted from the center of that madness which is Astrid herself. Even the lake itself awakens from this explosive drama through a tall white tower of water! She gradually directs herself from a sheer downward drop to a new forward path in long wide swerves. She zooms ahead; her speed is much faster than the raging winds around her. The once-fixed bun falls off, revealing her beguiling fiery-blonde hair that flails along with the edges of her tattered cloth soaring so swiftly ahead. Miles are covered in mere seconds as this lonely lady has reawakened what she has been dying to regain for ages, after much trial and more errors that she can possibly count. Joy comes with sweet sorrow, for tears are soon shed from her narrowing eyes. The waves of disbelief are surreal, but so are those of her bliss and pride. Astrid pirouettes to change her formless road from forward to up. With another rich thud of something only the heavens should be able to sing, there goes another thunder! Astrid hurls herself up high, her right arm raised up with its fist fairly clenched. The cool battering breeze is sensational. A new curiosity manifests itself on this momentous occasion. White flames soon surround this skyward beauty, gnawing through her dreadful pauper’s clothing until it is no more. This searing force hurts her a bit, but she endures it. Perhaps, she is aware that it is a transformation she must go through. Astrid may be reawakening more than just her gift to travel these higher plains, after all. Left bare while up high, the gleaming flame dresses this young beauty in something slimming and shimmering. A slender gown-like ensemble fitting what she may probably is. Two pairs of pellucid seraphic wings come into form on the back on her back. Truthfully, they are not needed for her heavenly journey. They are extensions of her celestial form to store in and brew the power of the stars in the event that they are needed on her command. Astrid soon towers past the mountain she tossed herself from. She curves her path again to explore what is ahead rather than just what is aloft. Astrid gently wipes her tears with a curled finger while her lovely watery eyes are gawking at the far horizon. That blend of joy and woe is still on her face turning a bit rather around the nose from her silly weeping. It should not be a shock that this heavenly doll with her dazzling dress and wondrous wings is thankful for this incredible freedom she is given. She dares not to give it away without a fight. O, how the exceedingly elegant Aza-Vela would have been so proud that her sisterly companion from eons ago can also achieve what that elder Witch-Queen had done so prior to her passing. Awaken and reclaim her godhood for her own. As her tears lessen, Astrid stirs a bit of her pride awake, letting out a sultry smirk providing more intrigue to her glamorous visage. One that many below will desire her madly at the mere sight of her right now. She springs parts of herself forward to let out another loud crack of thunder. Astrid pierces through the heavens in pirouettes every now and then. Roar on and away through her skyward sail while feeling as unstoppable as a storm and perhaps faster than one. The angel delights herself once again in a divine privilege she lost eons ago. The gift of flight. a n i r o l e p l a y / B r o k e n A n g e l
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12/02/2021 08:30 AM
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Prompt: Pursuit.
The red-haired maiden finds herself in a grand hall, leaving the slim passage behind her. Her greenish-blue eyes marvel at this citadel of turning wheels, cogs, and rods. Most are colossi in contrast to her young damsel of a stature. Darkness is kept at bay by spots and stripes of yellow lights placed in nooks and crannies to guide and give light to anyone servicing certain parts of the monolithic machinery. The symphony of hardened steel, brass, and copper is rich as a roar of the open sea. The path ahead, a long bridge with guard rails on both sides, seems to lead to a distant wide landing and branches into different shorter bridges and even staircases going up and down. Her friend has been onward for half an hour who she is in pursuit of. The spirited fellow is dutiful to give the big cheese of this place a stern talking, even if it means awakening his steel to make a sharp point. While he can keep fending danger on his own, he will still need all the help he can get to bring into life a noble goal. This sky fortress they are both in is bearing on a kingdom that had just recovered from a harrowing assault by land. The same head minds of this astonishing modern marvel were the cause of much grief that led to ruined properties and lives lost. This maiden and his friend are among the band of brave souls who must infiltrate and disable this hovering island before it can be used to usher in the worst for the good folks below. The clap of metal on leather is crisp as she goes for a brief stroll further into the long narrow path ahead. Her eyes wander left and right, high and low, searching for the respective path her friend took. A gloved hand is holding onto the highest rail to ensure her balance and safety. A fall into what distant darkness is underneath her feet would be nothing short of horrifying. He did say early on that he will leave a clue of sorts for her team to see, so they can catch up. Those who need or want to, of course. Her eyes narrow at the sight of something protruding from a platform two stories above going into a doorless passage. The lights on top of the doorway give enough for her gaze to understand that it is some sort of broken piece of machinery. It lets out a rather rhythmic spark, making nearby walls glow every several seconds. The sides of the door frame seem to have been licked by fierce swordplay judging from the lengthy slash marks on the left and right of that entry. And she knows how ferocious her friend can be if he is given time and focus to unleash his skill with a blade. How curious. And she, a wandering cat on a dire quest, must be fed with such a curiosity. The red-haired maiden goes onward further into this long narrow bridge, carefully treading with a hand on the rail. She tries not to get distracted by the big moving pieces and their deep grinding noises and sharp squealing. What manner of help she can actually give him, she has to first catch up and be by his side again. Behind her, several stories up and coming out of a different passage meant for smaller things to come in and out of, something is watching her. Six pairs of red eyes and faint skittering of something inhuman. Through those round rubies, they feed information to be sent away, bouncing off from walls and into other apparatuses. Surveillance in a different part of the fortress is at work, doing well to assess the level of threat this other intruder may bring. The former is indeed formidable. And so, what about this lone doll in slimming leather? The feeling of being watched embraces her. The maiden stops to look around, minding the wheels and cogs, the large spinning rods connecting one portion of machinery to another. Steam hisses once in a while, adding more noise for her ears to drink. Her eyes are nearly lost from all this hustle and bustle of inanimate objects. Alas, the watchers are too far from her and they are able to easily crawl away from direct sight if necessary. Deeming that she is wasting precious time with her wandering eyes and glued feet, she snaps her right out of her spellbound pause and takes a deep breath. The large patch of metal landing where staircases and smaller bridges meet is getting closer; the former which does go up being is something she would want to follow to be with her friend. The spies also pursue this wandering doll. Given time, other odd assets will arrive to greet her, perhaps even capture her. It would be such a blight to her noble quest if she fails to realize too soon and act accordingly that her presence is in this sky fortress is quite unwelcome. a n i r o l e p l a y / 5 4 3 9 0 6
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11/17/2021 02:35 PM
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Prompt: Stargazing.
Be lost in the beauty of the painting above. Huge and beyond reach, it houses mist-like ships, a glowing cheese that can make a hungry stomach growl, and sparkling diamonds far older than even the first of men to ever crawl on this earth. This wonderful canvas leaves the greenish-blue eyes of a meek-looking damsel enthralled. Who or what must she give warmest thank for making such grand darkness this beautiful? Being within thick cold walls and cages for days on end, even months, with only a pale ray of light or a lit wick or torch as a silent guide or companion, at times, she forgets that not every sea of shadows bodes ill for her. The ones she had swum into merely had vile hunters on the prowl who pursued her and dragged her into their dreaded depths. Even in daylight, where she was jailed felt like an eternal night. The moments were grim and grimy with her serving to suffer. Who was giving her suffering was savoring her every little squirm and squeak. Her fragility and futility to fight off her cruel fate were explored with monstrous pride and passion. But tonight is a moment of peace, comfort, and appreciation, not of unrest, horror, and animosity. This dark place is far better than the ones fashioned behind brick and steel with a distant flame as the loathsome moon. The sweet fortune of a good breeze drops by, caressing her lovely mildly-shuddering flesh with hints of scars and bruises quite tucked away in her tattered clothes that can be torn apart with enough strength pulling on them. Long red hair in a mess flails weakly from the same visitation. She also drinks in this brisk stream to cool her lungs that had ached plenty of times from tears shed and labored breaths of pain and terror. Beauty in rags all alone on the edge of the woods is contented by her solitude beneath the starry skies. Form a faint smile on those pink lips. Perhaps, she can find a bit of food even if just berries before she bids this night farewell. Start a new day when her eyes reopen after a long rest. However, to her misfortune, to her blindness of the wonderful canvas above, there is a gazer from behind. More than one, even. Their gathered fondness is not offered to the great portrait of above, no. It is wickedly devoted towards the stargazing doll. The strong rope and thick strips of cloth in hand bode ill for her if they succeed with going about their devilish plan which the lone maiden is the required guest of honor. Will her eternal night of horrors resume or will she soon gain the vigilance and wit to lose the trail of her would-be hunters? Be lost and enthralled by the beauty above, raggedy doll. Its lovely darkness is one that she would much prefer to gaze upon. a n i r o l e p l a y / 5 4 3 9 0 6
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11/14/2021 07:42 PM
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Prompt: Climb.
Current mood:
adventurous
Brave the thin lofty air, lone beauty. The icy lick stings what lovely flesh is ever so bare to nuzzle on. Reach up to rocky ledges, thick or thin, and be inches or a foot higher than before. Keep those feet steady; cling on what nook or cranny there is to plant them on, lest entertain a long and horrific fall. Do not look down. This upward exploit is a dare is out of desire or perhaps duty. This living doll in rags, even with only a little spill of words to proclaim from prior days to weeks, must seek to make an audience with someone or something that the world below would definitely deem as celestial. Whether the myth is indeed real or utter hokum, she will discover quite soon. She hopes, sorely so, that it is the former eventuality. The climb is indeed hard. What food in her belly is lesser in its nourishing fuel for her to keep going. Her limbs writhe. Her ankles and palm are sore. Her breath from rosy lips behind an old olive-tinted cloth is weak and desperate. But she must—she simply must keep on climbing! The peak seems closer or so her eyes are imagining it to be. She pauses for a bit, reconvening her thoughts and maybe dropping a soft gulp too. Almost there. Up one grabbing hand after another. Her right hand nearly slips as the next ledge is brittle and what morsel of earth to hold onto just crumbles! She squeaks from sudden shock and dread! But soon, her loose hand founds another corner to cling onto. Deep breaths. Climb some more. She can see something green as grass just yards above her. Not just such a lush patch but a wider ledge akin to a cave opening. How odd that the air is quite fair again, albeit still a bit cold. She pays little mind to this curiosity and pulls herself, one limb at a time, to reach that great hole above, longing to end this climb. The lone miss drags herself up and into a slim tunnel, rolling herself to soon lie on her back. She gasps a few times, her voice so sultry with each puff. After two minutes being prone at the entry, she turns her gaze upon the slim tunnel ahead. The light from the other side is not only close, it she can make out a form there. Another upward path. Slowly, she helps herself up. Tired as she may be, she must go on. Her stroll is careful. Quite thoughts are deliberating with each other regarding where this new path will lead her to. Once out of the cave, she is met with a set of large spiral stairs of earth and moss. Almost there. Or so she still hopes. After nearly five minutes go up, making her well on narrow serpentine roads and one wide shallow hill, she is treated to a stellar sight. Those greenish-blue eyes nearly glimmer not just from the smiling sun but this grand plain above white clouds. Other peaks can be seen from the distance, some beyond a mile away from where she stands. One who yearns for adventure would achingly adore being in this breathtaking realm. Savor the splendor with what the senses can spare. The doll in rags lets out a soft joyful gasp from the transcendent thrill of what she is witnessing. Living legends of scale soaring the skies. Nearly hundreds of them. They are beautiful, dancing around in this large ballroom of highwind, away from the world below. The myth is real. Take a deep a sweet breath, red-haired lass. As much as it is fondest to just stare at these elder lords of the skies, there is a duty for her to fulfill. Now, another climb awaits for her to undertake. A different one. Speak with one of these lofty legends and humbly ask for their mighty aid. aniroleplay/543906
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11/11/2021 03:57 PM
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Maiden and Monster. {Sample.}
This is my first-ever public writing sample. I hope you enjoy it. ❤
A bruised hand with parted fingers is raised before one who is out of breath. Each puff is a burden, all thanks to strength sorely spent. Strum the cold air in this moon-shy night. Song of the rain does not yield to a sudden pause. Fingers playing a formless instrument soon clench with the means to hold something that is not there. But that nothing is banished by a swirling line of glass before the silly musician, extending on both sides of a now hidden palm. Flash and clash! This sorcery takes the shape of a tool to kill. A shortsword with its twin edge rather poor in their sharpness. The gripping hand is lightly shuddering; but the grip itself is firm. At a twist of a wrist, the point is raised upon the high sorrowful ceiling. Another hand belonging to the same person joins the lone grip. Deep breaths of anguish are daring to be calmed sooner than these thoroughly-soaked landscapes. This maiden in rags whose regal face is no stranger to harm must last this aching night. There is ancient horror that she must snuff, for she is the only one in these lands with the current time and aptitude to fulfill this noble duty. The rest need to better tend to their own woes. The blade she summoned could not be called upon as her mind was hexed the prior hour, before it lessened in its effect. Now, with a much better grip of herself as much as she does with the white-hilted sword before her, retaliation against the huge hexer may come with sweeter fruit, bitter for it as the wrath she failed to properly flaunt further simmers. Roar, Horrid One in the distance! It is a giant cloaked in shadows with three pairs of glowing red eyes. The three-mile gap between them was out of her need to conceal herself for a third of an hour, trying to remove the tangle of that skill-dampening curse from earlier. Not all kinds of mysticism was denied from her to still use, thank goodness. But the higher ones, she needed to cleanse herself of what dark arts she was momentarily afflicted by. As fierce as a disposition as she maybe giving it, dread is also with the raggedy maiden. This is no mere dregling of a foe. For all intents and purposes, the colossus of shadows is an ancient god, predating the civilizations of this lush world. But as its tyranny has run amok, even the likes of it must be brought upon justice. Many tried. Almost all of them failed. Now, this lovely outlander garbed as a pauper must commit to what has been in vain for ages. What curse there was in her veins, much of its potency has been expelled. She can feel the bridge between her and a well of power that takes a while to summon. As she was given something to suffer from by this big blackened blight of the lands, it is her turn to respond in cosmic kind. Free another breath with a blend of calm and pain. Set that fear aside. Pale blue eyes meet the sinister six. The maiden leaps out of the high rock her feet have been standing on and soon lands on a lower plain riddled in puddles. Clench her teeth as she does the grip. After a fifth of a mile is reached, she stomps a foot forward sternly. Fly onward! Her pouncing self breaks the pace of sound! The giant leaps with another roar to meet the hasty lass. A crack of thunder wails across the night! Winds worthy of a storm gallops away from this intervention between the red-haired swordsmaiden and the great shadow. The giant was not fast enough to stop the sweep of her blade that may as well be a godly clobber of a mountain upon its face down to its chest. She kicks the air to toss herself in a twirl, hoping to regain balance as she is soon heading down to earth beneath them. The giant is knocked back to harshly descend on the rain-filled plains with a loud tremor and plenty of splashes to go with it! She follows but without the tragedy of a nasty fall, unlike her colossal foe. The rain has yet to stop. She is out of breath again, refilling her burning lungs with the cold drink of the night. The sword is once again raised before her, she knows this dark god is not easily defeated. And so she waits, in the event of a sudden trick to fool her. Keep the brave face, young one from beyond this known world. The true battle may have just started. ( Credit to Sir Mithrandir for proofreading. ^-^ )
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11/08/2021 03:23 PM
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{ Some Things to Address. }
~ My character only appears as Anna from the Frozen films. She is not Anna. ~ I'm new to role-playing in general, not to writing stories. ~ I write at multi-para length at least when role-playing. I don't respond back to role-play contents below 1 paragraph with a total word count of 80 words or way less. ~ Response speed is determined by my mood and inspiration. I don't operate on the per-[insert time measurement] kind of response time. I will not kowtow to your impatience and warped sense of priority, so bugger off with those. I can/will sleep soundly that we don't to be further acquainted if you're such an impatient individual. ~ Please be creative and constructive and creative when talking to me. I don't mind the pre-made stuff, but perhaps don't overdo it as if there's no life and layers to what contexts that you're trying to get across my way to intrigue me. Make it sound like you cared enough to have actually paid actual attention to what I have on my profile. I mean, I placed those details there so you aren't left with a blank page to think about and build your response from, didn't I? ~ I will ignore ultra-lazy responses. #SorryNotSorry You're supposed to be a role-player, not a waste of web space and my brain cells in a place where we bring to life our imagination. Come on, get it together and be genuinely enjoyable to interact with. ~ We're going to disagree on certain things which is inevitable. And if gets to the point that our impasses cannot be reconciled and no agreeable compromises can be made, it's best that we part ways. I don't care if you think ill of me. I have my boundaries and preferences to factor strongly. I'll stick with them.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely, The writer behind the Broken Angel
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