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Post by floruit on Jan 17, 2017 17:47:14 GMT -5
you need to send me a role-playing sample before you start making your character, bluespur. i'll mark the thief as claim pending, but the spot isn't guaranteed to you until you pm me a role-playing sample.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2017 18:41:52 GMT -5
[ vroom vroom ]
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Post by floruit on Jan 18, 2017 1:15:32 GMT -5
one more post before bed in case anyone on at midnight is interested in this.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 18, 2017 8:20:22 GMT -5
[ yo yo yo ]
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Post by floruit on Jan 18, 2017 22:58:58 GMT -5
here i am to bump this thread.
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Post by floruit on Jan 21, 2017 4:13:37 GMT -5
[ diomedes vs morning: the post.
also, Bluespur and Π²lue Π²lood, if you want to get this rp going but won't have your full bio done for a while, i don't mind if you put up a super brief appearance and personality so you can go ahead and respond! ]
The tunnels were always stranger at night. They were deep enough underground that natural light never slipped through once you had closed the hatch behind you, so whether it was night or day shouldnβt have made a significant difference. It did for Diomedes, though. Perhaps it was just the fact that no one else was around. A person couldnβt get much more alone than this without leaving the city. A hundred feet or more of earth separated them from the buildings and streets above, and the headquarters was still quite far away. Their home was farther from the base than most. It was mostly a safety issue. If they were to be found by law enforcement, they needed to give the rest of the group plenty of time to destroy anything that could link them to Requiem and evacuate. The other part of it was that they spent more time in their underground room than at their actual residence, so the distance wasnβt all that inconvenient. Working on highly illegal plans in a crowded apartment complex that could be investigated at any time was too risky by their standards. Besides, they didnβt trust their neighbors.
A month ago or so, one of the older men in the building went to get his groceries from the lobby and returned ten minutes later to find all of the furniture in his living room missing. They wouldnβt mind having their couch stolenβit did double as their bed, but they spent most nights away from their apartment anyway. Most of their valuables were locked up in a storage room just off the main room of the headquarters only they had the key to, so potential thieves would only be sparing them the trouble of dragging the things in their apartment out to the curb to be collected. It was the investigators the landlord would call in that made them nervousβit was unlikely they would find anything suspicious, but that was no guarantee. And they had survived this long by learning that there was rarely an unreasonable level of caution to have when dealing with Requiem business.
Right now they were feeling their way along a narrow passageway in complete darkness, familiar enough with this stretch of tunnels that they didnβt need to waste their flashlight batteries on it. They estimated the time was somewhere between four and five in the morning, so there was no rush to get to the headquarters. Most people wouldnβt start showing up until six. Diomedes woken up about an hour previously to meet with a courier who had a delivery from them. The tiny box they had tucked into their bag was far too important to be left in their apartment for any amount of time. It was the groupβs monthly allotment of psych chips. There were only a dozen or so in the box, but they were the safer ones, stolen from manufacturing plants and carefully modified by Requiem tech specialists. Apollo was a genius in his field, but he couldnβt make all the psych chips they found capable of use in hijacking. The ones they stole from immortales households were often outdated and unsuitable for anyone except their original owners to use, no matter how many modifications you made to them. Fresh psych chips were incredibly rare. Half a dozen of them meant the group could take on two big missions without having to worry about their tech malfunctioning.
The courier had mentioned this was a particularly good batch, and they took her word for it. She was a young girlβno more than seventeen, by their estimatesβbut she had lasted longer than most messengers and seemed to know what she was doing. Normally they came once or twice and then were gone, either promoted to a better position or, more likely, killed. It was a dangerous job. They had done it for a while and were grateful when word came down that they were going to be made part of an actual group. The girlβher codename was Isinu, but she preferred being called Izzyβhad been carrying information and supplies for Requiem for about four months now. She was a little excitable, but a good worker. Diomedes would have been happy to have her as part of the group if they needed more people. Who knew how long the newer members would last? They didnβt like thinking about it, but Apollo was the only person they knew from their early days in Requiem who was still alive. Lasting a decade or more was almost unheard of in the organization. They were both lucky to be alive.
Things could have been better, of course. Getting the newer group members used to how things worked had been more difficult than they had anticipated. Explaining things that were second nature to them took time. They hadnβt done a large hijacking in quite some time, mostly because some people were still learning the ropes. There was also the problem of immortales becoming more aware of what they were doing and taking precautions to protect themselvesβbut those were currently only rumors. All the information they had been receiving over the past few weeks had been reassuring: no groups compromised, few issues during missions, supply lines secure. Still, they werenβt the type to relax just because everything looked like it was fine.
While they were thinking about things looking orderly, it occurred to them that they should probably use the extra time they had to get ready to face the group. At some point most everyone had witnessed them on three hours of sleep in as many days, hands trembling after downing yet another cup of coffee, but that wasnβt how Diomedes liked to present themselves. The people taking orders from them seemed calmer when they looked put together and confident, regardless of how much their appearance differed from their mental state.
Grey light suffused through the tunnel they were in, informing them that they had arrived at their destination. They opened a heavy metal door and stepped into the headquarters, eve burning at the sudden brightness. At this point, they could navigate most of the rooms blindfolded and drunk, so waiting for their blurry vision to clear up was no problem. The psyche chips were on the tables and the coffee pot was turned on before they began seeing clearly. Five minutes later the coffee was done and they were in a new set of clothes with their hair wrapped up in a towel. Efficiency was important to them. The trick to getting ready so quickly was an ice cold showerβthat would wake you up and give you plenty of incentive to get dressed and make yourself a hot drink.
It was somewhere around 5:30 a.m. now, which meant that Apollo was probably in the lab, either getting an early start on todayβs work or finishing up what he began the previous night. Diomedes had found that they liked having someone else around who worked ridiculous hours. It meant that at least one of them would remember to make food (or more coffee) eventually. Normally they would have waited until the rest of the group had arrived to announce the new batch of psych chips, but it wasnβt as if any of the others would be able to put that information to use. Even they didnβt know more than the basic information about how the chips workedβthey trusted Apollo enough to give them any relevant information.
They left the box on the table as they walked to the lab, realizing that if they just gave Apollo the chips he might keep working until he fell asleep in one of the lab chairs. They had seen it happen before. βGood morning, sunshine,β they called as they swung open the door, unable to keep a note of cheeriness past the first word. Diomedes was incapable of being peppy for more than a few seconds at a time before they had gotten some caffeine in their system. Still, they did smile a little at the joke. Sunshine, Apolloβ¦ Yeah, they really must be exhausted if this was what their humor had come to. βWe got in some nice new psych chips a few hours ago. Theyβre out here if youβre interested in getting the first look.β It seemed unlikely that the man would turn down an opportunity to look at the latest designs of psych chips, but they wanted to be sure they wouldnβt be left eating breakfast alone. Coffee and whatever meal they could make with the ingredients they had on hand would be a decent way to start the day, provided they didnβt doze off before the caffeine kicked in from sheer boredom. βI just made some coffee, and Iβll cook you breakfast as well if you can keep me awake long enough to make it.β
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Post by Π²lue Π²lood on Jan 22, 2017 12:11:23 GMT -5
( thanks flo! i'll try and finish it asap anyhow, i'm just hecka slow at making characters haha )
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Post by Deleted on Jan 22, 2017 12:34:12 GMT -5
Codename Apollo Jasper Lestrange
Nights were his friend and day was the enemy; it had been as a teenager that Apollo had switched his sleep-schedule, and it had stuck ever since. Now that he really thought about it, that had been...wow, a decade. That was rare in this line of work, as Requiem managed to prove; he and Diomedes were the only remaining original members, the rest new and honestly, people that Apollo had yet to learn to trust.
He was not a predictable man, but the one thing he could be counted on was to be in the laboratory at stupid hours of the morning. For example; today, he had been there since...three or four in the morning, unable to sleep and tired of his neighbours yelling. He did try to make use of his rent and so sleep there, but it was exceedingly hard when his apartment was rundown and filthy and often considered part of the slums. It was made even less helpful by the fact that this body was delicate and quite attractive, meaning he got some more attention than he had back when he'd had his original body. That had been a long time ago, too, and he was glad that he hadn't had any sentimental attachments to it. He'd simply buried it and paid for a headstone. His family thought he was dead.
That's not very nice, said a voice in his head, and Apollo set down the little screwdriver he'd been using, teeth gritting. Really, Jasper, you ought to know better.
"Shut up," he murmured softly, glad that there was not yet anyone around to see this little display. Talking to himself wasn't exactly uncommon (especially when he was working), but talking to himself and telling himself to shut up and the like was becoming tiring. And yet...he had to, because if he responded in his mind then Arian would try to reign back control. He'd learned this a while ago and he'd learned it the hard way. "Get outta my head."
Get out of my body, he retorted, sounding something like a scornful person. Apollo found it hard to believe that this man was a timid one, found it hard to believe that he'd actually been well-liked in the rich community. Of course, in the end, he was just a body to be used and oh, hell.
"What are you doing?" he asked, tilting his head back and turning away from his work so he could keep an eye on the door. "Stop that."
There was something smug to Arian's tone as he spoke. I'm just giving you a headache. Scratch that; I'm not doing anything, your body works of its own accord. Oh, wait, it's my body.
Despite knowing that it would hurt him as much as it would hurt Arian, Apollo absently picked up his crafting knife and drew a line into his palm. He was used to things like this, he could deal with it. The precious little rich man in his head, however, yelped outwardly; and it came out in his own voice, too. Oh, that was annoying. Blood welled in the cut and he curled his fingers into a fist, watching it slide out from under the delicate fingers and drop onto the floor beside him. For a good few minutes, he watched this display, before standing up to clean the wound and bandage it.
Hand freshly bandaged, he lost himself into his work, and was glad that his headmate did not speak again. He lost track of time, then, working on dissembling broken psyche chips to see if their inner-workings were the same. It was only when he heard Diomedes' voice that he jerked out of his thoughts and looked up, blinking a few times before refocusing. Huh. Was that really the time? Arian had been quiet for far too long; but then again, it always worked when he injured the man's body. The periods of silence, he had to admit, were worth it. His head no longer hurt but his hand was aching.
"New psyche chips," he repeated, standing up and wincing at the faint pull in his legs. At least he'd stood up slowly - and he supposed that was an indicator of how long he had been here. He took a few moments to stretch himself out, sighing softly as muscles loosened and joints clicked and damn, he had to admit, he felt better for it. His previous body had had some bad chronic pain; but this one was light and lean and so easy to move. He was inclined to keep it until it began to get random aches and pains, honestly. He probably could, unless he wanted to try something new with psyche chips.
Ah, but of course Diomedes wouldn't just give him the chips. They were more intelligent than that. Apollo exhaled slowly and wandered over, brushing past them lightly and wandering over to the box and oh god, the scent of coffee hit him and he inhaled. Maybe, just maybe, he was addicted to caffeine. Caffeine and nicotine (much to Arian's dismay). He didn't itch for a cigarette now, however, and so he could settle for coffee; he poured himself a mug and took a moment to drain a good third of the mug, before setting it aside and instantly going towards the box.
It was a surprise and it showed on his face, eyebrows pulling up and mouth going slack. With a very delicate touch, he picked up one of the chips and examined it cautiously.
"These are brand new," he breathed, looking over at Diomedes with widened eyes. "I want to kiss you right now, Dio. Seriously. Come here. Let me kiss you, oh my god."
Honestly, Apollo was not the sort to be overly-emotional - until it came to psyche chips. Fresh psyche chips with the only modifications he could see being from other Requiem tech specialists? It was like a dream come true. You're so strange, said Arian, awakening due to the presence of another person. Apollo ignored him pointedly. Fresh psyche chips? They're stolen!
He couldn't tell the other man in his head to shut up without looking like there was something wrong, and so he simply rocked back on his heels and breathed out slowly. Ignoring Arian was hard to do when he was literally in his head, but that didn't matter. Honestly, the man was more interested in the psyche chips and also praising Diomedes to the best of his abilities, because they knew what got him all hot and bothered and he loved it (well; not literally, but it was a comparison he had to say out loud one day). He then paused, and squinted.
"You been looking up ways to turn me the hell on?" he asked, a note of cheerfulness in his voice because damn, he couldn't hold back the inappropriate jokes. "If you wanna get into my pants, just say so."
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Post by floruit on Jan 24, 2017 14:43:58 GMT -5
[ that's fine, blue! i just wanted to check in. ]
Diomedes was fighting to keep a grin off their face. They were accustomed to hiding fear or anger for the sake of the group, but genuine happiness was more difficult to keep under wraps. It was a rare occasion that they had to try not to smile or laugh. The jokes other members of Requiem sometimes made about their jobs never amused themβthey had been around too long. Joking about botched hijackings or getting caught by law enforcement stopped being funny once those things actually happened, and they didnβt have time for the people who kept the jokes going, believing nothing bad would ever happen to them. Requiem had lost plenty of good members like that. They had a few good missions, started thinking they were invincible, then slipped up and were punished for it. Then new members came in, didnβt heed the warning of the older members, and the process repeated itself. Over and over and over again. Thinking about it made them worry about the recent group members. Someone might seem like they had learned to be cautious from the mistakes of others, but you couldnβt be sure the lesson stuck until they had a brush with death themselves.
The only thing that kept them from getting cocky was the thought that lingered in the back of their mind before every briefing, during every mission, after every celebration: luck was the main thing keeping them alive. Most of the deaths they had witnessed over the past decade or so could have easily been them. They just happened to get the functional psych chip or be in the one place their pursuers didnβt think to check. Their years of training meant next to nothing if they were unlucky. They werenβt special; they could die just as easily as anyone else.
But now wasnβt the time to think about their own mortality. They pushed those thoughts aside and allowed themselves a small smile. βDonβt give me so much credit. I didnβt risk my life to get them, I just picked them up from Izzy. But if you insist on thanking me somehow, you can mix up my coffee. You remember how I like it, donβt you?β Apollo, much to their confusion, would drink coffee black. No cream, no sugar, nothing. Meanwhile, they wouldnβt so much as look at coffee until it was pale brown and painfully sweet. It had been a point of argument other nights. Apparently, it didnβt make sense for them to drink doctored up coffee. They could get caffeine from something else if they didnβt like the taste. Diomedes responded that they did like the taste, but only when they could also taste sugar and cream. Eventually the argument had dropped offβone of them probably went to sleep in spite of the coffeeβbut they still remembered it vividly for some reason. Maybe because they seldom had the time to argue about things that were so inconsequential.
They had turned away from Apollo and were digging through the mahogany cabinets they had gotten from some immortales house. The original owner would be horrified to learn they were now scratched up and dusty, not used for displaying beautiful glassware or pieces of art, but for the low quality ingredients available to the finitissium. They grabbed everything that seemed like it might make a decent breakfast and placed it on the table. Their focus had shifted from Apollo to the monumental task of making a nice meal with what they had on hand, so his next comment caught them unaware. Diomedes snorted and slapped a hand to their mouth, trying to muffle their laughter. Losing it at the first inappropriate joke they heard didnβt make them look very stoic, but, to be fair, they hadnβt been prepared for that. Apollo wasnβt usually so enthusiastic, even with new psych chips. This batch must really be as important as Izzy had made them out to be.
βListen, if I were trying to seduce you, bringing you a bunch of psych chips would be too easy. Everyone knows that well-made psych chips are the one thing you love in this world. It would be unfair,β they said, no longer bothering to hide their amusement. Apollo had shattered the serious manner they tried to put on. It would take some time for them to put back on the persona of the emotionless leader. Besides, Apollo was one of the few people who knew them beyond the role they played for their job. This was nothing new. βDo you have any preferences for what we eat? No one has brought in fresh ingredients for a while, so weβre stuck with whatever I can throw together from this crap.β
The food they had set out on the table wasnβt too bad by finitissium standards. A normal meal for someone in the slums was whatever they could find that wouldnβt make them sick. None of the ingredients here would kill them, they just might not taste very good. Diomedes looked to Apollo, waiting for a reply, and their eyes settled on his bandaged hand. That hadnβt been there the day before. They were very careful to keep track of injured group members, because not properly treating a simple wound could put someone out of commission for days, perhaps weeks. And, as far as they knew, Apollo had no reason to be injured. It was possibly to hurt yourself in the lab, of course, but he wasnβt very accident-prone. He was more careful than that.
Or he used to be. Recently, it seemed that the man kept getting hurt. Nothing too serious, just lots of little scratches that they never saw happen. They never got to see the injuries, just the bandages that covered them. They shouldnβt have been suspiciousβApollo had proved time and time again to be trustworthyβbut their gut told them that something was very wrong. They hadnβt been able to bring it upβyou didnβt mention things like that in front of other group members. But now they were alone, and they doubted anyone was going to show up within the next few minutes.
βYou know, Iβve been meaning to ask how youβre doing. Weβve both been through taking in new group members plenty of times, but it always takes some time to get used to. Is everything okay? No one is giving you too much trouble? Nothing I should know about?β Diomedes looked back to the food spread out on the table before them, tone casual. Checking in was something they did with everyone from time to time. Now wasnβt an unusual time for them to bring up the subject. Still, they felt worried that Apollo might notice something was off. They could hide their feelings from the new members without difficulty, but it was harder to maintain that air of mystery with someone they had known for so long.
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Post by Π²lue Π²lood on Jan 24, 2017 20:41:15 GMT -5
( yoo okay i finally got my butt into gear sorry this took such a freakin age hahaha )
Tisiphone / Indra Novaya / 29 yrs old / female / asexualextroverted -- brash -- cunning [ For someone so prideful about her appearance, Tisiphone takes the lack of choice when it comes to requiring a change of body with eager enthusiasm - though, as a newer member, it isn't something she is especially accustomed to yet. Nonetheless, she fully intends to do what needs doing and look good while doing it. This particular form stands at 5'7", most likely a couple of years above her true age, and is in lean, athletic form which provides her with some strength and stamina she still isn't entirely accustomed to possessing, nor is she especially dedicated to maintaining. Still, she's happy to reap the benefits for the time being. What started out as very long and luxurious hair, she has chopped up to above her shoulders in rather messy, light waves. The colour, however, she has maintained with meticulous devotion - a very light platinum blonde, almost more of an off-white shade, a little contrasting against her olive skin. She has sharp, wide-spaced eyes which are dark hazel in colour, a delicate nose with a rounded and slightly upturned tip, and thick lips with a flat upper line. A smattering of dark freckles cross a narrow stretch over her nose and under the eyes. A willing conformist to the fashion whims of the immortales, she messes with her appearance often, and has a slightly off-beat sense of fashion that may well come from actually trying too hard to keep up with it all - but she pulls off it largely because of the confidence with which she owns it. ]
[ Tisiphone is a self-assured and assertive woman, though tends to fall into the trap of the confidence - and naivety - commonly attributed to the newer members who haven't had their overconfidence checked just yet. In possession of a loud presence and a loud mouth, she's determined and often intense when focused on something - which makes her diligent to whatever task is at hand, but also impatient and often impulsive too, prone to over-simplifying matters. Her friends and connections are her number one asset, and she knows how to be charismatic and diplomatic - which makes it all the more irritating when she chooses not to be. She's ruled more by her emotions than she likes to think, and does get worked up in an argument, or if she feels she isn't being listened to. She's clearly not unused to a bit of acting and manipulation, and it can be difficult, without knowing her well, to tell what is genuine and what is fake. Indeed, she often comes off more like the immortales she has befriended, and those relationships have made her occasionally prone to more sympathy than is best had given Requiem's goals. Those not easily trusting may well question her loyalties, and with understandable reasoning - having a life on the side of the very thing they're fighting can make her seem detached from the rest. However, truly befriending her will gain you a loyal and hardworking mind, and it would be unwise to underestimate the value of a man on the inside. ]
[ Though Indra doesn't speak much of family, it has more to do with a lack of much to be said rather than any unwillingness to speak of them. Her parents are among the ranks of the immortales, and it's implied that there's a fair amount of wealth in the family, too, even by the standards of the immortales. One can gather that while she is still in contact with her parents, the life they believe her to have vs that which she lives are two very different things. She also makes reference to two brothers, though there's nothing to indicate any closeness between them. She speaks with a light Russian accent. ] [ Π²lΟ
e Π²lood ]
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2017 20:57:57 GMT -5
Apollo
The psyche chips had captured his attention in the moments where Diomedes was quiet, and he turned a singular one over and over in his hands, so gently and careful not to damage anything. They were beautiful. He hadn't worked with anything this pure for a long, long time. Damn. Mostly, he worked with older chips; these ones, he could tell just by looking, were of a much newer model. He set the chip delicately back in the box and closed it again, sighing softly. This could make experiments a little easier, he had to admit. He was quite excited to start work - but right, he was going to get breakfast. And coffee! Coffee caused him to jerk into motion and he blinked almost owlishly at the leader as he considered it.
"Oh, yes," he sounded vaguely irritated, now, "disgusting beige stuff with so much sugar that it's not even coffee anymore. On it."
Despite his anger over how pathetic his old friend was when it came to coffee, he moved automatically, grabbing two mugs and setting them aside before he focused on actually making the coffee itself. He needed a cigarette, too, but he'd probably have breakfast before doing that. He could wander down the tunnels and have a quick smoke break once he was full and caffeinated and content.
Once the coffee was brewed, he poured barely any into Diomedes' mug and filled his own, before moving to grab the cream and sugar. The rest of his leader's mug, of course, contained that cream and sugar; though he noted that they were out of both and threw them aside without much of a care. He used a teaspoon to stir the contents around until it was the light brown-beige colour, and then walked over to Diomedes with both mugs, setting the pale brown one in front of them and raising an eyebrow as he drained roughly two thirds of his coffee in a few gulps. It was his special talent. Drinking the strongest, sludgiest coffee, and actually appreciating it. Of course, he did adore expensive coffee - coffee brewed from beans rather than this instant stuff, but he could deal with it. They weren't immortales, no matter how much they tried to overthrown said beings. No matter how similar they became with their hijacked chips.
"Well-made psyche chips and good coffee," he nodded firmly, finishing his mug and pouring himself another already. Two mugs in a span of two minutes wasn't really unusual, for him. He was used to it. It was common for him to substitute food with coffee, because it was just easier to make. He wasn't a bad cook - no, actually, he was pretty good due to his upbringing - but he wasn't bothered to cook. He had no motivation for it. When Diomedes asked the question, he blinked owlishly at them before shrugging, his expression settling into a neutral one once again. "Ah, well. I don't actually care. Food is food and as long as it doesn't have shellfish or peanuts, I won't die from it."
Allergies, of course, to foods that the immortales only really ate. That was probably why this body was allergic to them. The more exposure, the worse it got, yada yada. They wouldn't have any of either, though, so he wasn't particularly concerned; it was just amusing to bring it up as often as possible, considering one of his favourite foods had been, surprise-surprise, prawn. This body was damning him in more ways than one.
You could just eat prawn and die. I wouldn't mind. You dying would solve all of my problems, said Arian in his head, tone bitter. Apollo's head jerked to the side slightly with some surprise and he swallowed thickly. He couldn't tell the other in his head to go away, not out loud and not without risking control. To the best of his ability, he ignored Arian, even as the voice got louder and louder and gave him a migraine. He nearly missed the leader's question on how he was doing.
Terribly. He was doing terribly. His psyche chip was glitched and he didn't want to admit it and Arian was loud and angry and shut up, Arian, he managed to say, without losing control. The clamour just rose, and he gritted his teeth and drained half of his coffee to try to ignore it. Despite how well he hid it, his breath came slightly quicker as he became more agitated, as he became more likely to explode because damn it, shut up, you are a terrible person and I can see why people hated you.
Wow. As if they don't hate you too.
They don't hate me. Diomedes doesn't hate me.
Tell me their real name!
I don't know it.
Real name!
You know mine. That's enough.
No. This is my body. Give me what I want.
Your sweet and gentle act isn't going to fool anyone if you decide to take over. Shut up, sit down, and stay out of it.
Behind the rim of his mug, he mouthed the words to give himself something to focus on. He then swallowed once Arian had settled and set the mug down in front of himself, pulling a stool over and sitting on it. His finger-tips brushed absently over the side of the box with the chips in, and he stared at it rather than at Diomedes.
"I'm fine," he said, "no-one's giving me any trouble. I don't think anyone's even looked in my direction, honestly."
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Post by floruit on Jan 25, 2017 23:52:56 GMT -5
[ it's all good, blue! i'll add her to the front page. also, sorry for the inactivity. school n mood teamed up to wreck me this week. ]
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 25, 2017 23:58:01 GMT -5
Dude bro, can I claim the Assassin? I'll send u a rp sample asap, but wanted to smack my claim unless someone else saunters in. Uh, I'll try to find an average starter of mines because they're wild. Anywhere from 11k to 700 words because I'm strong sometimes and weak other times.
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Post by floruit on Jan 26, 2017 0:00:37 GMT -5
absolutely! and oh man i relate to that. mostly i am weak (esp. recently bc boarding school routinely Wrecks me), but sometimes i'm just going and suddenly the starter has become a monster.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:03:39 GMT -5
omg tell me aboUT IT. I am weak most of the times mostly bc what the heck is the 5 hour, 4 hour, 6 hour sleep schedule I have?
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Post by floruit on Jan 26, 2017 0:16:41 GMT -5
sleep is for the weak. that's me. i'm the weak. i feel like an alive human person at about nine hours but i get consistently less than that bc i look at my eight thirty classes and i'm like... going to bed at 12:30 is totally reasonable. this is Fine.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:18:15 GMT -5
Bro, r u like Feather-something from the original forums? They went by Flo too. I was just curious xD Also this song reminds me of the rp:
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:20:27 GMT -5
sleep is for the weak. that's me. i'm the weak. i feel like an alive human person at about nine hours but i get consistently less than that bc i look at my eight thirty classes and i'm like... going to bed at 12:30 is totally reasonable. this is Fine. I am weak too, LMAO and I HAVE EIGHT THIRTY CLASSES TOO! Frick, I feel u so much. I wake up at 6 too, so I'm death when I go to bed at like 12 or past 12 I am sorry, I am so fricking chatty. I spam every thread ever. Ask Xander, he knows
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:26:32 GMT -5
Hades / Li Tianyu / 35 yrs old / male / homosexual calm -- brutal -- protective [ Tianyu isn't exactly too critical of his new body, to be fair, he quite likes it. It's Asian, which suits his origins. It's a little older than he is, but it helps, he supposes, with the intimidation factor. Tianyu's body has a mesomorph's frame and is quite fit. To boot, he stands at about 5'11", which in his opinion is pretty good considering that was taller than he ever was. Tianyu has a light tan complexion with dark brown monolid eyes and black medium-length hair that is slightly tousled with complimentary black stubble. The body, in addition, compared with his original body, is mostly free of scars - so it's a bit of a nice addition but also kind of a loss considering Tianyu views his scars as marking points in his life and reminders of his fights and kills. Though it certainly helps him fly under the radar, so he can't complain. Usually Tianyu wears dark jeans, black combat boots, a graphic t-shirt, black gloves, and one of his many leather jackets. Though of course, there is the rare occasion in which Tianyu might wear something like, god forbid, a suit. ] [ Tianyu isn't exactly how you would imagine an assassin to be like. Just, not exactly. Certainly, he has the self-discipline part mastered. He understands how to prioritize important matters above his needs and desires, and he understands that calmly analyzing a situation generally brings one further in life than rushing into a situation. He's calm, he's collected, and he's surprisingly - very organized. It's easy to think a man who kills people for a living is hard and rough and cruel and evil. And sometimes, that's exactly what Tianyu is. He's brutal, he's merciless, and he never hesitates. But he also has a softer side to him, one that he's not afraid of admitting to. He's protective of those in his team. Tianyu never had a family, the group - though they're all strangers, they're the closest thing he's ever had to a friend, so he'll take care of them. In addition, Tianyu's got quite a sense of humor and a bit of a biting sense of sarcasm when called for. He's also quite surprisingly philosophical, because after all, what is existence if you do not question why you exist? He's also really difficult to handle sometimes. He likes speaking in riddles sometimes and withholding information. He's prone to keeping secrets and having his own trump cards in the case he needs them. He's a survivor, and even if he loses everything - there's no doubt Tianyu will keep fighting, even if it means he's fighting for nothing. Because Tianyu is built in a brutal world, and henceforth - he knows nothing but how to fight. And fight he will. ] [ Tianyu never had a family. He was abandoned when he was young. He was adopted, though, by a very kind old woman. Or rather, a very opportunistic woman. He was taught, from a young age, to hate the Immortals. That his parents were probably ran out of money by them, too poor to even really care for their son - so they abandoned him. She was also a criminal, someone who taught him how to do a lot of, well, bad things. He was, to her, a protege rather than a son. She taught him many things, but one day she disappeared, and he was on his own. He's been fighting the Immortals ever since, and when the Requiem picked him up - he finally had a cause. He speaks both Chinese and English. ] [ β£ Xiahou Dun β£]
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Post by floruit on Jan 26, 2017 0:26:53 GMT -5
nope! i used to be the machine (with a sideways heart and fancy text) and i had an account before that, but i was a tiny baby then so we don't speak of it. the nickname flo just came from florence+the machine i think. i don't really use it elsewhere & it's pretty far from my real name. i found out like... three people use flo on the forums tho n i'm like OH WELL.
that's a good song and i support it. surprisingly enough, i don't think i made this rp with any specific songs in mind. i'm listening to an eclectic mix of music constantly, and most of my ideas tend to be loosely inspired by songs. this one i swiped the basic idea from a short story, though.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:27:01 GMT -5
is the age their current body's age or their real age?
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Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2017 0:28:34 GMT -5
h a d e s
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:29:23 GMT -5
nope! i used to be the machine (with a sideways heart and fancy text) and i had an account before that, but i was a tiny baby then so we don't speak of it. the nickname flo just came from florence+the machine i think. i don't really use it elsewhere & it's pretty far from my real name. i found out like... three people use flo on the forums tho n i'm like OH WELL. that's a good song and i support it. surprisingly enough, i don't think i made this rp with any specific songs in mind. i'm listening to an eclectic mix of music constantly, and most of my ideas tend to be loosely inspired by songs. this one i swiped the basic idea from a short story, though. Oh, I still recognize you! I remember the Machine. I fricking love FLorence and the Machine, they r a good Also I am glad u support the song And Xander, don't u question my edginess
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Post by floruit on Jan 26, 2017 0:30:56 GMT -5
i wake up at eight bc i live on campus and also bc i'm the Worst and i love slamming into trig one minute before the class begins. and chatty is fine! i tend to be Dead Silent on the forums because i am Constantly Screaming on skype, but i'm always down to yell.
age is their real age! current body's approximately age can go in the physical description.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:37:17 GMT -5
darn, sometimes I wished I dorm but commuting is cheaper so LMAO. and naisu, chatting is my hobby
OKie dokie I GOT IT BRO omg, "you, a homosexual," fav.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2017 0:38:31 GMT -5
you, a homosexual, is a quote from one of my characters dia smh
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jan 26, 2017 0:40:27 GMT -5
u lie
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Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2017 0:51:42 GMT -5
I SWEAR
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Post by floruit on Jan 26, 2017 0:56:19 GMT -5
my dorm is just. sad children and mold. it's not good. they keep promising us a new one but they won't stART BUILDING IT YET.
also yeah i can attest that is 100% jem's fault. it was at a really serious point in the rp but i still UTTERLY LOST IT when i read the post.
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