MaverickKane Interest Thread {No restriction - Rainbow writer}

[MaverickKane]

I will play with Lords, Ladies, and Liege. I don't care what your gender or orientation is. If we mesh well enough to make a nice story together, that is all that matters.

I will write my plots so they could accommodate any gender / most sexual orientations. I really don't have a preference. But I will always play masculine characters.

If you are interested in one of my ideas, please PM me with the title of the plot in the subject line.

• A partner who has read my O/O, understood and can abide by them
• A partner willing to communicate
• A partner who will contribute ideas and aid in building up the plots, stories, world.
• A partner who's main focus is not the sex. Though it is fun, I don't do it simply for the sake of it. It happens, when it happens, if it happens. Adult or mature role play does not always consist of such things.
• I prefer to use character sheets even in solo, so a partner who is okay with that is prefered.
• I tend to play more than one character in solos. Someone who can do the same and keep the story going and keep it interesting is prefered.

[MaverickKane]

Vampire

Bound in Magic & Blood - Looking for someone to help me finish building this and play opposite my character, Andrei Iulianus Dragomir. It doesn't matter, Male or Female. I am open to both. Open to suggestions of changes. Preferably need someone comfortable playing multiple side characters in which to make the story more realistic and multi-dimensional.

I loved her too much to tell her I was Immortal

I loved her too much to tell her I was Immortal...

These were the words ringing in his ears of years past, while the skies poured down tears from heaven, pinging off a black nylon umbrella, one black leather gloved hand, held above a head of auburn curls, tied back neatly with a leather thong braided a third of the way down. The collar of a burgundy and black trench coat popped up, laying close against its wearer’s neck, fastened at the front with a decorative brooch with an ancient clan emblem. 

Another gloved hand, that was free from holding the umbrella, glided softly against the marble crypt that stood out among all other graves on the site. It was massive and well looked after. It stood up to the test of time. Water splashed, falling off the side with leaves that had long fallen and begun to discolor, to decay. 

What was it someone said? Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Who? Brilliant green/hazel eyes stared blankly at nothing, lips moving and yet, no words came out. Decompartmentalizing. “Ah, Tennyson.” Perhaps. To be honest, he could not be certain. He could not have imagined his life without her; however, she was gone. She had been gone for some time, though he could not be certain how long it had been as time was relative for one such as him. Still, he made it back to this place every year, on the same day, at the same time, rain or shine. It was not to mourn the dead but to remember the living moments, the good times. Thus, there was a small smile to soften a usually firm façade, until a voice came from behind.

“We need to talk.”

“Not today.”

There was a heavy sigh from the figure behind. 

“Now m’ Laird.” 

There was a tension that was felt physically by the male in the Burgandy and black trench coat. He rolled his shoulders before turning sharply, those hazel eyes narrowed sharply on the other. Did this one truly have a wish to dance with the devil? Disturbing him on this day of all days was forbidden. A terrible scratching noise echoed in the silence of the cemetery as his gloved hand came away from the crypt. The glove was fitted with steel finger tips sharp enough to slice into the delicacy of skin and tendon. 

“Alright,” he began with a bite in the word. “Ye have my attention.” Oh yes, they had his attention and his wrath if what they had to say was a squandering of his time. He was not known for his patience any day. This day especially. After all, it was but once in a year that he came here, to be left in peace with the few good memories that he had. His wife laid not a foot away from him, the only one his heart had ever softened for. No one had ever before, had known him the way that she had and not since. 

“ Let’s have it then, with haste.”

The other was nervous. He could smell it, taste the foul shame of it. 

“There is someone, a woman who says she will speak with naught but you. She calls herself Davina Baillie and that you would know her.”

Suspiciously, the Laird eyed the other up and down.

“That...is impossible.” 

“I-I know Laird, but it is what she says.”

One long finger pointed back to the crypt.

“Lady Davina Baillie rests there!”

Still, there was no hesitation. His feet were moving. He was going to get to the bottom of this at once. Whomever this imposter was, would pay dearly. The umbrella was tossed aside as he came through the entrance to the ancient keep, which had been rebuilt over many centuries and modernized with the changing times. 

“Where is she?!” He growled like a demon on the prowl. The veins in his temples were protruding, angry. His Tartan kilt swished, and his boots thudded against the ground. Aye, he was on the warpath like never before. If this lass knew what was good for her, she would be out a back door before he reached her location. She would be lucky if all he did was throw her out on her filthy lying arse.

[MaverickKane]

Hold (Was writing out an idea and realized it doesn't belong in this section. LOL.