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Author Topic: Aly's Roleplay Desires (Female Currently Seeking Male Characters)  (Read 975 times)

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Offline AlyMoniTopic starter

  • The Stereotypical Latina
  • Lady
  • Orgiest
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  • Join Date: May 2012
  • Location: Within the darkest recesses of your mind, plucking at your heartstrings.
  • Gender: Female
  • Pain is a uniquely personal experience.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
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- - - -

"The name's Aly! I like long walks on the beach, collecting Pukka shells, and staring into th-"
Oh, was that the wrong post? ...Well, damn it...

Take two!

Hiya! The name's Aly and I've a lot of years of writing beneath my belt. Though I can't say a plethora of it has been spent within the roleplay universe, I've done play writing, and have published works so I'm no stranger to painting a scene. With that said, here is a little bit of everything that I'm searching for. If, by the end of this you're still with me, feel free to send me a PM (do not reply here) and we can further plot an idea that I've listed or discuss one that I may not have but you think would be a good fit!

- - - -

Writing Style:
    As seen from the writing samples I've supplied below, I tend to err on the side of detailed. That's not to say that the level of detail that I put in doesn't fluctuate as it's wholly dependent on what I'm provided; As a generalization, though, I like to paint a picture with words. I like a certain level of...feeling to be derived when someone's read my work, that they can smell, taste, feel, see and hear what's going on in the words I've posted.

    Now, I don't ask that those I write with match exactly what I post or how I post. On the contrary, I'm a heavy believer of quality over quantity. However, there is a fine line between a small morsel of wonderful writing that is crafted to evoke some feeling from the reader...and a one liner that was thrown together in haste to get to other replies. I will be extremely hard-pressed to write back to a one-liner if I’ve left you a multiple paragraph reply with a plethora that you could have reacted to.

    Another point here would be typos and grammar. I don’t expect you to be perfect as I’m far from it; We’re human, and are bound to make mistakes. But, if your post reads like my Facebook feed, filled with common errors that could have been avoided had you taken that split second to look it over, or use spell-check...Lets just say, Aly will have left the building and fled to the furthest corners of the Antarctic. I don’t ask for too terribly much, but please be mindful of that one point, if nothing else.

    I write in third person, and would prefer if my partner did as well. Something about first person has always felt off with me, and has to be done in such a way that it reads correctly, organic, not forced. If you want to write in first person with me, we could attempt it? I make no promises on this front.

Timing and Availability:
    I work from home at the moment while working toward Broadway and Performance aspirations, so I’m always on my laptop and you’ll generally see me poking about even while doing the aforementioned work (I’m on EST). Now, even though I work from home, my posting can be anywhere from multiple times a day to a few times a week, to once every couple of weeks. It’s not that I’m not interested in the roleplay that we’re doing, but more that real life has taken a hold of me and my muse is being finicky.

    What may happen is you may or may not see me posting to other roleplays that I have, while not replying to yours. Please do not take this as a slight on my part. I’m an upfront, brutally honest personality and will tell you when my attentions have shifted and I’ve lost interest in what it was we set out to write. It just means that, at that particular moment, I was feeling more inspired for that thread in question.

    Much like the cravings for food and drink, this could shift in the span of a heartbeat.

    If you choose to write with me, please be blessed with the virtue of patience. I know better than most that real life can hit you like a ton of bricks and take you away from what you’d rather be doing, and won’t press for replies no matter how antsy I am for what we’re doing. With that said, I’d appreciate the same courtesy. A question here or there about the roleplay if I’ve not yet replied is fine, but to continually message me will result in frustration and a lack of want to write for you.

    With that as a segue, I think this one is pretty self explanatory. If you’re having a hard time, are unsure of what I’ve written, or just need to talk about something, talk to me. Don’t hold off and hope that the feeling passes. I would much prefer to know in the moment than to wonder if I’ve done something wrong as you vanish off the face of the earth.

    If you think I could use some constructive criticism about the post, or just want to talk about the thread in general, talk to me! I promise I’m not some conniving bitch, and would be happy to plot, discuss, or just chat. Those I write with I consider friends unless otherwise specified (and some do specify they’d prefer a professional sort of writing relationship, which I don’t press further), so if you want to chat, go for it. Write me a message on the forum, via email, really any means I’ve listed or have given you.

    More than anything, I want for this to work. There are a lot of “ifs” that could be covered, but my hope is this was enough to convey that I really just want to talk with you, get to know you, and write a kickass story that will fulfill both of our needs and wants.

Roleplay Versus Reality:
    We all know that some of us (myself, included) form attachments to the characters we create and the stories we write. I’ll be the first to admit that I will be on the edge of my seat when thoroughly invested, and have even teared up when reading a post because I felt so bad for the character(s) in question.

    There is a limit, however. I don’t want someone to become so attached that they take it to the level some fans do with television shows. I am not the character; The character is not me. If we write together, we need to make sure that line isn’t crossed.

    Please don’t take this as an assumption that you reading this will do the same, but it has happened in the past, so much so that I feel this note is needed.

- - - -

Plot and Development:
    What I crave above all else is a driving force propelling our characters forward. I want to feel what they feel, see what they see. I want to know what makes these characters tick and watch them grow into something more. I want to see them forge connections with those around them, see them tested, see how they react, see how they take charge.

    In short, I want someone who is willing to work with me on something more than a quick pairing assortment. I don’t want to plan everything out, as we all know even the best laid plans can take other turns and you have to think on your feet. This just means that I’d like to think things through a bit more at the onset, and whatever loose plans we’re working toward could happen, though nothing is guaranteed.

Organic Feel:
    I don’t like things to be forced, and planned so much that it may as well be a novel you’re writing solo. I want things to be roleplayed “from the hip”, characters reacting as they would react normally, not reacting in a way that you want them to because you want something specific to happen.

    So, if you write with me, please expect this. We can plan until we’re blue in the face, but if it’s not going that way for one reason or another, I will not force it. We’d have to find another way for what was originally spoken about, or come up with another turn entirely, which could end up working even better in the end.

    I’m an adult, and a writer. I don’t shy away from writing such scenarios (though I should hope that was anticipated, given the site), but I also don’t want them to be the sole focus of the roleplay. I don’t set out to forge specific sexual relations with a character, and want it to happen as it would have had these people been real. I want it to flow naturally (referring back to the two points above this).

    Also, if it comes to violence, you can be certain I’ll write it to the fullest. However, violence for the sake of violence is just distasteful to me, and will leave me bored. Please keep this in mind.

    I’m all for a good romance story, and won’t pretend otherwise. But, I don’t like that to be the sole focus of a roleplay. In my experience, it tends to get stagnant and ends up withering up and dying.When I write, I want stories that will stand the test of time and continue to grow into something more, something that will continue to hold my interest while keeping my partner engaged (and those who may be following). If you’ve an idea that is centered around it, you can still pitch it to me; It’ll just be a harder sell.

    I’ll admit the bulk of what I write is fantasy-based. Supernatural beings, magic, extraordinary circumstance, and I’m perfectly at home! It’s not the only genre that I’ll write, but it’s the one you’ll see most-frequent when looking over my work across other sites or work of a professional variety.

    That said, I will readily write any of the following genres as well (though it's not limited to these):
    • Historical (whether it be Medieval, Victorian, Roman, Roaring Twenties, etc. Where I like history, I don’t have much issue keeping things to the more traditional side, and keeping it realistic)
    • Action and Adventure
    • Realistic roleplays (want something more down to Earth, like an everyday sort of occurrence? I can do that)
    • Futuristic (I won’t say I can do straight Sci-Fi, as I don’t consider myself knowledgeable enough about the potential material, but being set in a future time, I’m alright with.)
    • Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian, Alternate Universe/Dimension (Self explanatory, though my muse is picky with themes of this nature)

- - - -

"In sleep, he sang to me...In dreams, he came..." - Phantom of the Opera-inspired (Light NC/Bon, M/F, Canon or Original)
A timeless story of seduction, of innocence lost and a woman giving in to those dark urges at another's behest.

I'd like to explore this story, but take it to that next level. In the story, they talk of how he's been inserting himself into her life for years, but you don't see too much of the seduction itself. I'd like to write that story. I want to see the steps one would take to break down a proper girl, a girl devoid of family who now spends her time practicing her ballet, her dance, working to better herself vocally. I want to explore these sessions, this slow-building seduction that eventually breaks her down and causes her to give in, to explore that side meant for a husband, for one's true love. I want to see what measures were taken and how successful those attempts were, how they progressed.

What I specifically seek is someone to play the male role. This could be a canon, or it could be someone of your own creation. Other specifics are up for discussion.

"A Lesson Learned; A Love Kindled" - Meeting Joe Black-Inspired (M/F, Kinks to be Determined)
Death takes interest in a woman.

I feel the idea is pretty self-explanatory, but for those who don't know the movie: Bill Parrish, media tycoon, loving father and still a human being, is about to celebrate his 65th birthday. One morning, he is contacted by the Inevitable - by hallucination, as he thinks. Later, Death itself enters his home and his life, personified in a man's body: Joe Black has arrived. His intention was to take Bill with him, but accidentally, Joe's former host and Bills beautiful daughter Susan have already met. Joe begins to develop certain interest in life on earth as well as in Susan, who has no clue who she's flirting with.

Now, the specifics of this idea can be fleshed out. Whether death is after her specifically, not her father, is a direction that this can go in. Or, we could keep the father and play up the original plot itself, working with the awkwardness that is Death and his lack of understanding on how Earth really works. I want this to be a story that builds, something that he could be awkward with initially and have failed attempts to get anywhere, but once it's there...sparks fly. There will be complications as we could deviate and take it into more "reaper" territory, "Where he's not collected whom he was after, another is sent in his stead to complete the job," or something to that effect.

Specific details are up for discussion.

"Sacrifice" - (M/F, Kinks to be Determined)
There have been human sacrifices bimonthly, with a bigger sacrifice done once a year. The people have gone along with it for a while, doing what needed to be done to keep the gods appeased. But...there was a prophesy that, with the coming of a girl, born under the covered sun on the second day of seventh month (something specific) and on her twenty-first year, that she'd be the sacrifice to end all sacrifices. With her blood spilled, the people would be given a gift, their faith and devotion would be rewarded.

And, due to her birthday, it's thought that the princess would be that sacrifice. Even her family was of that opinion, and groomed her to do her duty early on. But...not everyone was of that opinion, that her death should be something solidified as fact. Maybe the servant that she's grown up with, is friends with, is one of those that's not of the opinion? As the time draws closer for the sacrifice, their people become restless.

...She doesn't show up. Maybe a friend (a servant she's grown close to over the years) has convinced her to steal away, to go into hiding, and they take refuge in a neighboring kingdom? Or, perhaps a neighboring prince has stepped in for his own gains and ends up shifting sides to keep her safe and convince the people they've the wrong person?

On the flip side of that, perhaps she wasn't aware that she was the rumored savior, the sacrifice to end all sacrifices. Maybe that part was kept from her, her family keeping her in seclusion for the majority of her life, so the event that was coming was of surprise to her, the first she's hearing of it from that friend or that prince, before being secreted away.

The time that this takes place (along with region) are up for discussion, as well as the gods in question (though I do have a list I've come up with while brainstorming that I'd be happy to share.

"Frozen Heart Set Aflame" - (M/F, Kinks to be Determined)
I've got a love of Frozen, and its plot. If you take a look at my provided samples, you'll even see I've an ice-wielding character that I've written (that was created pre-Frozen, but I digress). I'd love to see a take on this where the focus isn't on Anna, but on Elsa instead. Perhaps the suitors that have attempted to get a hold of her, to take her hand are what we explore? Maybe someone who can offset her powers (the classic fire and ice combo), that has had the same struggles as she, but perhaps has a better hold of it? There would be that hesitation to talk, to be around them for any given amount of time as she's taken to being alone more often than not, but once she sees that he's been struggling with this just as she has, and that they've a common ground...

The directions that this can go are numerous, whether it be a romantic plotline, or one of more nefarious undertones.

"Everything For A Price" - (M/F, Romance, Light, Kinks to be Determined)
Quote from: Violelia
As part of a joke, her friends put her details up craigslist (or something like that), offering to sell her services for a very ridiculously high price, one which no one in their right mind would pay for. A price none of them thought anyone would try to even match, as it was after all, a joke.

So it was pretty surprising when a rich playboy suddenly approached her, asking about her ad. Someone who has no problems whatsoever going along with her impossibly high price. She had originally planned to say no, but with him being able to pay every single number she randomly threw, it has got her thinking. In addition, his good looks was a plus.

Being a poor university student that was behind thousands of dollars in her debts, a little bit of money can't hurt, right?

This story is meant to be lighthearted. She isn't a call girl and wouldn't suddenly drop trou because someone's come to match the exorbitant prices and claims that have been made for her services. This is meant to build, to explore the give and take as he asks for things, even as simple as a hug or a kiss, and she throws outrageous prices he's willing to match without issue. Where it goes, it's up to you, but I'm definitely looking for more of a romance element with this one. If it happens to explore kinks that he's asking for...we can discuss those possibilities.

Credit to Violelia for the idea.

"The Great Gatsby" Inspired - Kinks, to be Determined
Now, I've not entirely thought this idea out, so bear with me:

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a love of Gatsby, of the times the story lies within and all things to do with it. As such, I've had a desire to do a thread around this idea--a favorite book of mine--but have often had the quandary of whether or not to hold true to the storyline...or set it merely in the time. It could be what happened after, or surrounding a pair that were within the world, around Gatsby, Nick, Daisy, but without being the mains until we thrust them into the spotlight. Could even add a supernatural theme if we felt so inclined...Possibilities are endless, Old Sport!

- - - -

Sticking to the Storyline:

For those unaware of the original story, here is the briefest of synopses, one that doesn't truly do the story justice (for a more in-depth version, please see this link):

"Nick Carraway, an upstanding young man from the Midwest, moves to New York to seek his fortune in the bond business. He rents a cottage on Long Island, next to a mansion occupied by a man of mysterious origins but manifest wealth: Jay Gatsby, known far and wide for his extravagant parties. Gradually, we learn that Gatsby was born into poverty, and that everything he has acquired—­fortune, mansion, entire persona—is designed to attract the attention of his first love: the beautiful Daisy, by chance Nick’s cousin. Daisy loved Gatsby but married Tom Buchanan, who is fabulously wealthy, fabulously unpleasant, and conducting an affair with a married working-class woman named Myrtle. Thanks to Nick, Gatsby and Daisy reunite, but she ultimately balks at the prospect of leaving Tom and, barreling back home in Gatsby’s car, kills Myrtle in a hit-and-run. Her husband, believing that Gatsby was both the driver and Myrtle’s lover, tracks him to his mansion and shoots him. Finis, give or take some final reflections from Nick."

Now, we could keep to the original plot and focus on the love-near-quadrilateral we've got going between Jay-Daisy-Tom-Myrtle. We could focus on Jay and Daisy with Tom as more of the NPC. We could change it up and have it be a play on TGG, but change up the roles. What if Jay truly did come from wealth, but was taken away by the war as he was originally, only to come back and find that his Daisy had been won-over by a penniless pantywaist, Tom, who held no claim to fame. Tom couldn't take care of Daisy like Jay knew he could, and his obsession grew, trying to win her over with the baubles that, in the original story, Daisy needed to affirm her life.

I don't know, I'm rambling at this point, but I'm certain you get the idea of the possibilities with this particular aspect.

- - - -

Another route it could go:

Onward and upward!

If we went in a direction where it was only focused on the times, I've toyed with the notion of having a woman who, for all intents and purposes, looks the part of a wealthy flapper girl. She seems to have not a care in the world, is at all the happening parties, and nothing is known but her name and her looks; not her origins nor where she lives, nor how she's come into such wealth.'s all a front. In reality, she's a seamstress that, while working on the clothes of the clients her family's business provides, she's become familiar with the fashions, the designers. She's been creating near-undetectable fraudulent copies of these dresses with her own flair and has acquired a collection of costumed jewelry.

From there, this idea could go several different directions. Perhaps there's a man, a thief, who makes his living off of going to these large parties, traveling wherever the rich go. He could be the sort to "woo" the women, getting their attentions and steal away into their homes after a night of gallivanting to steal what he's found valuable...He could attempt this, if brazen and the target is thoroughly liquored, while at the parties themselves. What if he's found one target who, while she plays the part, is as penniless as he. While trying to rob her, she instead catches him, and works out a deal. It could go Bonnie and Clyde rather fast, but more calculated, less public and in-your-face.

Perhaps, she catches the attention of a man of wealth and is now forced to keep up the act, to come up with lie after lie to account for where she's gotten such baubles, such outfits. Therein could be the dilemma, much like Gatsby had with Daisy until he came clean and she ended up with her husband. How far would she be willing to take the charade and would the man stick around despite her lack of reputation and wealth.

"Fifty Shades of Grey" - (Cliche, but a want. Specific kinks to be determined)
This is exactly as the title suggests. While some have been wholly against the series, I found the parts of it I liked and have found myself with the urge to write it. I want someone to have that level of need, of desire for my character. I want him to be unable to stay away and to bend his own rules to get her. I want the struggle as the two personalities clash, as my character tries to get what he's unable to give. I want this to be a mutual give and take, filled with drama, passion...I want to do Fifty Shades of Grey right. It doesn't have to keep precisely to the series, but I want the essence to remain the same.

Please, if you've any ideas, feel free to message me and we can discuss them!

"The Vampire Diaries" - (Kinks to be determined)
I want this to be that love triangle from hell. Torn between two people, loving one and hating the other, only to then love that which she hated; The line between love and hate is fine, after all...almost too fine. We can discuss which supernatural creatures come into play, but I'd love the vampires, and we could even bring a werewolf element in, should you wish. Witches as side characters...perhaps even a hybrid like Klaus. The specifics are to be determined by us!

- - - -

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Her stomach twisted in knots, the sound of a breath against her neck and the hiss of some reply she couldn't decipher filling her ears almost as loud as her own heartbeat. It was at that moment that she turned to the one thing she'd always shirked, the one thing her father always faulted her for; That initial last hope, that last glimmer of a chance to survive.

A higher power perhaps?

Though, even as the thought slid through her mind, she didn't know any real prayers, nothing outside one of the books she used to read. It should count...right? Ever wondered, her eyes drifting slowly closed as she exhaled a shaky breath. How did it start? She wasn't sure it mattered, that it'd help, but if her mother had been right about religion, about someone's immortal soul...then maybe, just maybe, this verse she'd seen would help with that.

Now I lay me down to sleep...

She felt it then, that bite. It didn't hurt for the first moment, his cool lips acting as a sort of numbing sensation. But with each drag, each pull of her blood slipping free of her body and into his, it burned a little brighter. Ached a bit stronger. Each suckle of his lips dug his fangs a bit deeper in, her breath growing shorter as she sought to keep the panic from overwhelming her.

So this...this is what it feels like...

...I pray the lord my soul to keep...

The thought had been a random one, slipped in almost the same time as the next part of her prayer, her heart's beating quickening as it tried to spread the lessening blood to her limbs. In all the books she'd read, and the few movies she'd seen, she'd always wondered what it'd feel like to be bitten, to be drunk from. But this...this wasn't as she thought it'd be. It hurt more, ached more, each breath hurting more than the last as her muscles tried to work despite the deprivation they were now met with.

If I should die...before I...wake...

Yet, the longer it happened, the more tired she grew, the ache becoming more of a dull white noise accompanied by a sluggish inner monologue. The hand that had found its way to his, once seeking to pull it free of her mouth, was instead halfheartedly clinging, her grip growing weaker and weaker as a darkness set in.

I pray....

To her, it was to better her ability to stand, to hold herself up, not to lean so completely into him as she drew her last breaths. Subconsciously, it was a desire to cling to the life she'd not yet lived, to cling to all the things she'd lose upon her death, and to, somehow, impart something...some silent hope...something to save herself. To keep herself alive, despite the darkness closing in around her mind.


By this time, she was again, detached, viewing the scene from above, watching her body letting go as did her consciousness. Her hand slipped free of his as her knees began to buckle. Her head lulled into his touch as her skin grew more taut. Somewhere, she swore she heard the distinct sound of "Lacrimosa" drifting on the wind, as though to mock her where she stood, dying, in the arms of a monster.

At that time, all manner of consciousness slipped, her feeble grasp of it, severing as her mind plunged into an inescapable darkness. She was too tired to fight it, to continue to fight after what felt like an eternity in his embrace. There was no drive, no will, no strength to begin to stave off death's chilly embrace as all went quiet.


For a split second, her heart pumping erratically, she swore she saw her life flash before her eyes. The life she could have lived, should have lived, and didn't. All the things she could have done and the people she could have connected with...Only to be replaced with its sad reality, all ending with Wolf's steely eyes holding hers, the last thing she'd ever see, the last though she'd ever feel in the form of his lips on her neck, of his hands holding her up.

A distorted, lonely reality brought to an end in the arms of a stranger. An all consuming darkness wrapped her in its cold embrace, her mind quieting, all sound echoing as it took longer to register, everything eventually going unnoticed as she drew what she thought would be her last breath.


- - - -

When someone dies, what happens? Does their soul release into whatever afterlife they believe in? Does it walk the earth, doomed to repeat its last moments, an imprint of its death? Do they simply cease to exist, their bodies decaying beneath feet of dirt, until no semblance of them remains, their name disappearing from the lips of those who knew them, their memory fading as fast as their body decays?

For Ever, death was relatively painless.

While her heart had sputtered to a grinding halt, the worst of it she'd been unconscious for. She'd been spared the agony of trying to breathe when all you want to do is sleep, when your mind is telling you to let go, but your heart is trying to do what it's programmed to. She'd died, her heart crawling to a stop, her breaths stopping with it, body lifeless to the unsuspecting onlooker.

In a perfect world, her soul would have gone somewhere else, would have left Harper Rock behind, would have silenced its worries and enjoyed what she knew to be eternity. In her life, she'd been uncertain if Heaven or Hell existed, her father saying that, if a higher power existed, his job wouldn't be needed; That praying to some "unseen asshole" wouldn't save you from getting taken out by shrapnel, and dying on the spot. He'd told her to make her own luck, to be vigilant and headstrong. To live.

...Her luck took a turn for the worst that night, and she died...

...And heard Presto Agitato?

It was the sound of tinkling ivories--more aptly compared to skilled pounding, than tinkling--that caught her attention first. At some point, it seemed her body had remembered to breathe, the silent breaths confusing her. I'm...I'm alive? she wondered to herself, thoughts clearer than they'd been prior to what she last remembered. It...It was all a dream?

Though she didn't move, body still as the grave, a feeling of relief, something resembling some sick perversion of gratitude, washed over her. He spared me! I didn't die! I can't beli- Her thought cut off as a thought dawned on her, an eclipsing thought that took any happiness she'd previously held a moment ago, and taking away its life. ...My...My heart's...It's not...

It was ludicrous, insane, her mind instantly trying to push away such crazy thoughts. No, relax. Breathe, Ever. Focus on it. It's got to be there. You're thinking aren't you? You're just not focused, she cautioned herself. Focus. So, she focused, the sound of the piano's music filling her ears quieting as her mind shut it out, seeking out the one sound she'd never hear from herself again. She lay there for what felt like ages, listening to nothing but a thick silence where her erratic and panicked heartbeat should have been.

It can't be...

About then, her focus was shattered, screaming inside her own head, not even wanting to try and move. This must be purgatory! came an instant thought, anguish in her mental voice. I've died and gone straight to some hell! No sight! No sound! No movement! No not-!

Yet again, her thoughts stopped, though this time it was attributed to a sort of mental slap she gave herself as the silence she'd grown used to got more weighted, the hairs on her arms and neck standing up as she felt someone's eyes on her. Movement hit her next, feeling whoever it was getting closer, their steps, though quiet, pounding like drums in her ears. Anything she'd have tried to think of, in that moment, was muted, too focused on the presence moving closer to her, settling somewhere eerily close, and then the feel of icy fingers touching down on her cheek again.

The touch was familiar, one of the last moments she'd recalled prior...followed by a voice.

He knows? Ever thought, trying to pull herself together enough to test her limbs, to pull free of the veil of confusion she was currently hopelessly entangled in. How does he know I can hear him? This doesn't make...any...sense.

Unlike the thoughts before it, this one didn't halt suddenly, cut off abruptly to be replaced with more silence and frantic speculation. Instead, it ended, simply, quietly, curtly, as something that Marius had said came through. How he'd died. How he'd turned.

A finger twitched then, trying to keep her thoughts calm the longer she thought through them, almost wanting to say this was all a dream; A hopelessly intoxicated dream that she'd soon wake up from. Vaguely, she tried to remember how much liquor she'd actually had, another finger twitching as she tried to "follow his voice". Eyelids fluttering a bit next, they were slow to open, heavy, burning as though she were trying to force herself to awaken from a sleep that was gripping a little tighter than usual. Parting just a hair before blinking once more, her vision remained blurry, so she tried to blink them again, her head shaking the smallest bit side to side as though it'd help clear the cobwebs, as though it'd help make her vision clear.

His eyes.

That was what she first noticed when things were no longer blurry, no longer hazy, as though someone's lens focus needed to be tweaked. The piercing blue eyes she'd seen, that she'd felt boring into her soul before the fateful bite, were on her again, though...somewhere different. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, to figure out, but her throat seemed to be burning, a burn she was only just beginning to notice the longer she let herself ween back into reality.

Or was it a dream?

"N-New...eyes...?" she questioned, a shaky hand reaching up to her forehead, trying to sooth an ache--a force of habit while human--before inevitably falling to her neck. "...You...I'm a...?" The words refused to finish coming out, her voice even sounding different to her and catching her off guard, but she figured the sentiment would be known, would be felt, would be understood.


Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Her fear was palpable, more vividly tasted in night air than the blood would be, running over his tongue, once he bit into her. He'd not made a move, nothing to alert her to his position, yet she was already scared. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up, her breathing shallow and quick as her eyes jumped here and there, waiting for the inevitable to strike.

A quiet sigh loosed as he kept tabs on his target, noting how there'd be no challenge in it, no real work needed to trap her and take her. Had it not been ideal, had he not needed to feed, he'd probably have let her slip through his grasp without so much as a hiss and light nip.

Marius had only just arrived in Storybrooke, his winding path having led him to the sleepy town filled with the stench of dog and the beating hearts of new victims. Yet, he was only there for one, for her. It promised to be a fun game, his shadow having arrived there just in time to intercept her, but that didn't matter. It always ended the same:




As his new conquest stumbled, he was on her, hand catching at her own before her body hit the ground. A smile playing at his lips as his claws elongated, poking lightly into her soft skin, just as his soft laugh echoed through the alley. "You should be more careful..." he chided, humor in his tone, along with overtones of a dangerous intent. "You never know what may be lurking in the shadows..."

Her eyes looked back at him in surprise, momentarily taken aback, but almost happy that someone had been there to catch her. "You're right, I suppose," came her breathless reply, seemingly too distracted to notice the bits of blood smoothing out over her wrist from his hold. "I don't know what came over m-"

"I do," Marius cut off, his eyes flashing a deeper red before they mellowed out. "You're feeling scared, completely off you wander aimlessly through this dark the wrong side of town, not really remembering exactly where you were headed...But knowing you'd give anything to be there at this moment...rather than here with me..." His voice was drawn out, deliberate, calm and steady, despite something lingering in the depths of his deep, blood-red eyes.

Her own brown eyes widened as taking in his expression, his words, becoming suddenly aware of the claws pricking into her. She wanted to yank her hand back, to scream for help, but she couldn't. The realization that it was all too late, that there was no escape, hit her like a ton of bricks as her heart skipped a beat, her breathing hitching. Tears welled up in her eyes, her lower lip quivered, and a nervous head-shake took hold of her body. The softest of sounds came across her lips, the knowing terror in her eyes unable to be shaken.


So simple a word, "please". Had he not been so hungry, he may have let her go, may have let her return to the dull life she led. Letting her go back to that would be a travesty, a crime in its own right that he wasn't so willing to commit.

"I can't let you go now, love. We're only just getting to know each other!" His words had turned somehow happy, an almost child-like enthusiasm dripping from them.

"N-No, I don't want t-"

"Now now, you'll hurt my feelings!" he replied with a flippant wave of his hand, face frowning before his grip tightened on her wrist. "We wouldn't want to upset me..." Though she whimpered in response, she didn't fight him on it, the pain shooting up her arm incentive enough. "Now, I want you to stand there, tilt your head to the left, and not move when I bite you."

"What?!" she exclaimed, immediately shaking her head emphatically. "Why would I do that?!"

"Because the more you struggle, the more I'll get the urge to hurt you, make your passing painful...You do so look ravishing in this moonlight...fear heavy in your eyes...If that's your wish however..."

A strangled sob erupted from her throat, quickly squelched as a hand reached up, covering her lips as she bit back the remaining sob. Tears falling down her cheeks, her breathing erratic, she nodded, leaning her head to the left as her eyes drifted closed, not wanting to watch, to see anything as he bit down.

A smile grew on his lips as she complied; a smile that couldn't have been smacked off of him for the world. The hand gripping so tightly on her wrist loosened, smoothing over her arms as he shifted more behind her, the other hand mimicking the movement on her other arm. The touch was fleeting, light, an air-like caress as his chest brushed lightly against her back. A slight chuckle slipped forth as he took in her silent tears, a thumb reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. "Keep that up, and I may not be able to control myself..." Another strangled sob broke through the quiet of the night, a delightful soundtrack to his movements. His head lowered, hot breath grazing over the supple skin at the nape of her neck. Lips brushing softly over the area, a mere ghost of what was to come, accompanying his words. "Just stay calm...Quiet...We wouldn't want to attract unnecessary attention..."

And then his lips opened, fangs piercing her skin as her blood ran hot across his tongue.

The sound he made, a cross between a growl and a moan, couldn't have been smothered if he'd wanted it to be. As he'd known it would, the fear adding an almost fruit-like taste to her already sweet blood. She'd tensed, the muscles having contracted as he tore into her, and the pain she felt causing her to silent tears to increase.

He could feel it.

He could feel everything.

The bond he'd only just wrought with her coming into fruition, her pain echoed on his body as he continued to drink.

It was almost too tempting, this new pain, to rip her apart, take from her what he would eventually claim in its entirety. But he refrained, using what little restraint he harbored to draw it out as much as he could bear. Her heart had begun to slow, her body growing weaker and weaker with each drag of his lips at her neck. It couldn't take what was happening, the fear causing it to pump faster, but with each pump, it forced out that vital liquid and threw itself into a panic.

At that last moment, before her consciousness left completely and she passed from this world to the next, he stopped. Cradling her in his arms, he turned her around, his hand cupping the side of her cheek as his eyes bore into hers. "Keep your eyes open...I want to watch the life drain from them in these final moments. I want to see your passing, relish in it, take that moment from you and use it as a momento."

Too tired to fight it, she blinked blearily at him, his hand leaving her face to bring up her injured wrist to his lips, biting hard into it and suckling the sweet liquid as his eyes remained locked on hers. Her mind had clearly already begun its descent into darkness, a sort of subconscious knowledge of what was happening taking hold as she watched him.

Another sip and her eyes were glazing over.

Yet another, and they were slowly growing duller.

On the last haul off of her delicate wrist, her body gave out. Eyes rolling back, body collapsing, and he let it. Falling into a crumpled heap, he released her wrist, watching it fall with a satisfying crack against the ground, the dead drop confirming what he already knew. Kneeling over her, he used a finger to open one of her eyes, letting out a sigh of contentment as his mind memorized the way her eyes had become so void of life, void of anything life had once afforded them. "So...beautiful..." he murmured, getting up and nudging her body off to the side into some brush, tongue flicking out over his lips to collect any excess he may have missed.

"You won't be missed," Marius told her lifeless form. "But you will always be remembered, and revered as a satisfying conquest, I can promise you that."

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Part I


Luminescent, the falling light of the moon cast an eerie glow over all left uncovered. Trees took on the iridescent glow, leaves shivering in the breeze that tore through their limbs. Light playing off the water so far below the cliff's edge, everything looked harsher, yet softer all the same. While the moon's glow seemed to show everything for what it was, emanation hitting each jagged edge of the broken cliff side, illuminating each wave as it crashed against the hard wall of rock, it seemed almost delicate. Almost as if falling wouldn't hurt, wouldn't kill any dreaded soul that happened to take a tumble, but rather that the light would envelop them, that each wave would just wrap them in a soft blanket of darkness, and they'd peacefully float off into oblivion.

A poetic way to die.

No sound could be heard above the crashing waves below, reverberating off the trees that scattered the cliff's line, the rustle of leaves and uncut grass waving lazily in the breeze. A light fog drifting through, any movement, apart from the shadows thrown haphazardly by the moon's spectral glow, was dampened, hidden. One didn't have to be seen should they not wish it, their very presence remaining unknown to the eye. Not that they cared if they were seen, but it was always nice to have that air of mystery, the ability to be hidden should they wish it.

Stepping from within the tree line, form staying close to the rough bark of the tree behind her, Chrystal's eyes scanned for her sisters, her coven. Frame standing at no taller than five-foot-six, she was easily concealed by the thick fog, the shadows the trees cast hiding her own easily.

They'd always met here, centuries of history housed within the stretches of the land, the water line hundreds of feet below. Something about a cliff's edge, the beauty of what could easily become impending death added to the sacred air of the place. While she'd never really thought it a big deal, it wasn't her place to comment, so she'd always held her comments within her burdened mind.

It was finally time.

Time for her to meet the rest of the members of the coven.

A mixture of nervous excitement flitted within her, a sort of jitter inhabiting her body as she stood there, arms clasping hold of herself to contain it. Meeting sisters meant she'd have a family to call her own. Granted, it wouldn't be a family by normal standards, but it'd be more than she'd ever had prior to this moment.

Living as a loner for most of her life, it hadn't been by choice, but by necessity. As it was hard to explain away the happenings that surrounded her growing up, she ran away. Better to be alone than to hurt those I care for, she'd always reasoned.

A solitary life with no risk.

Alone from the age of ten, she'd taught herself to hone her skill, her craft. It was a long process, arduous, riddled with errors, but she'd prevailed. Slowly taking a hold on her appearance, what was once a bright-eyed, chubby cheeked, curly-haired brunette, had shifted. No longer did curly locks of the darkest brunette lay claim to her features but instead a resplendent blonde, almost white, now resided. Her once green eyes, full of life and the envy of those who lay their sights upon them, now held the lightest blue, icy in illusion. Even her skin, once sun-kissed and warm, appeared ethereal, alabaster tones.

While Chrystal wasn't sure when all these changes had taken place, most who saw her would chalk it up to puberty, assuming such changes happened as she matured. It was far more...Far more than anyone on the outside would know, would want to know. Using her craft as much as she did, becoming one with her power, it was changing her. Her form was becoming so accustom to the cool, the ice, that the changes were inevitable. She was cooler to the touch, skin smooth...somehow soft yet oddly firm.

The small flickering of a fire appeared a few feet in front of her, small in stature, sprung up in the midst of the cool light. Hood concealing her own looks, she kept her head lowered, eyes watching the display from her perch against the trunk. Flame growing before her eyes, the vibrant red hair of her sister was illuminated, along with her warm skin, her golden eyes. A small smile pulling at her own lips, Chrystal made her way toward her, watching in her usual awe, of the control she had over her flame. Dancing on the tip of her finger, the flame jumped, swaying in the breeze, but didn't flicker out. Not once did the heavy winds coming off the sea snuff out its life.

With a small grin, she pursed her lips, blowing softly at her finger, icy crystals dancing in the air as they wrapped around her sister's finger, choking the life out of the flame until it finally subsided. A light, melodic laugh was loosed, her hood dropping back as a mirth flashed behind her eyes. "It's good to see you, Annelise," came her warm greeting, arms enveloping Annelise in a hug. Arms embracing her, Chrystal felt the usual goosebumps taking hold of her skin, a shiver wracking through her body at the proximity of their bodies. Something about fire and ice together always held such a reaction, from both parties, evoking knowing smiles betwixt the two. Pulling back, her eyes scanned around them, trying to see through the fog. "Where are the rest?"

A small shrug and half-grin later, and Annelise was staring her down, eyes lit from within in a sort of dangerous mischief. "They're here. They're always here." This brought a slight perplexed frown to Chrystal's face, wondering how she could have missed them, but she didn't voice it. "There's been a slight snag..."

Brow furrowing, her eyes turned suspicious. "What do you mean, a snag?" Her tone, turning just as icy as her gaze had, her body went rigid, preparing for the worst.

"Oh relax," Annelise retorted, brushing off her reaction with a flippant wave of her hand. "It's nothing like that. Just some minor details have been shifted is all." Chrys could feel her body relaxing a bit as she heard the words, but something lingered in the back of her mind, urging her to stay alert. "Something simple really. The coven would prefer to stay anonymous...That is, until you've completed your task."

"Task?" she repeated, not understanding. "I've done all they've asked. I've proven my power, proven what I'm capable of. I've passed every test you've ever given me...What else haven't I done?"

"Such a tone...doesn't bode well with us.” Something about Annelise was changing, becoming more official, fuller sounding...As if she weren't the only one talking. But just like that, it was gone, and she was back, back to her usual alto, tone light. “That being said, we understand your confusion and welcome it. It's not that you've not done enough, but this final task solidifies your place among us. It's essential to your survival within our coven. Without it, you can never be."

One final task... Chrystal thought to herself fervently. Just one...and I'll have a family....I'll do anything...

"It's simple enough," she continued, eyeing her, gauging her reactions to each piece she said. "You must first find a man, pure in heart and in mind, willing to do anything. You'll know him when you see him, one of the rare few that still survive within this world of carnal urges. Seduce him."

Pausing for almost dramatic effect, Annelise's eyes left Chrystal for the first time since the exchange began, turning to lock with each unseen member. Chrystal's gaze shifted as well, trying to sift through the fog, to see who she was at the mercy of, to see those that did this task before her. To see if it were worth it.

"Once you seduce him, thoroughly besotted,  you must return him here. As the sacrifice, he will remain here for three days, being primped and preened for the final event. As the moon is in its apex, you must stop his heart, feel the dark side's pull in this act, and return from it unscathed. Take his life force into yourself, feel it fill you, feel it drain him. The rest is arbitrary."

Feeling the gaze of a few others boring into her, she tried to process the news as calmly as she could. Sacrifices she'd done, though never of the human variety. A bird here, a frog there...It'd always seemed essential to gain connection for the more draining rituals they'd asked of her. But this? She wasn't sure if she could handle it. To take someone so innocent, so pure, and use them for this? Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, eyes flicking to the ground as her hands played nervously, clasping and unclasping, under her cloak. So loud was her heartbeat, she almost missed the pointed throat-clearing directed at her.

"Do you understand the task set to you?"

Eyes raising to lock with Annelise's, she nodded, lips set in a thin line, all humor her face had once held, fallen away a mere memory.

"Are you able to complete this task? Able to become a member of our coven?"

The pause was a weighted one, one that seemed to drag on as her mind tossed around her options. Inner war was waging, her heart torn, her mind conflicted, until one thought rang through amidst the chaos, so clear and true. I can't say no, not after all that I've done to get here, to this moment...I can do this. I can do anything for my family... Slow to nod this time around, the motion was just as drawn out as her thoughts had been, the weight of the world sitting on her shoulders.

"You've a month and a half to find him, seduce him, bring him here and complete the ritual," came Annelise's rather matter-of-fact tone of voice. "I'll be keeping tabs on your progress. Don't disappoint us."

And just like that, she was gone.

In the blink of an eye, Annelise was gone. The fog had vanished. She was alone with nothing but the beating of her heart and the light of the moon to keep her company as she tried to strengthen her resolve.

I can do this...This is what I want...

- - - -

"Spoils of War" - with GrapeTootsiePop
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
The battle had been fought long and hard...but eventually they had succeeded. Just barely. Now, their once beautiful country was broke and they had no money to aide them. There was no food, no finances to back them...a battle that had been uncalled for had ruined them. They would have to leave their once prosperous place. Or did they? A man came to them, the Ambassador of a neighboring country and offered to help them. Asked for a private audience with the Queen.

His demands were simple: He would give her access to all of the finances that she would need to repair their broken home...and he had control over her. She did as he commanded. Did as he requested. Did whatever he wanted from her. In exchange for the safety and the protection of her people...she would become his slave.

Now I left this fairly open because he could ask this of the Queen or the Princess. He could be the one who had a hand at the other country being the one to go to war with them previously. This could be dark and twisted where she truly does make her his slave. Or it could turn into a sweet story where they fall in love, she was just too hidden behind her duties and her rules to give them a chance.

"A Life Saving Roadtrip" - with Violelia
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
The two had an unspoken rule between them. Just one single rule. They will never fall in love with one another. Growing up, the two were the closest of friends, they were inseparable, nothing could come between the two of them. There was nothing the two could not share with each other, their problems, their secrets, whatever were on their mind. They were always there for one another, throughout harsher times or pleasant days. From breakups to plotting ways for getting their crushes to like them back.

What they had was a relationship that had transcended beyond the bond normal friends share, yet instead of  turning into love, they simply continued growing that relationship. Imagine leveling up your Pokemon but not wanting to evolve it, constantly pressing that B button whenever you gain a level, yet knowing that the day you did not, all you had done so far would had been for vain. You'll not get back that cute little monster you originally had.

It was the same for them, and though both had the thoughts of "what ifs," neither of them took that one daring leap which would change the way both of them really felt. Maybe it was fear, anxiety, or maybe they both just weren't single at the same time.

Till one single day, when one of them decided that he/she had enough. That he/she would make the most selfish decision of them all, to entertain the most selfish thought imaginable.
« Last Edit: August 17, 2014, 01:23:07 PM by AlyMoni »