-Intro/The Rules-
Here you can interact with Jeremiah~
I've been seeing a few of these blog floating around, and I thought I'd make one up for myself. I'm a pretty avid RPer, so something like this is absolutly perfect! Please, please make yourselves at home with just a few tiny guidelines...
1. No one-liners please!
2. Please PLEASE be coherent in your responses!
3. Don't be afraid to take the story in your own hands or do drastic things or the wot. They move it along, make it interesting<3
4. If you're feeling your muse flicker away, then just end it. c: I won't be offended.
5. You are more than welcome to use art! However, I'm not an artist... So I won't be able to draw you something in return.
5. Come up with your own intro, if you wish. You don't have to use these
And above all; don't stress about the length! As long as you have a nice amount of information to work with, then you shouldn't stress! (of course you can't really accomplish this in an one-liner)
So with that said, please jump in! Don't be shy! I'm such an rp-lover that I can just write about anything right now~
GoGoGo!
-The Deer-
For the classic sort to enjoy
To him, the seemingly random patches of lilacs made his predicament quite worth it. Such a plethora of beautiful, butterfly laden flora could not possibly be ignored! The fawn had not lived for very long in this forest, but he had already made his presence known to the small world in which he had been born. He had made a habit of running about, casting dashing ringlets of flowers upon the heads of deer and fawns alike. Such activities lightened his spirits, if only a little.
He sits along the tiny bed of poppies encircling the Crying Idol, his sharp, venom filled hooves neatly tucked under his gently rotund stomach. The brunt orange and gold of his pelt contrasts with the crimson of the flowers, a perfect combination of complimenting hues. On his head is a modest wreath of them, obscuring the protruding points of new antlers on the top of his skull.
Though despite his developing masculinity, he is very much, in fact, not a male at all.
Depending on how adept you are at identifying genders, you may or may not notice. And even then, does such a minute detail really matter?
He looks lonely. After all, it is not in his nature to be on his own. Perhaps you should ease his worries and approach.
Don't worry. He doesn't bite
but he does sting.
-The Human-
For those who wish for a break from the common cervine
There is a bench, a bench in whatever town you wish to envision.
On this bench sits a man, staring out into the busy street with a stoic expression, neither happy nor sad. He's a stick-thin sort, a young fellow in his early twenties trying to make a name for himself. His hair is a fair ginger, tapered at the shoulders to frame his childishly round face. he wears a pair of thickly round glasses, magnifying his eyes to an absurd degree
He looks nervous, and raises a deeply tanned hand to twirl a lock of hair, biting his lower lip.
Care to speak to an aspiring beekeeper?
But they do sting
Just not out of spite
Oh wow, this is so pretty and
I'll throw Mustard at you if that's alright c: she looks like this.
---
The bitter chill of winter had hit the forest in a burst of cold weather, causing all the features of a snowy day, but without the beautiful white blankets to accompany it. She did not like the cold, with cold brought discomfort, because for some strange reason, her body did not like her, and decided that shedding the bright plumage of feathers and making her thinner would somehow help the situation.
She had been wondering the forest for a little while, disgruntled expression upon an olive face, eyes the shade of pumpkin darting one way and then the other, turquoise eyebrows knitted together. behind her, small feathering and the bright long tresses that once made up a trail behind her fell away with the slightest of breezes, or everytime she made a sharp turn. Mustard as she came to be known for the dull yellow of her fawn pelt had begun mumbling to herself, noticing that now patches of royal blue had gone; revealing the deep autumn tones beneath it. Hoping that maybe sitting would quell her pelt from shedding any further, she looked for somewhere to rest and that was when she stumbled upon an odd fawn, hidden in the safety of the crying idol. With a grunt she approached, careful, wondering where the creature's mother was; though she knew herself from experience, that not all fawns of the forest were granted parents.
"Hello." Mustard murmured, though it was barely audible as she seated her awkward not-fawn yet not-doe body next to the much smaller. "You cold?"
ffff
---
The fawn hadn't even noticed her at first. His eyes had been squinted shut, with his own assumption that the gesture would prevent his eyeballs from freezing away. However, the brightly plumaged adolescent wasn't exactly hard to miss, especially when she sat down beside him. With a small squawk of surprise, he leapt to his hooves and jumped in front of her, extending a grateful (albiet shivering) bow. "G-Good day missus... yes... quite chilled to the bone, yoo could say." he greeted, his teeth clattering and stuttering his words.
His voice was... interesting... to say the least. A gentle contralto and a light tenor all rolled into one. It was an ambigious sort of tone, protraying no sort of gender in either direction. Either way, it was most certainly not the voice of a child, but of a young sort of adult. Trembling, the plumpish child re-claimed his warmed spot. "Bloody weather... is it always like this with fall? Too cold for its own good?" he chattered pessimistically, shooting a bitter glare up to the sky before turning back to her. "Surely it gets better, right?" he asked, willing for her answer to be an affirmative.
"M'Jeremiah... or Jerry... wotever yoo want." he introduced, a calm, faux smile spread up his muzzle. Most stay positive... positive...
He could feel her body heat radiating from her thin form, and Jeremiah had a small urge to shuffle over and press his body against hers. After all, she looked just as miserable and discontent as he did. "Yoo cold too?" he asked, wondering if that was a silly question to ask. Of course she was, stupid! Look at her! Brightly colored, positively beautiful, yes... but not built for winter. And here Jeremiah sat, a little fawn with a modestly thick coat of both fur and blubber.
Still... fall carried a strongly negative emotional connotation with the fawn. Whether or not he was uncomfortable didn't really matter, it was all this sadness and death that really got to him...
Pfft, thankyouthankyou
----
She'd been surprised when he'd leapt upward, sun drenched skin of her lips pulled together, watching. Orange irises appeared wide in their cases of white; though that was how they always looked. Mustard nodded slowly in agreement, trying to work out what the little creature was about, because he certainly seemed older beyond his years, not a little ball of immaturity like most that she had the pleasure of running into. Eventually she'd rememebered to move, turqoise ears flicking back and forth, listening."Chilly." The doe agreed.
Her neck turned towards him, thin and swan like as she looked the fawn over, slowly moving closer to press feather and fur into Jeremiah's, though the bright shades of royal blues and silvery whites came away, like soft fish scales onto the child. "I'm not sure, this is my first winter too." Mustard stated truthfully, though her voice was quiet, like a loud whisper; soft and warm.
"Jere'" She repeated, quieter, allowing the words to roll from her oddly coloured mouth. The doe nodded at that, remnants of a once-great plumage curled around the tiny thing, trying to warm him. "Mustard, like the flower." And the smell; the peacock doe reeked of the bright lemon coloured flowers, earning her the name.
"Relax..." The adolscent tutted, eyebrow pushed downward, lips taut again. "I won't hurt you y'know."
♥ --- First winter?
---
First winter? Jeremiah blinked, tilting his head to the left with an expression of confusion. Just how does the growth cycle of a deer work? The fawn didn't know. Four or so days ago he would have been hard-pressed to even associate an illustration to accompany the name. He was a beekeeper, after all! Not a petty hunter. What he knew of the cervine species was little to nothing, and it especially showed now.
"Ah... pardon Missus... I thought you were older..." he mumbled thoughtlessly. Even as he said the comment he knew how rude it was, and the fawn leapt to his sharp hooves once more. "Uh... th-that is to say I don't think yer old or anythin'! No Missus, not at all!" he stammered, hotly embarrassed. For a split second, his controlled octave broke, only to be steered right back on course.
Of course he would have only bid such an apology to someone older than he, and the lady no less! How frightfully rude! Despicable... what had his parents taught him? His father would hang his head in shame for that.
He huffed, twitching an ear at the sound of her name. "Missus Mustard?" he repeated, the lips on his muzzle curling into a nostalgic smile. "Oh! Like the sauce, I see..." he nodded, flinching slightly as he felt warm feathers brush against his soft pelt.
Still, he forced himself to loosen up and follow the deer's single order. "Oh, I know yoo wouldn't Missus Mustard..." he smiled, though it was more of a plastic sort. "See, a lot of deer here don't really pay much mind to kids, y'know? Unless they happen to be theirs... kinda sad..." he mused, neither encouraging nor discouraging her gesture.
A bit short as I'm about to
----
She seemed to perk up instantly at his comment, ears sitting proud atop her head, mix of fur and feathers against her neck lifting, puffing up like how a male would throw out his chest, make himself appear bigger. The doe turned her chin inward of her swan-like neck, hooves tucked beneath her. "You did?" Mustard questioned, ignoring or perhaps not noticing the apparent fear upon the poor child's face. She was smiling, because no one had thought her as older before, did she really look like a full grown?
Eventually however she'd relaxed herself again, beak-like mask still balanced upon her androgynous face, keeping out the bitter chill. "I know that." She snorted, as if poor Jeremiah had outrightly called her dimwitted; an idiot.
"I was your size once too; where are you from?"
G'night! --- This doe was
---
This doe was confusing. Then again, most women to Jeremiah were confusing. Not that he didn't like them or anything. He just never 'got' them. Not that he was sexist or any of the like, oh no! Actually, the reaction made him a lot happier than what he expected, and he quickly fell into the role she intended. "Mhm..." he nodded simply, not quite sure how else to respond. "Though yoo still look young for yer age, Missus Mustard, in a good, mature way..." he assured her. It wasn't a lie either.
Jeremiah recoiled away at her response, bowing his head in submission. "Course' Missus... M'sorry." he mumbled, looking up only when she asked him a direct question, his expression brightening ever so slightly. "Yoo mean, from before all this? I... M'from Andover, in Hamington... Y'know, Britain?" he murmured, his smile wide and hopeful. "Yoo mean that everyone here used to be a person? Were yoo? Where are yoo from?" he asked, rattling off his questions with eager intrigue.
She'd given a bright chime of
"Some don't remember, some come here after death, whilst others are born into this...place." The bright creature stated, head pulled upward toward the ever darkening sky, before it had settled on Jeremiah again. "I don't know what a Hamington is." Mustard laughed, louder that time, before she'd shifted to get comfortable. The place I come from isn't unlike this one, though it was always hot, and we lived in herds. Females would take priority over the males; our diety was a woman, and so it was believed that we held a part of her in all of us, and why she gave us beautiful feathers in the summer, whilst they would remain dull and colourless." Mustard explained, then faced the smaller again, before she'd pulled it away to drape over the fawn's legs, like an affectionate dog.
"What about you?"
The fawn breathed a sigh of
He listened to her explanation with increasing interest, staring up at her with bright, childishly innocent eyes. Even if Jeremiah was technically an adult, he still carried that same subdued naivety that all fawns seemed to have, not matter how mature. "But why?" he asked simply, inclinining his head forward to rest upon the dying flowers.
Mustard's description of her own homeland only confused the fawn, who frankly just wanted to know whether or not she was human. It didn't seem so, what with her mention of 'herds'. Whatever the case, what a positively barbaric culture! Not that Jeremiah minded any. If anything else, he wanted to know more. He wouldn't prod the doe further though, instead preferring to eye her feathers with a new sense of envy. "So I wouldn't have any of those pretty ones yoo have, right?" he mumbled, more to himself than to her, as if to reassure himself.
"It's a little village... Not many people ever really knew about it all that much." Jeremiah explained in turn. After all, it was only fair to share a little bit about himself. "It was kinda half n' half, cold n' hot... Um... we lived in..." he paused, thinking of how to word it all. The fawn had to admit that he had never really been that word-smart. "A bunch of little groups of people... all of them have different jobs. Like, for example, I raised bees." he smiled nostalgically. "And... we have a God too... don't really know much about him though..." he murmured, shrugging nonchalantly.
[ Tracking this 8D; I'd love
Oh thank you so much! c':