Writing

Pigeon's RP blog

June 21, 2010 - 9:13pm — dietywolf

An RP blog for my character Pigeon. I'm sure Pigeon has a lot of potential in roleplay and as a character, but is dreadfully boring to play in the forest when there is no one to interact with in forest. So here, I would like to have Pigeon develop good or bad relationships with others, anyone can join in, and i'm serious when I say this! So please feel free~

PIGEON

A few notes:
-Please actually know some things about the character before rping with it, all you have to do is give the bio a look
-Don't expect a whole lot of heavy, emotional, or particularly interesting rp with Pigeon, As there will be no dialogue with words, only actions.
-if you are still on the fence if you want to rp with Pigeon, I recommend you read this to learn a little more...then make your decision

RP Sample:
(taken from a short rp on Pigeon's bio, with Sonata's char friend) =)
The creature tilted it's head at an odd angle, orange eyes staring at the smaller one. It's head suddenly snapped back into position and locked it's view up at the leafy canopy, a few soft trills escaped it's throat. Pigeon blinked a few more times at Friend again before lowering it's body to lay upon the dusty earth not even looking at the little one now as it gazed into empty space.

Writing

How much would you pay...

June 21, 2010 - 2:55pm — kovah

for someone to draw or paint your character?

I'm just curious, I'm trying to get little commissions on some of the sites I frequent and I've not had much luck. I don't know whether the prices I'm charging are too high or people just don't like my style. Here are some examples and prices: http://fav.me/d2rilsg

Thoughts? Feelings?

Writing

Father - 1 - Desertion

June 21, 2010 - 1:53pm — Freyja

Part 2 - Lost

[i]Where are we going?...

....

Somewhere I know that you'll never be found

Hah. I found you, and that was easy.

That was different. Now, you'll never be able to find your way back.

And explain how you'll do that?

You'll discover, in due time.

......

Halt.

Where are- how? HOW? WH-why are we here? You don't plan to kill me by pushing me off a cliff now, do you? Th-think, of her.

Be quiet boy....of course I wouldn't do that. Shut u-

You...think you can dispose of me? Like this?

Quite simply, yes. I just had to....think. Differently.

.......

You do realise I could of stopped following you long ago, and just turned around?

You could try, but look behind you.

........

H-how?

Like I said. Don't bother trying to guilt-trip me, boy; your mother is gone.

She's here.

But not for you....

Pah. Pathetic, you are....what are you going to do with me, hmm? You could kill me, but then what? Just admit it; you've lost yourself in this godforsaken place. Perhaps you, mentally, lead me here.

You understand now.

So now what will YOU do? Perhaps I shall wear your skin and antlers around my neck to warm me if this desert is so cold at night. If there is a night out here....

I'm starting again...

Impossible.

[=12]Maybe some day, you will realise the faults you have made. And maybe....someone else is out here.

Writing

vy poni'maete?

June 21, 2010 - 7:14am — Sonata

"ya ne poni`mayu..."

The stag turns an ear.

Because he honestly does not understand.

Writing

[Sequence 1] - Nightmare

June 20, 2010 - 6:18pm — Haru

Cloud lay among the silent stones of the ruins in his favorite patch of flowers. The wind gently stroked the petals of the flowers and the leaves of the trees overhead. Soft sounds of birds and the distant calls of the other deer floated on the breeze. It was a normal, quiet day.
Yet, the gray buck was oblivious. His world was foggy and disjointed with lethargy. How long had it been? Two days? Three? Regardless of the passing of time, sleepless nights were catching up with him. He hardly noticed the activity around him or heard the sounds of the forest or even felt the brush of the breeze on his back.
Cloud’s eyelids finally began to droop unwillingly and he gave in to the call of sleep, even though sleep would only bring the nightmares that he had come to know…and to fear.
~~
Cloud stood at the edge of a precipice. Everything around him was dark and he could see nothing beyond the rock he stood upon. There was no breeze, there was no sound. He was completely alone.
Cloud peered over the edge; a pebble came loose and tumbled down, down, down into the darkness until it was lost from his sight. He wondered for just a moment what lay down there in the all consuming blackness. He wondered if he should jump whether he would plummet to his death or, perhaps, he would land harmlessly. Maybe he would, like the pebble, be swallowed up by the darkness and lost forever.
“Jump and find out,” Unseen voices whispered.
Cloud tilted his head, “Jump?”
“What harm could it do?” The poisonous voices hissed, “Jump.”
The gray buck considered the whispers. He eyed the yawning pit before him. What harm could [i]it do?
Cloud took a step forward and jumped.
Down, down through the darkness he fell. Much too fast, much too far.

Writing

The Story of (Faith) Bartleby and Jergens - Part Eight

June 19, 2010 - 11:44pm — GingerNut

Chapter Eight – Remorse and Redemption

The young woman crept in, her bare feet silently pressing against the tile floor. The stag had known of her presence for a while now, but chose not to speak of it. Jergens was oblivious, although he had never been observant to begin with, and mentally fretting over his boss didn’t help any. The woman snuck up to him, bent over, and leapt up onto his back.

“Tag! Yer it!” she screamed, encircling her arms around him. Jergens hollered in surprise and sprang away from her, much to her disappointment. “Who the Hell are you?!” he gasped, putting a hand to his chest. The woman cocked her head and looked down at Bartleby, who was breathing quite nicely now. “Humm… He sleeps so much…” she grabbed his arm and wiggled it back and forth. “Faaaiiith… wake up…” she mumbled, too softly for Jergens to hear. The stag cleared his throat and spoke. “Lady Bartleby, please don’t do that.” He muttered in masked annoyance.

Nippers stood and turned to the stag. “Oh! Hello-…” Jergens saw that her eyes flicked up to the pictogram floating atop the stag’s head for a few moments, as if regarding it. She continued, “…Do you know why Faith is sleeping so much?” she smiled sweetly. The stag glared at her silently, a sign that she was not wanted. After a few moments Nippers seemed to get the idea. Reluctantly, she left, politely closing that door behind her, leaving an irked stag and a confused (but amused) young man.

After a little while, the stag spoke again. “You have questions.” It wasn’t a question; it was just a passing comment, as casual as remarking on the weather. Jergens’s head was swimming with questions, and he was grateful for the opportunity to have them answered. “Who was that just now?” he asked the stag.

Writing

Monochrome Rainbow.

June 19, 2010 - 10:18am — Sonata

A hand shifts up, moves glasses, settled once again.
The warm smell of coffee filled the air, soft sweet scent of pastries, and the chime of classical music.
Twenty two years old, and working on earning his bachelor's degree in college.
Not bad.

He adjusted his glasses again, flipping a page in the large textbook that lay in front of him, long white hair tied back into a ponytail, soft grey-purple streaks running through the crisp whiteness of it all.
His eyes were a soft grey as well, with the smallest amount of purple flicked through them

His ears were pierced surprisingly heavily for someone who otherwise seemed like the type who would be a very straight edge.
The other strange thing, were the butterflies.
One, sharp black, spotted gently in bright purple, tattooed upon his cheek.

Writing

The Story of (Faith) Bartleby and Jergens - Part Seven

June 18, 2010 - 4:42pm — GingerNut

Chapter Seven – Hated and Hampered

Bartleby’s hand was still bleeding. Jergens, being the understanding and kind gentleman that he was, shrugged and hoisted Bartleby onto his back.

“Wha… What are you doing?! Unhand me!” Bartleby struggled against him his kidnapper casually ran down the halls at a casual pace of casualness. “Hell no, man. Besides, you think I want to carry you? Yer freaking blood is leaving a stain on my shirt.” Jergens didn’t even know where the ‘infirmary’ was. Hell, he didn’t even know WHAT an ‘infirmary’ was. He hoped he was going in the right direction, but knowing his own luck, he probably wasn’t.

After a while Bartleby, growing a bit faint from blood loss, lightly tapped Jergens’s shoulder. “Do you even know where you’re going?” he almost whispered. “The infirmary is well behind us now; you see the plaques on the walls, don’t you?” Jergens turned around without a word and doubled back, noticing that there were indeed little sheets of metal on the wall with unrecognizable scribbles on them. Jergens guessed that these were probably words telling one where to go to get to somewhere… or something like that. Hell, he didn’t know.

After a bit more of running and pushing away bewildered servants, Bartleby tapped his shoulder again, this time barely moving. “You passed it again…” he managed to mumble out. “You can’t read… can you? I should have known…” he faltered and fell limp against Jergens. The red-headed youth promptly began to panic and took a random turn into another hallway.

It wasn’t very well lit, and the whole area seemed to be giving off some bad vibes. At least to Jergens it was. Unlike the rest of the estate, it didn’t look like anyone maintained it. He saw that there was a large door at the very end of it all, and he walked towards it, exhausted from carrying the extra weight of Bartleby around. His hands were supporting both of Bartleby’s legs, so knocking was out of the question.

Writing

How she longs to be one

June 18, 2010 - 1:20pm — Sonata

Head dropped down; observe the moon in the water, she reached a paw outwards, touched it, watched it ripple, something she could never have.

Quietly she rose to her paws, dragging herself through the forest, no one took notice, it didn't matter, she would snap if anyone asked if she wasn't feeling well.

Writing

Angels on the Moon

June 17, 2010 - 12:51am — quadraptor

"Do you dream that the world will know your name?"

"There were things that made us wonder who we really were.", the doe spoke. The wind blew past the green feathers that grew from her head. "There were times that we thought we'd give up. But we looked to each other and carried on."

She lowered her head, catching the scent from the blue flowers that grew where she sat. Her body sat peacefully, the blue and white fur caressing the grass as she shifted slightly.

"There were times we wondered why we were here, what our purpose was. We've questioned many times, and more times than not none of us ever got an answer."

She smirked a little, "Well...tonight, I was given one."

The doe looked back up. "They asked me, 'Do you dream that the world will know your name?', and I answered, 'The world may never know the name Zephyr and I will still love it.' They asked, 'Do you care about all the little things or anything at all?', and I replied, 'Not as much as I care about those who have big things in their life."

Her eyes lifted to the sky, "They asked, 'Do you believe in the day that you were born?'. I laughed and said, 'I live, don't I?' They smiled and then asked, 'Well then, do you know that every day is the first of the rest of your life?' I looked to them, and said the words they wanted to hear me say:

'Don't tell me if I'm dying, because I don't want to know. If I can't see the Sun, then maybe I should go. Don't wake me because I'm dreaming of angels on the Moon, where everyone you know never leaves too soon.'"

She smiled, her eyes staring at the Moon. "We'll go there one day, when the Earth doesn't need us anymore. Until then, we are here to live and love the world. It doesn't mean we're not angels yet...after all, the Twin Gods created us all perfectly."

Writing