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Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Ara on January 24, 2018, 10:24:48 am »
Grayson managed to film all of it. His favorite part was the bit where a king whimpered and agreed to favor another throne. He hugged his phone to his heart and pressed back into the shadows when Phellar walked by. He’d never loved that wild king more than right then. He slid his phone into his jacket and left the dark halls, the world in his pocket. And he knew exactly what his horrible recording was going to buy him. This party was finally turning up.


Idella laughed lightly when Luna assured him they weren’t making trades for his throne behind his back. He hadn’t really suspected it but her reassurance wouldn’t exactly be worth anything if he had. Jasmine had never shown itself to be interested in backstabbing or deception, but he wouldn’t be a good king if he trusted them overly much. He did notice how Almi blushed and looked away when Luna mentioned the Rose princess being welcome in the Jasmine gardens.

His eyebrow lifted in interest when she suggested they meet.

Almi flushed, eyes widening when she realized she might be overhearing something she wasn’t meant to. She immediately looked away, busying herself with talking to someone else on her other side about the pledges and if there were enough refreshments circulating to appease the hungry crowd of teens.

Idella nodded once to Luna. If he was inclined to believe anyone capable of “good faith this-and-that” it’d be Luna. “Of course. And if you find yourself too busy by the end of tonight,” his gaze slipped to Almi on the girl’s other side. “we can always meet in the morning. My ear is yours.”

A cry came from close by and his attention swung. Almi gasped, hands flying to her mouth when a young guard collapse to the floor before a dozen more launched themselves at Hadron. Almi looked around, as if to find Phellar and plead or maybe even command him to do something about his knight, but he was no where to be seen.

Idella’s chest knotted with emotion when he saw Hadron. It was like loving a shark, that boy. He couldn’t tame him, couldn’t keep him, couldn’t even be near him. He’d never scorned him for leaving them, not even for Phellar. They’d opened something awful inside of him and that awful needed room. Idella couldn’t let it run free in Hyacinth, so how could he complain when it found another place to run?

The part of him that was more knight than king, wished he could have ran with him, just to give him the company while he ravaged the world.

“Most are soft when times are good, Hadron,” Idella said, staring hard at the other boy as he pummeled his head into everyone around him. That floor was fast turning red. Great. At this rate, not one of his house would come home unmaimed from this night. He almost smiled then, wistful and nostalgic.


Gloria smiled just a little for Ebelt, exposing the shades of softest pink along the seam of her lips. “I would be lying if I ever said you did not entertain.” Her smile grew just a little more when he continued to suggest she duel Wicker. Tonight, she just might win if she did. But it would come with a reputation she didn’t really want. She wasn’t looking to sword play with the knights or callous her hands.

She laughed softly when he brought Alios into the mix. “Oh dear, that would be quite conniving of me, don’t you think? To bait her like that? And what would I do if Alios accepted? Surely he’d ruin my dress and you know how easily I bruise.” Her smile pushed into the corner of her mouth then, suggestive in the slightest of ways, recalling times when they had touched rather than exchanged the rare word.

Her eyes grew and head turned when the ruckus of Hadron broke the room again. She let out a sigh, turning to stand at his side, hand touching his arm as if she needed an anchor from the madness of their guests. “Good lord, you’d think Hyacinth and Chrysanthemum were wild animals…”


Wicker regretting pulling on her jacket almost as soon as it was settled on her narrow shoulders. Was it warm in here or was it her? Her cheeks were pink, but most would blame that on the liquor or the duel. An uproar swung her attention to the side, back toward Idella. Her vision blurred for a moment. Fuck, had she had that much to drink already?

Vinnia latched onto her hands, trying to keep her from the inevitable. “They can handle it. Whatever it is.”

Wicker’s vision had focused on the dogpile of knights. A face, bloody, smashed into others with a nightmarish grin. She moved closer without thinking, Vinnia still clinging to her hand. “For once you might be wrong,” she said with a small laugh, a breath really, before squeezing and then shaking off that soft hand. Wicker wasn’t meant for soft things.

She ran that last distance, ducking low to come at his side and launching herself into him. Her arms curled around his chest, dragging him to the floor once more, violence hiding a hug before they collided with marble floor.

While most without a lover in the fray had lost interest, a rose knight lingered along the edges, watching Wicker, fingers inside his jacket, feeling the edge of a knife there. Jewl had imagined putting it in her before. They’d talked about it. Planned for it. But, looking for his opportunity, his heart raced with excitement more acute than anything he’d ever felt before. His gaze flickered once to the side, to see Gloria standing with Ebelt, smiling coldly. Would her smile be real when Wicker fell? Would it be for him?

Half a dozen other knights and guards grabbed at Hadron again, throwing punches and latching onto limbs. “I was wondering when you’d say hello,” Wicker managed out, breath a little more labored than she expected. She was ontop of him for a what felt like a second, riding him like a wild horse with her fingers knotted in the front of his shirt. Another knight tried to get a hold of that head. She shoved one out of the way before the younger girl broke her nose on his lashing temple, effectively freeing his right arm.

He swung at her side, the air heaving up from her lungs. She laughed even when she collapsed to the side, coughing for air and hugging what felt like a cracked rib. “Fuck, Hadron! It’s supposed to be a party…” she mumbled, coughing still when she crawled to her feet. She swayed, almost falling backward into the onlookers.

Vinnia inched from the safety of the crowd on the other side of the brawl at the sight of it. She’d watched Wicker fight all her childhood. Something about this wasn’t right. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth open to drag at air. She blinked like she was struggling to see clearly. Her smile came slowly, delayed maybe.

Wicker managed to get stable on her feet, back against a stranger’s chest in the crowd and attention still trying to focus on the brawl ahead of her.

Jewl held his breath, the blue haired girl against him. He was supposed to look for a subtle moment, or a chance to challenge her to a duel, or even for her to pass out and be left unattended. The knife came easily from his jacket. With all eyes on the fight, on Hadron, who would see him stab her here? How thrilling, to kill someone in front of everyone and have it go unnoticed. He bit his lip and when she took a step forward, to rejoin the fight, his arm thrust at her back.
OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Ara on January 24, 2018, 09:20:23 am »
And, Verse, I love the ideas for Gloria. We can kind of makeup/develop their backstory as we go based on that, I think.

And Ven, it seems like Hadron might have derailed their Kingly conversation for a bit... lol
OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Ara on January 24, 2018, 09:18:53 am »
Oh my gosh. I wanna hate him but.. look at him! O_O
Rules, Guidelines & Site Updates / Re: Obviously Something is Wrong
« Last post by Ara on January 24, 2018, 09:12:58 am »
Yeah, everything should be as it was now. It just took them some time to finish transferring it all over.

And Verse, dear patron, NO REFUNDS!
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Paper Trails
« Last post by VenomousEve on January 23, 2018, 11:41:39 pm »
Subj: Strangers
<<sent to: sandboy on: November 21 @ 8:01:56 pm>>


I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I’ve just been very busy with school, and very listless at home. I haven’t had the energy to do much. Why does it make you mad? Do you not have very many friends? I don’t mean to pry, but you sound lonely when you say things like that.

There was a strange man on the train today. I think I’ve seen him a few times, and he sat next to me. He was very close and he smelled familiar, which scared me. Do you think he might be following me? I’m probably being paranoid. I think he tried to reach up my skirt, though I can’t be sure. I got up really fast and left before I could be sure. I got off the train two stops early, too. I’m probably overreacting, but my heart still beats hard when I think of it.

Maybe it’s because of what you said about the night. Lately I always feel watched. Sometimes I think it’s comforting, and sometimes it puts me on edge. Did you know that you can be a little bit frightening? Do you mean to be? I don’t mean that in a bad way. I think nighttime things can be good. Like you said, maybe I’m becoming one, a little bit. It’s refreshing, because my life is so comfortable during the day. It makes me feel like a terrible person for being dissatisfied or sad. I think I have been looking for an excuse to feel anything at all, really.


Kanna laughed. She’d already had a drink, provided by a sweaty man leaning over the bar. He’d asked her if she liked the way he looked at her and she hadn’t known how to answer. He called her “pretty little girl” when he handed her the drink, and she wondered if he meant it because he knew.

kankanna: what if I don’t want the memories?
kankanna: I think I just want to be somebody else. Everything happened to somebody else.

She didn’t understand herself, because she hated the burn of the vodka down her throat and drank it anyway. In a pitifully sel-absorbed way, she thought she was something like her glass’s kindred spirit. It didn’t matter if they dressed up the liquor with sugar and juice. It still tasted foul. The Network was a pragmatic balance of smoky bar space and a bass-throbbing dance floor, separated by modestly sound damping couches that had stains rendered invisible by the dim lights and intermittent strobes. Several couples had established themselves on the furniture and were engaged in questionable levels of intimacy. It was possible that Kanna’s guesses were worse than the reality. If she had realized that, she might have been embarrassed.

Kanna picked her way from the bar to the dancefloor, throwing back a shot along the way. She’d bought that one for herself, and asked for something sour. The bartender had been nice and obliged her, though he’d raised an eyebrow at the request. She could have at least tried to seem like she knew what she was doing there.

Kanna did not see Takeda and did not recognize Evram for who, or what, he was. When her head was spinning, she took to the dirty floor and thrust herself among the humid bodies and their strained musicality. She was a good night thing, when she danced. Eyes closed and head tipped back, thin wrists rising. People pressed around her, equal parts interested in her body and disinterested in her presence. She didn’t look to see if men or woman reached to touch her and pull her into their writhing. Kanna liked the sense of being buoyed along by the magic of music too loud to understand. When a glass was pressed to her lips, she thought briefly that she shouldn’t swallow, but did it anyway. This time, the burn did not seem so unpleasant.

It was late when she extracted herself from the floor. Kanna had encountered more liquid generosity than she’d anticipated, but that was self-deception at its finest. Kanna had come here four times since that night, and when she started drinking she found the alcohol continued to flow freely. In the empty hall by the restrooms, she sank to the floor with her back against the wall. Knees up, modesty an afterthought, and her dark eyes blinking slow.

kankanna: I’m scared somebody fucked me and I didn’t resist, but I’m sitting here like I don’t care. I should stop coming back like I want answers. I don’t think I want answers.

Kanna did not hurry, when her mother shouted that breakfast was ready. The tile in the shower felt good against her cheek and it looked like faeries were swimming in the water webbing her splayed fingers. She blinked them away and shoved her head under the spray, soap slipping down her forehead and stinging the corners of her eyes. She would talk to Mr. Welter today. When she approached him about her grades, she often felt like she was being annoying and it made her flush. She tried not to do it often.

She was twenty minutes late to her first class, and spent most of the day rephrasing what she thought she should say when she saw Mr. Welter at the end of the day.

Subj: Re: School
<<sent to: sandboy on: November 22 @ 7:34:01 am>>


I’m going to go see Mr. Welter today, like you said. You’re right, I should remember he’s an adult and go with that mentality. I think I expect people to be like me, and be confused and self-centered all the time. It makes me feel exhausted when I consider trying to give excuses about school. Mr. Welter, in particular, is difficult for me. I feel like he’s especially hard on me. I really don’t think it’s my imagination, either. Sometimes he looks at me like I’ve been spoiled, expecting better results. But it’s not that.

It makes me feel even weirder now. I don’t know why. Like, maybe his harsh grading is because he knows I’ve been terrible. It’s ridiculous to think he could see through me like that, when even people at that stupid party don’t seem to have noticed anything go wrong. Either way, it makes me feel a little like I might deserve the way he’s treating me. I almost want to ask forgiveness for something he knows nothing about. How completely absurd.


Kanna was anxious as she watched the other students leave the class, and she bobbed her knees restlessly as she waited in her desk. She’d taken her time packing up her bag, but she was still left without anything to occupy her as the last few ambled out of the room. It would bother her if Evram Welter was watching her, and it would bother her if he was not. When they were alone, she would stand with a little too much force, desk squeaking as it scraped backwards an inch.

“Um. Mr. Welter? I was hoping I could talk to you about my grade in your class and… I guess maybe… if there’s something I can do to bring it up?” Kanna’s voice hitched and she tugged the hem of her skirt. It should not have been hard to meet him in the eye when she walked to stand in front of his desk, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that every thread in her life was wound together. Like she wouldn’t have had to be here at all, if she’d been a better person to begin with.
OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Verse on January 23, 2018, 07:41:51 pm »
Figuring Idella's ol' army buddy. Maybe he hates Phellar a little for nurturing this side in Hadron? I also wanted a "freer" player to play with. He's open for anything. He is easily directed, like a bazooka, but I don't think super easy to control? I dunno. He's looking for a cause.
OOC Discussion / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Verse on January 23, 2018, 07:35:59 pm »
ladies and gentlemen I give you

Hadron, taken name, real name Marlon

Hadron was a good knight with tendencies toward violence, but had become proficient in reeling it in by the time the Hyacinth madness started. He went above and beyond fighting for Wicker’s and Idella’s cause, but never really came back to them after that. He stayed for a couple of months after Hyacinth opened up again, but was ultimately discontent about the new court and its stability, so he was propositioned by Phellar and accepted.

Before his abrupt change of values, he was hoping to be a tattoo artist and was a good friend of Alios because of it. They don’t see each other anymore. Even though Hadron keeps a rather bright exterior, it’s not lost on anyone that there is a deeply rooted wrath inside. It comes out in his explosive, extended punches and his needlessly volatile cqc tactics. Back when he and Idella used to spar, going through the ranks together, he was calmer, and concerned about his opponents. It seems now as though he’s angry at his former self for having denied this new side for so long. Phellar lets him run wild when there’s no immediate task for him.
Modern/Futuristic Roleplay / Re: Thoroughbred
« Last post by Verse on January 23, 2018, 07:25:09 pm »
Iora extended her chest further when she elicited the compliment from Jen. In her mind, Jen was well within her right to be jealous, and so Iora had to assume that she was. A strange conflict inside the history teacher then, to feel that Jen was pitiable for her conservative dress, and enviable for the boys’s attention at the same time. There was no lack of conflict in the woman. Iora was not impressed at Jen’s show of adherence to duty. “Twelve is when things get interesting, so I think that’s a good time for you to leave, yes.” The words could be taken as anything between praise at her forethought and propriety, and a pique at her lack of knowledge of these events.

Iora wore wrinkles on her forehead and looked at Jen from the journal. “They ARE beautiful already, slung with nobility and glowing with youth. Many of the ages here were eligible for marriage in the prime eras of the kingdoms they no doubt hail from.” She taught a class on that kind of thing. It was popular. Implied judgement or not, Iora would not have anyone doubt her own position on the children. She warmed somewhat at the next question.

“Yes,” I do attend all of them. It wasn’t entirely true. The Vespertines wouldn’t let her into their rituals, and some happenings were simply private. But Iora kept herself informed, at least. “they tend to like me there.” Equally true. Iora sighed as though Jen was a student that had completely misunderstood her lesson. Odd, because Iora was not prone to be this way with her actual students. “We have been given a great opportunity here, Jen, to involve ourselves in the lives of the future leaders of this world. I think it’s not out of place to show a little enthusiasm.” She returned to scribbling.

“What about you? What are you up to when you’re not grading sternly.” She asked though her attention was on her pages. She objected to Jen’s “fair” schooling, since Iora felt the higher positioned students should always have higher grades. Anything else would be unseemly and disruptive. “I rarely hear about your private life. Are you occupied with anyone outside of Versailles?” she did look up then, to try and understand Jen’s disinterest in the boys who looked at her.


Hermes didn’t fully receive what Lyanna’s new stiffness meant. It was because he was either too caught up with the mood he thought he felt, or because he wanted to be mistaken. Weren’t their forte that they were intelligent with their bodies? He listened to her, about the teacher. It seemed Jen was something of a role model to Lya, as well. He could see that, from the outside. “So do you.” He reminded. Balancing. Lyanna was something of a saint to him. It wasn’t a hard thing to attach to the ballerina, since her base problem was that she’d never put herself in any situation to compromise herself. It was the whole issue with Phellar, for both of the dancers.

“About our recital.” He said, and wasn’t sure what and spurred him to open his mouth about it. He was still slightly naïve to his own feelings on how unavailable her warmth was. “I was thinking of perhaps taking some critique. Should we throw something in that’s a bit out of our wheelhouse?” He felt appalled at what he was saying, but whatever thing inside that was spewing this went on. “Maybe, if they’ve not seen passion before, they could see it then?” But he wouldn’t exactly know where to start, on that. Historically, Lya would be a poor conversationalist on this matter, too. “Maybe if we break our lines a bit but make awed and struggling faces?” it was a joke, since people described as passionate on the scene seemed to check these two things – he and Lyanna had noted it often – but tonight it seemed strange to say, since she’d made a few face like that, thrown by Phellar.


Hiev had his own tears and Phellar’s residue on his cheeks while the Rose King breathed where he laid on the rug, sore and bullied, exhausted, with wrists still belted. “Ah… how dare you do this to me?” he said, as though he had any right to speak like a king now. He didn’t sound like one, sniffling and panting on the floor in the aftermath. “I didn’t want that.” He pressed.

Phellar, who’d bounced him on his lap and folded his legs out of the way for a great deal of deep fun, was already dressed. It made Hiev feel even smaller. “Then why did you say my name like that? You see, I’ve read that souls like yours can easily be bound if the right kind of abuse is applied.” He corrected his collar and leaned down to tug at the belt. Hiev was mortified to see the leather slip off with little resistance. “This particular knot only works if you want it to, princeling.” He grinned and used the belt as he should have been used, around his own waist. “Now, that you’re thoroughly fucked all the way through, I expect Rose to see to Chrysanthemum’s interests.” He said, leaned down into Hiev’s ear. Hiev sobbed and turned away, free, cold hands cupping his abused length as he curled up.

“That’s a pretty way to say yes, hiev. Maybe you’ll get another visit from me if you keep that up.” Phellar said as he started leaving, his back was to his skin-clad toy. “Get dressed soon and try not to still be moaning like a whore when you come back outside.”

Hiev cried quietly but nodded, groaning as he crawled toward his closest item of clothing.


Ebelt was also looking around when Gloria came around. It seem that was the game they were playing. He liked her. She’d always been on his wavelength, even if that didn’t matter much these days, with Hiev on the throne instead of himself. It hadn’t been fair to Golria, with all her efforts and his implied promises to her. “There are more swords in the house if you’d like to try yourself.” He said and finally turned to look at her. “Were you entertained at all, countess?” he asked and pulled some folded meat from a passing tray, he tossed it into his mouth and clapped his hands of the crumbs that had made the base of that treat. He moved the morsel to his cheek to continue speaking. “You might have to go barefoot, but I think your feigns are good enough to land a blow now that she’s all riled.” Real advice. Maybe to let her know he’d not been chanceless, out there.

He looked her over, and thought about their way up together. They had been formidable then, with their goals. He could not give her all the things she wanted, now that the crown wasn’t his, but he supposed he still owed it. Perhaps he felt guilty everytime he spoke to her now, and maybe that was why they didn’t meet much, anymore. She was a dependable person, as far as he knew, though. “I think if you challenged Alios, she’d come running.”


Hadron rolled his shoulders, casual snarl on one cheek spreading to ripple that side of his nose. Now that the duel had properly faded and merry was in the air again, he supposed he could get to work. Taniph was a good night, and she was always up for a fight, he knew. Under the Hyacinth umbrella, she wasn’t much, but she could take a punch, cute as she was. Hadron turned her around and her blue eyes grew large when she recognized him. “Duel.” He said and swung his arm so that his expertly dense fist would ram her cheekbone. She was unmoving when she hit the ground. Her fellow guards turned and immediately remembered the prolific fighter from the Hyacinth Madness that had left them soon after. He’d been on their side then, but served Phellar’s court now.

“Duels?” he asked as they jumped him, and he met them by throwing his head out of orbit for their retaliatory legs and arms so that he could send his own to their guts and faces. He was a violent, quiet, maelstrom, the thuds of impacts from his limbs loud in their subtlety, like trauma under skin is. Eventually the knights of the knight court crowded him and held on to his dangerous extremities. The only part of him that wasn’t wrapped in another person’s embrace was his head. He looked to Idella then, and grinned.

“They’ve grown soft, haven’t they?” he said, and Idella would know their mistake. It was in-fact the ruling Hyacinth King that had given Hadron his name, based on the then-Marlon’s tendency for a fierce headbutt. It had been of great help when they staved off the Hayden-faithful. Hadron had relished in the poor odds then, a sweet boy with daunting tattoos, but found himself in the blood of battle, and then gone to Chrysanthemum in hopes of quelling that inferno which the madness had brought. He was perhaps the foremost enforcer of Phellar, when matters were ballistic.

Before the redheaded king could warn his knights, the first nose fell victim for Hadron’s viper-like neck and the hard cranium attached at the end of that whip. His arm was free, but he continued to swipe his forehead with macabre skill until he could stand on his own, continuing the brawl. The crowd weren’t as interested as they had been of the higher profile duelists, and soon went on to do something else while the combatants had at each other.
Rules, Guidelines & Site Updates / Re: Obviously Something is Wrong
« Last post by Verse on January 23, 2018, 07:23:50 pm »
it's fixed! I'm so glad. I kinda wanted my money back there for a while. Especially when you guys charge such a steep monthly fee.
Rules, Guidelines & Site Updates / Obviously Something is Wrong
« Last post by Ara on January 23, 2018, 11:52:50 am »
Okay, so, obviously something is wrong with Para.

The company changed last night. Dior did a back up of the site and contacted the new company to ask if anything would change. They said it wouldn't be a problem but... well. Look at it.

We're on it. Don't panic! Everything is still here it's just ugly.
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