there are many names in history.

History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. I know history. ind. rp account for iravine

[warblossomed-deactivated2017080]

 PLEASE, REBLOG THIS IF YOU’RE AN INDIE RPER WITH A MUSE THAT IS A TRANS WOMAN

[ruinbuilt]

    kineticember.

“Alright, consider yer tab for this month payed.” She poured just a bit more rum and scotch into his tumbler. “but after this no more for the night.” She chuckled even if he didn’t pay her in cash, having a prophet like him as a bit of an errand boy had it’s upsides. “sorry i make you go out and get this stuff sometime, i’d do it myself but the dragon’s den is quite busy even on it’s down time guess people love our food.” She hummed looking in the bag just briefly, before placing it gently down next to her. “I’m trying to get some more nonhuman customers, so these will really pay off in brewin’ somethin that they might like.” 

“speakin’ of help, i could use your hands for tonight if ya don’t mind the overtime and don’t worry about the pay you’ll get somethin’ outta it booze or cash.”

               ANAKIN DROPS HIS hands into his lap, hiding the bone-white curl of his fists beneath the bar top. ❝ I think... I think something bad is going to happen to me. ❞ He gulps down half of his drink, wincing as it sears down his throat && lights his chest on fire. He stands, height slanting far above the goddess before him. ❝ I have served you since I was nine years old. ❞ A breath. ❝ I know I’ve been a terrible prophet. But— ❞ He reaches out in front of him, like he may grasp the answer from thin air. ❝ You have to promise me that if something happens, you will protect my family. My children... Padmé... ❞

               He sways, the world a kaleidoscope blur as he palms for the stool below him. ❝ I think, maybe, I had too much to drink. The festival is getting to me. ❞

[supagirl]

Gina Torres in Claws

[iravinehq]

EVENT 001 - THE START!        song composed by peter gundry                    

IT WAS NOT AS MOST SUMMER DAYS.  as the tree’s carried the finest of fruit it was clear that many had rotted away against nature and it’s timing.  while the FESTIVAL OF SOALISTAE ( the festival of summer )  prepared for its debut had it been obvious something wasn’t right within the land it set proudly on?  a city filled with traditions new and old had found itself in a crossroads of those who were worriers and who were warriors.  for some, a dead tree was merely a representation of another tree to be planted and a form of rebirth.  while others saw the rotten fruit as a sign of the times - a warning for those who were willing to dare the thought of something disastrous.

The festival is one of many things besides surrounded by the most beautiful of flowers and decorations as it’s the celebration of life.  it’s a festival in sacrifice to the gods to thank them for the food that is harvested. it’s only till the morning of the day many have waited for that they find themselves in the horror of seeing animals in masses dead on their land.  the festival will carry on only to leave many worried of what’s to come. The scene begins in a beautiful garden in the center of the city filled with tents offering food and gifts while dancing and music is carried out.  tell me, is your character one to forget about the events of earlier that day or one who can’t bite back the worry.

HOW IT WORKS!

tag an open or starter call in the #iravinestarter tag

BE CREATIVE! don’t hold back & make sure to add to the #worldbuilding server on discord if your character comes up with any further ideas about what might be happening.

this is for iravine members only!

make sure like & reblog to show you’ve seen this!

[ruinbuilt]

kineticember.

“gonna have to give me a bit more ta go off of kiddo.” rubbing the back of her neck a little nervously, as she let out a brief plume of smoke from between her lips, it filled the air with a visible thickness, the scent of sea salt taking over the stench of alcohol in the booth. “I mean i know you’re a prophet and everythin’ but don’t you have a bit more than just SOMETHING BAD. and ya do tha’ errand i asked ya to sometime ago?”

     ❝ NO, I DON’T. ❞ Anakin polishes off the rest of his drink, tumbler clattering against the bar top when he sets it back down. That’s one upside to working for a god who owns a bar. Free drinks. Or at least they become free, on account of Anakin refusing to pay for them. ❝ Yeah, yeah. Here. ❞ Anakin withdraws a small felt pouch choked off by a lock mermaid hair. He tosses on the table, the contents jangling. ❝ One more round for your favorite prophet? ❞ A finger indicates the empty tumbler. 

[ruinbuilt]

ANNAMAE GLAPION IS a citizen of the mysterious city of New Babylon. She owns an occult shop called ‘The Witch’s House’. She is a Voodoo Queen && known for her maternal nature && charms. She is very much for the light side.

Descended from one of the founding members of New Babylon, Annamae is a proud New Babylonian. The Witch’s House has been passed down through her family for generations, going to the eldest daughter of each line as a gift on her twentieth birthday. Given the historic nature of the shop many New Babylonians are aware that Annaemae is in fact the second eldest child, who took over for her elder sister after she mysteriously disappeared. 

[ruinbuilt]

     ❝ SOMETHING’S COMING. ❞ HE doesn’t need prophetic dreams to see that. Something’s set its teeth in the city that it can’t quite shake loose. The people of New Babylon breathe between hair triggers, a kind of tension barely holding them all together. When Anakin can sleep, he dreams of fire. Flames climbing through his mind && blotting out all sustainable logic. He dreams of dying in ways that don’t end with his body in the ground. ❝ Something bad. ❞

@kineticember

[ruinbuilt]

     ❝ YOU SHOULDN’T BE here, Luke. ❞ He doesn’t know why he says it, but something about this empty warehouse screams for singularity, for him to be the only living soul inside. He’s been drawn to this place before, seen its cracked concrete floors && dirt windows honeycombed with wire in his dreams. && every night waking nightmares return him to its center. He doesn’t even remember walking here this time, or the fact that Luke must have followed him. 

     ❝ You have volunteer work in the morning. You should be sleeping. ❞ His voice is empty, monotoned. 

@galcticmartyr

[ruinbuilt]

starter call for my iravine buds!

[ruinbuilt]

    ❝ THE UNSEELIE QUEEN believes another one of her knights to be missing. ❞ Leto crosses her arms over her chest, the heavy black velvet of her robes whispering as she walks to the nearest window. ❝ That’s the tenth person to be reported missing in two days. ❞ Her sisters wail, their voices building through the delicate coils of their mind. ❝ My sisters haven’t stopped singing. ❞ This can’t bode well for anyone.

@zehsvara