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ROLAND VS. ARGALIA
" Today folks, we got a bad case of in-law in-fighting! Aw, but what’s a little siblin’ rivalry between brothers, huh? Now I get tempahs are high, but I still want a good, clean fight-- ‘kay? ”
Ready? FIGHT!
@booksilent !
The priest is on his last legs. It's time to try and finish this off once and for all. Pulling out his scythe, Argalia performs Trails of Blue once again, rushing towards the enemy, attacking for heavy slash damage.
Once again, a blue smoke covers the area, lowering everyone's accuracy except for Argalia's. What a dick!
The Priest sees the strange mass of clouds and blue coming it's way and, too tired to attempt a dodge nor a run, raises it's cross as if to ward them off like some sort of exorcism. This does little of course, as the first slash cuts clean through his necklace chain.
The shadow's golden cross necklace falls loose to the ground.
Slashed across by the scythe, taking the heavy slash damage, the shadow's form finally grows unstable and gives!
The Priest Shadow is defeated!
with that cut clean through, the shadow presses it's palms together in prayer and bows it's head. It slowly breaks apart from where it was slashed and raises straight heavenward. It leaves it's cross behind.
Your party is met with... applause! Canned and artificial as it may be, the audience is simply roaring for the winners! Who says the house always wins?
However-- with one last flash the dice reappear and clean completely this battle worn room, including the blue smog that threatened to block the view of... something happening to the now blank-faced dice!
@scythesound started following.
The incessant need to be doing something bites HARD when it does bite. Akira finds himself out in the streets once again, keeping himself out of the majority of the pedestrian crowd as he tries to figure out what exactly he wants to do for the rest of the afternoon. There's so much--time to be spent with his friends, asking advice from his confidants, preparing for the next heist...
...Goodness. Maybe he should just get back on the subway. He's starting to LOOK like a lost country boy, undoubtedly.
( yells lOUDLY ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE MIMI )
heart. scREAMS RIDICULOUSLY ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE STEVIE TBH !!!!!!!!! Because no but, seriously, Stevie darling, do you know how wonderful you are? How fantastic you are? You’re just so bright that it’s like you’re a star tbh, because you’re so lovely and wonderful to be around; it’s like you could light up an entire galaxy! I mean you fucking wrote my poetry the night that we started talking to each other, who does that? A star, probably. T:
And even more than that, you’re just so genuinely talented and wonderful and amazing at the things that you do that I just need to sit here sometimes in awe of you. Of your writing and your theme editing and your edits in general, of the way that you can characterize your muses flawlessly and it is just something beautiful to bear witness to. I’m so glad that I met you, and I’m so glad that I mentioned to you that I always had a Maka muse, and I’m just so fucking glad that you’re my Soul, y’know? Because you get things the way other people sometimes don’t, and I’m eternally relieved that it’s you who decided to choose me and my ridiculousness.
( That sounds self depreciating and I’m sorry about that but I really mean it; sometimes I feel like I can be an overbearing roleplay partner and that the way I see characters tends to be a darker/more unusual way and finding someone who agrees with me is just so important and I skdfjsnk and also !! With you, we found our SE group and that just makes me so monumentally happy tbh. )
Not done yet, by the by, because I also need you to know that you’re so much fun to talk to. Seriously. We just started talking like—what? Maybe a month ago? Probably more like three weeks? Now I can’t imagine going a day without at least sending you a hello message, because talking to you is just so much fun that I can’t not. You’re honestly just so lovely that I just don’t think it’s possible to anyone to dislike you, and I’ve come to adore you so fast that it is honestly making my head spin? Like, damn, even though I’m not complaining. Just stay in my life for a little while, okay? Or for however long you want !!
1, 2, & 8 uvu
1: what position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) describe why they do this — optional.
ret sleeps in what’s known as a “freefall” position, which is when a person sleeps on their stomach with their hands up and around the pillow, their head tilted to one side. people who sleep in this position are known to be quite confident, and don’t particularly like criticism. while they appear to be extroverted and liked by many, they’re set on their beliefs and objectives and their ideals take precedence both in theory and in practice, and they believe that everything has to be done their way. they’re known as selfish, outgoing, and thin-skinned.
reterice is a skilled manipulator who knows exactly what he wants out of life and how he wants to achieve his goals; he’s always so far ahead of the game, even if it’s somewhat easy to get under his skin. contrary to his outgoing nature, he doesn’t like to socialize. almost everything fails to impress him; if he has a hobby he likes to indulge in more than once or someone that he consistently interacts with, they have to be pretty damn interesting or useful.
2: does your character have any noteworthy features? freckles? dimples? a scar somewhere unusual? etc.
he has a birthmark resembling the shape of a star located somewhere near his navel. he thinks it’s a lucky mark and he constantly refers to it as polaris. he also has long, jagged scars running along his back from incidents that occurred during adolescence; he doesn’t like to go into detail about them, but he thinks they’re pretty cool to show off and tells a different story as to how he received them every time they’re ever brought up in conversation.
8: are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?
as an information analyst for the oia, he’s required to make quick decisions without any forthright thought whatsoever. most of the time, he’s prone to making decisions without thinking the consequences through, because he’s typically confident in the choices he makes. when things backfire, he tends to slow down a little and learn from this mistake, therefore he can correct any future error in the future. reterice is a man of perfection, and he strives for it.
withdrawn. talks about 6846546216 AUs/general concepts with scythesound. cries over all of them. skdfjsnkjdfn
❝ So we'll try again, and eventually we'll get it right. ❞
Send one for my muse's reaction.
Frustration lined every edge of the lines and shapes and cells which made up her entity, her entirety; bitter absolute simmered in olive eyes and nothing less than a scowl pulled at her lips. So often, it was she who was comforting, it was she who tried so hard to be positive, to shed light on the situation, to not get absolutely lost in frustration and anger and irritation; wrath was truly a downfall for her, but she worked hard to keep it under control. After all, losing herself to anger was not part of her, it was not interwoven in her entirety, and she refused to allow something so basic as a human emotion to rule her.
"Eventually isn’t good enough!”
Tone wrought betwixt desolation and vexation, corners of her mouth pulled inward, feet carrying her, taking her, pacing to and fro, urge to scream in any and all capacities smothered. At least in part. Logically it would be best for her to breathe and to relax, to think about the situation objectively and not allow her irritation to overwhelm her senses, to release negativity and bring forth humility and acceptance that they were not ready for certain things yet. That they were not strong enough for certain maneuvers that more experienced meister-weapon pairs could undertake.
But already her insides had been clawing at the epithelium layering her body, her stomach a pit of nothingness yet as heavy as stone weighing upon her. Already her heart had been constricting, her sternum aching, the entirety of her rib cage feeling as if it were preparing to fall apart into nothingness, to crumble and leave her heart and lungs bare and vulnerable beneath the fragility of her skin. T’was not the fault of her partner ( never Soul’s fault, not truly, it was not in his designation as her weapon and arguably the person closest to her to cause such strife and anxiety, because that was not the nature of their relationship ) but rather of otherwise elements of her life. Such feelings had not truly left her for a long, long while, in truth; not since she had first seen her papa with another woman.
Throwing herself into training was all that she could do. Attempts ( suicidal, to some ) to better herself and push herself past the limits and bounds of what she, a young teenager, could possibly do. Taking on as many assignments as possible, holding back only when thinking of her partner, only when thinking that dragging him through her own emotions was unacceptable. But the desire to become something greater than herself was overpowering, the desire to show her mama ( before she leaves, her mother was leaving her, leaving her, leaving her ) and papa that she could live without them, that she was more than strong enough.
“It’s not—”
A choke in her voice would have been mortifying at any other time, in front of everyone else, but she could not bring herself to feel embarrassed by her lack of control over the emotions which roiled and thrashed within her. Instead she could only swipe furiously at the tears which did not fall with the sleeve of her cloak, could only grit her teeth and lower her head, her eyes, direct her gaze to the ground. Could only avoid looking at her partner, could only tense her shoulders and feel a scream build up in the hollow of her body, begging to be released, only to be killed brutally by a constriction of her throat.
It was easy for her to say that she hated men, it was easy for her to side with her mother when it came to the divorce. It was simple to blame her father for the strife which befell her parents’ marriage. But it was not so elementary to admit that she was bitter and angry that her mother was preparing to leave Death City behind, to not even fight for custody of her. It was certainly not uncomplicated to admit that her anger was felt towards both parties wholly, for her papa for saying that he loved them both more than anything, for her mama for saying that she loved them too, but that it was not enough.
And in all the worlds, in all the universes and galaxies, it felt as if she were floating. As if the meister were unable to find a gravitational pull to keep her grounded, to keep her mind centered and her emotions in check. Days and weeks and months and years struggling by herself; and throughout it all it was as if there was nothing for her to cling onto. But it was as if the ground rushed upon her feet, as if the world had color and sound and eternity stretched before her, genteel and not terrifying, as a hand fell upon her shoulder, fingers curled about the bone, and squeezed gently. Silent gesture given, comfort exchanged, quiet and potentially not able to be understood by others——
Yet for the first time in eons, she breathed easy.
scythesound replied to your post:withdrawn. Modern AU where Maka is a bookish jock...
( modern au where soul replaces all the books on her shelves w/ tins of anchovies for a vine )
The scene is her bedroom, a vague shot shown through a smart phone's camera. Mostly her door is shown, opening, and then a cut to her bookshelf, filled with tins of anchovies, massive amount of books gone to a mysterious place. A pan back to Maka. Her face is red and her shoulders are tensed and there is the fiery rage of a thousand sun gods in her eyes, steam is blowing out of her ears. A manic scream is released along with a shriek, the view shakes as they crash out the window, Soul cursing loudly as the track star chases him down the street, the phone is dropped and everything goes dark.
( Maka's papa is pissed about the window. Soul has to pay for it. )
