Poetry RP: Iambic Pentameter/Tetrameter, Trochaic Tetrameter This is an RP excerpt that was coordinated to be done in a poetic writing style. Whether it be for your reading pleasure, or your interest, we did it specifically for fun. It truly is amazing to have such talented writers as friends! Keep in mind this scene was done at 4:00 am, and posted directly from the chatlog. Excuse any typos.
Miso rested forward against the bar, taut gloved hands settling before her, resounding the obsidian studs that lined the betrayingly dainty knuckles against the woodwork. Ordering her 'usual', the tender would set two shotglasses before the leather-clad woman, as well as a bottle of red labeled whiskey, dressed with black silk. Pouring the potent amber into both glasses, she encircled a hand around one, shooting its contents past the dark, anesthetic coated lips. Despite the strength of the preferred drink, only a slight twinge at the corner of the newly glistening tiers would incite the fiery sensation traveling through her chest.
A small bit of shadows stirred themselves against the bar as the candles hung above Miso's position flickered themselves into a cold, darkness- the sticks of light near her left would have been snuffed from their short lived existence as well. As the shadows condensed themselves further upon the bar, the swirling of the magics would have finished exposing the man's leather-clad attire; his arms were reeled around, hands underneath his scalp as his voice spoke softly. "... I missed you, sista'." Adding in the small accent towards the end, in a mock of her own.
Miso inclined her head in cognizance of the shadow roiling down like black sand beset the vertices of a dune, only to culminate upon the lithe, roguish figure of Reidiv. When those words were spoken, the woman inclined her head, bringing the tightly leatherbound hand to the second glass filled with the fiery, dark amber. She seemed more concerned with the well-being of her bottle, in respects to the man's position. "Wha' ya' did-..." She began in the coastal locution; smoothed over by her boyish charm, a squeaky rumble. "Ta' tha' girl-..." She spoke no further, only drowning the southern accented tongue in the whelm of potent amber, shooting back the second glass. The woman's almond-shaped eyes was waned betwixt snowy lashes, fragmenting the ringlet of dimly glowing nephrite. If it weren't for the tribal make-up gilding the dark circles under a foundation of crimson strew over in fine brushwork of golden sunspires, her fatigue would have been noticeable a bit more than just the slight paling of her naturally islandish complexion. A single, untasked hand rose to rub a loose knuckles obsidian against the soft jawline, where bruises seemed to pepper her in a brawler's ware.
Reidiv began to unravel his hands from behind his head as they were brought in front of his exposure of that single ocular section of his wrapped leather helm. Digits beginning to bend themselves as the curving white knuckles exposed their rooted bones through the rugged conditions of his attire, his gloves serrated consistently. "What did I do to the girl?" His wolven voice came through at the resonating growl from the reverberating vocal cords, applying the deepened octave within his blasted tone of voice. A sharp inhale through his nose while lowering his palms upon the center of his diaphragm; fingers folding neatly into each other with an interlocked clasp. A hesitant contemplative thought ran through his brain before finally, he began to speak once more only fluid, and thorough with his words- lacking the opposed growl from before. ".. Shattered her dignity." The few words spoken as his head rolled towards his right spaulder to peer an amethyst in Miso's direction.
Miso felt that twinge at the corner of her lips, showing what reserve of her demeanor that remained a cynosure of the man before her. Those words incited a slight dusting of sanguinary beneath the crimson foundation. "She wos' a noble lass~" She began in the same smooth elocution; songish, if not a bit derailed from her normal boyish charm. "Th'Lady's younga' sista'." The dark lips pursed in the slightest, and the woman's head tipped down to peer at the whiskey bottle dressed in its black silk. A single, untasked hand rose to slip the slender tines of her digits beneath that dress, unclothing it, before lifting it to pour the two glasses full, once more. "Ya' have a younga' sista', too, ya'know~" Quieted at their end, she did not set the nephrite of her singular eyes upon the man, the uncut wintery bangs gilding them in a fracture of the vibrant iris. Even the golden heart that crested her crimson patch was partially occluded beneath the newly put-down hair.
Reidiv coiled himself from his current posture, his hands readjusted themselves to place upon the planks which constructed the bar's surface. Applying the sufficient amount of force to move the weight of his chest, and all into a proper positioning for his head to properly align with his sister's fixation. A cynical appearance of that amethyst, the regarded abyssal which surrounded the single hue, and resided deep within the eye itself, was dilation of those same magics which once cloaked his body. His feet arched down into the same fashion that his digits would've nestled themselves into, as his legs pulled themselves underneath the weight of his entirety, as they've done so many times before as his feral appeared sit would have been completed with his right hand coming down in buried knuckles betwixt his parted legs. "The woman's heart of cyro looked to me as if she'd the abilities to defeat the powers whom not even she could have comprehended. Attempting to the best the man who grasped her throat, and turn her pathetic facade into a reality of playing doll, with these strings.. I conjure the sanguine lines which spread underneath your skin, Miso.. understand that I don't take challenge lightly.." The sinister voice came through, as his head lowered in an immediate response to the raveled pity that seemed to envelope his current conscious, shaking his head as if in spite of his actions. "... No challenge... no strength... no power." Stifling another breath while taking a calmed glance into the regarded hue of his bloodline.
Miso drew back a thin footpad against the worn woodwork beneath her. A hand went for the neck of the bottle, assuming to grip it away from the man as he spun to face her in that perching poise. Dark, anesthetic coated lips peeled back to flash a view of the well-kempt pearls and primal incisors; sharp and predatory. The woman's half-breed pointed ears pinned back in their augmentation of animalistic reaction. To the sudden movement, the hollow clatter of tribal trinkets sounded their various ornamentation of her lithe, pugilistic physique. "Wha' do ya' have ta' prove agains' a young lass wit' th'will ta' protec' herself?~" She huffed angrily, the temperament was boiling in the young monk. Though, even to her, the smallest bit was hard to restrain.
Reidiv pushed down against the weight of his legs, to pull his body into a full stanced rise. His digits locking themselves kindly within the loops of his belt, as a clean breath escaped from his chest while right hand moved to calmly place into the center of his chest. "Very well... I've nothing to prove against a woman whom attempted to protect herself, I simply applied my strengths to further the cause, and make sure she wouldn't be able to rise again... deliberately taking out one's foe, and crippling them.. eternally." His hand slid down the length of his midsection until it reached his waistline to join polar opposite of his left in positioning. ".. If you'll have me.." His body began to be consumed in a short lived burst of shadows; raising up against his body until they pulled him into a sheet of nether... unable to be located once again.
Miso huffed once, showing a slight glint of primal canines, before allowing a soft respire to sink the meager chest beneath the taut, husked leather. She set the bottle back down against the bar, and continued to drink; allowing the potent whiskey to calm her feral nerves. The woman tosses back a few more rounds, before snapping the glasses against the bartop, downturned. Without any further words to the keep, she sets a few gold pieces down against the bar, idly stacking them to near perfect, directly between the two overturned glasses. Her features were flushed, feeling the effects of the dark amber quell. That singular eyes was fixed down. Given a moment, she turned upon the thin footpads, settling the cusp of her slender waist against the bar's edge, her hands beset either side, weighing her light form down, before pushing herself forward. Scrupulous, and economical steps took her out.
stygiansiblings