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      Vote for Valucre [June]   05/16/2017

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Wanderlost

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About Wanderlost

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    Born of Water
  • Birthday 02/29/1996

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    dylanphillip13

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  1. ...But will you do a role play with me?
  2. I wish you both the best. I'm more than happy keeping this on hold until we are all well enough to continue.
  3. Soon as the fingers around her wrist loosened, Cia Sha shot up and stumbled into a passerby, all the while staring blindly at Paris and his companion. Her lips curled as her fear and distaste for him coalesced. Her hand tightened around his "gift" as she contemplated whether she could get away with throwing it at his face, wishing she could scream at him--tell him he's disgusting and awful, but she pressed her lips together and clenched her teeth. His presence spoke of power beyond any she could ever dream of, so she sneered and shook her head before she turned and fled into the crowd, leaving her walking stick behind. Crowds were one thing. She just had to focus on her senses and pay attention to where people were around her. It wasn't like navigating in a bar room where everything was lifeless and invisible to her. Cia Sha's shaky hand hooked a thumb under the chin of her mask, teasing the lingering blue hem of her dress as she disappeared into the crowd. She pulled the mask back over her face, hiding her scars under a new guise: That of her former self, clean of skin with beautiful, well kept golden hair, and a cloth over her eyes to communicate to others she was blind--a singular modification to the echo of the memory of her reflection. Once she had gotten far enough to put them beyond the periphery of her senses, having stumbled upstream through the crowds of people, she went to the edge and felt about for a wall. She stumbled over a small fence and leaned against the wall she found on the other side, feeling at the objects he'd placed in her hand. She plucked the medallion from atop the bag and stuffed it under her collar, because as much as she was loathe to accept a gift from the antic foreigner, it did strike her as a potential boon for the future. The bag she fingered through, and puzzled over until she realized he'd paid her, like she'd been whored out for her vulnerability. Fear and rage welled up into her throat and she gagged, coughed, and then threw the bag. Somewhere away from the crowd and the wall. Judging by the sound, it hit a wall and scattered on dirt or something. She didn't care. She turned the other way and stumbled back over the fence, following the crowd away from that awful bench. [Exit Cia Sha] @King @Nox
  4. Cool! Sounds like you'll fit in pretty well here. The "Getting Started" tab should help you out if you haven't come across it yet. Also, we've got that, "Anything goes as long as nthing OP happens" Policy too. We call it Mild Powers. Generally, you shouldn't be able to do more than destroy a building with five posts of preparation, but that is a vague benchmark, admittedly... I look forward to reading your writing.
  5. Welcome to Valucre! What's your role play history like? Are you new to the scene, or have you previously written on other sites? What interests you in role playing? What sorts of things do you prefer to write about? Maybe this questions will help you with your introduction. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you get started. Happy writing.
  6. Lol. I think Gabi answered that question for me forever ago.
  7. She'd never spoken once throughout the spanning of her life Until the day she leaned forward, grinned and pulled the nurse aside And she said: "Look, I've never had a dream in my life Because a dream is what you want to do, but still haven't pursued I knew what I wanted and did it till it was done So i've been the dream that I wanted to be since day one!" Well! The nurse jumped back, She'd never heard Lucy even talk, 'Specially words like that She walked over to the door, and pulled it closed behind Then Lucy blew a kiss to each one of her pictures And she died
  8. ooc

    I am caught up in everything but this. I expect to post some time tomorrow, as patterns have shown I don't often post when I'm all tired after work.
  9. A different scene, made possible by their link, played out next to the clear recurrence coming from Avvercus. What pieces of it were missing were filled in by his perspective, and it helped draw something from deep within Antique's mind. Something beyond a wall still standing. Avvercus is looking down at me--strange--I'm sleeping, leaned against him, between his legs. Gentle waves push water over the shore a couple feet away and a breeze denies any possibility of having one's hair just so. The sand is hot, but he doesn't seem to mind, and my dress is thick enough that the heat from the sand doesn't compare to the sun's own, making a sweaty mess of me beneath the cursed layers of cloth. Naps in the sun are often over-glorified. I come to my waking senses and I have to sit up to get away from his warmth, and that sea breeze is a relief against my neck. Oh gods, I run a hand through my hair and it's completely disarrayed, sticking to my forehead. That at least I can swipe back. I twist around to face him and try not to think about the scolding I'm likely to receive from my maids, but we came here on a whim. I was frowning, but he's got that stupid, beautiful smile on his face. It's not fair to be mad at that. "How did you sleep?" He asks. I close my eyes and try to push away my frustrations. When I blink them open, I give a tired smile back to him. "I shouldn't have." Crawling back toward him, I plant my hands in the sand to either side of him and kiss him. Shock! Antique startled awake with a gasp and felt something--not painful--enter her flesh near her stab wound. She tried to lift her head up, but words she couldn't make sense of encouraged the blacksmith-bartender to press down on her forehead and keep her looking up at the clouds, so aloof, gliding across the perennial blue. It served as a backdrop as Avvercus's memories still filled her head, and she struggled to remember what she had just been dreaming about. Avvercus was there. She had kissed him casually? She felt so gross, so sweaty, but it wasn't too hot and she wasn't that sweaty--was that a sensation lingering from the dream? What is happening? The thought tore through her mind and the link in a fit against her disorientation. And then something else poured from wherever her memorial dreams did. A slew of informational, which she suddenly, just, knew. My full name is Siwaili Kaia Ri Aiwal Miri-Lephka. She had learned this already. I am 3,303 years old. My memory resets once every 150 years. I am neither a force of good or evil, and this cycle, I will live and learn and make my own decisions. I will remember the languages and most of the skills I learn, though some things will have to be relearned. Even though it is frightening to know that after 150 years, it all goes away, remember that I, or you, or we do not. This is the price I pay, and it is worth it. This message played out in the form of knowledge, not taking time. It was simply a speech she knew she had heard before. In her voice. She wasn't struggling against the lady who had her hand on her forehead. She was trying to make sense of it all. She pressed her lips together. I'm that old? The idea struck a point of pride she didn't think she had. But then she thought about it more. If that was a speech I heard, does that mean I'm much older? Recalling it though, she didn't recall her age actually being said. Something else filled in that information, and the more she tried to think about it, the more the details eluded her. But she did learn something. This is something she should have remembered from the beginning. From the day she stumbled among the people milling into Palgard. So why hadn't she? She clawed her fingers into the dirt as she fussed over it. Is something wrong this time? She worried. I need to remember.
  10. Hands, unsteady enough to match their deception, withdrew in shock in response to the strange slave girl getting closer, and relief flowed viscous over sickly knots of fear and disgust when the girl pulled away as well. Her lips parted and her jaw loose, Cia Sha closed them. She swallowed and brought her hands to her lap, turning once again to face forward, only to dread when fingers in phrasings would pull her chin back to face the couple of horrible foreigners. I should leave. She thought. She had been wanting to the whole time, but caught in the moments she'd been forced to share with her heart racing in her chest, she hadn't thought to be rude in her departure. Considering it now, it seemed dangerous. Slighting one so seemingly vindictive would surely be a danger to her. But she should be ready to try to run, should any threat be made against her. And there she was, a symbol of weakness masked by a symbol of frailty, within arm's reach of one who she had begun to realize enjoyed preying on either type. She turned back, her legs positioned such that, if she were to push herself up from the bench, she could run into the sea of shifting auras that seemed so ignorant of her plight. She signed, hands stiff, It has been nice talking with you two. I think I have someone waiting for me now, and I don't want to make them impatient. She scooted to the edge of her seat and made the mistake of waiting for a response before getting up and leaving. @King @Nox
  11. Thicker Than Blood (Active)
  12. Scoffs and impatient huffs themed Alarin's exit, and she waved Ellen and Heddwyn out the door. She pushed past Llewena, and blinked in disbelief at what she saw, but as the receding sun cleared from her eyes, what she had thought was an empty field seemed to populate with the buildings she remembered walking in with, so she made little more of it than that and glided down the steps saying, "Come on guys, let's make this quick so we can meet up with them at the witches' place." She let out a burp ill-fitting of her figure, "Guy's probably got nothing to do with it anyway." Overhearing Dryston inquiring about a remark Alarin had missed, she shouted behind her without turning her head too far. "Two ales better not be a thing to cry over!" "Wait up, will you?" Heddwyn halted her, and she turned to face her assigned companions with her hands on her hips, walking backwards. "Wait up? No, hurry up. What's th'point in goin' slow? Come on, really." She said, hinting a wink.
  13. Closed

    Ominous optics concealed a countenance Antique had begun to suspect might be manic. She had a hand tight around her dagger's grip, and she could feel her pulse in that as well as she could in her chest. It hurt, actually, but she was more focused on the possibility that she'd have to defend herself against Larque. She tried to squint past the silver-black disks that hid his face, but found no fruit in the endeavor. She stepped back, cautiously, facing her body away so as to make flight an option. It hurt, the way she was hunched over, but she didn't want to change her posture for fear of triggering him into a frenzy. "Larque, I don't know what you're thinking, but you're talking to yourself and it's scaring me." She warned him. Is Yh'mi finally getting to him? She wondered--she feared. She glanced around, never taking her eyes off of him for too long, and doing so brought on an additional set of fears. She had meant to figure out a path to run to if he attacked, clutching that necklace weapon as he was, but those black shapes that had been teasing the shadows at the edge of her vision seemed to be swelling around the trunks of trees. She thought she'd seen eyes attached, glinting in what light poured through the foliage, but she couldn't place them when she looked directly, and she snapped her attention back to Larque rather quickly. "Larque please! We aren't safe here. Don't make things worse for us!" She pleaded with him, doubting whether he even heard her.
  14. Exercises. Master Aerys had had an endless plethora of different repetitions and meditations to help practice certain aspects of the techniques he'd taught her. When he was making specific instructions, it was all he would allow Cia Sha to do unless she was sleeping. After her year with him, she'd relented the habit, and only sporadically practiced certain things to keep her senses fresh. It was one such exercise she was practicing as she cupped her arms around a bowl of soup, softly breathing in its savory scents and basking in the feeling of the warm moisture gathering on her scarred lips and skin. She had a robe some man had given her speaking words about courtesy, and how no one would want to look upon a face so ruined. Even with it having been so long, there were few who looked upon her without exclamation, save for those kind people who had chosen to help her. If she had ever had pride in her features, that too had been taken from her. She was reaching out with the senses she had been taught. Life, in all shapes, had auras of flavors or tones, and people stood out more than anything else. It helped her navigate the world just a bit more, as though she had regained some semblance of the sight she had lost, though... She hadn't. It didn't help her find her way to the table she sat at any better than she would have without it. In fact, it still felt like she had a bruise on her hips from where she'd bumped into a table. She often carried a stick with her to help with that, but that had been checked at the door. And on top of that, it was the fourth place she'd been to since she showed up in Mezthaluen, and it was the first one where someone seemed to understand her signing. Thus, she had the privilege of lifting her spoon to her lips and sipping at the soup she'd been mulling over, though it was exceptionally hot and she plopped it back in her soup after hardly taking a sip, and then she swished around until it was cool enough to swallow. Lucky, at least, that it didn't burn her tongue too bad. It disrupted her for a moment from mentally sorting through all the different people in the room and identifying what her insight told her. Some were disgruntled. Others were happy. No one stood out, but she counted. Nine were in a large group, hearts filled with fear and anger. She picked them out and focused on their conversation from a few seats over. They seemed to be listening to one man, who was rattling off information between heavy breaths. Something about how the rest of the church had encountered a demon and driven it into the swamp, and that they should come along and help capture the sacrifice. Cia Sha flinched at this, or rather, at how his description continued. "She's practically just a giant snake with arms and eyes that window not to a soul, but to the very abyss she comes from!" He spat with such fervor, like he was delivering a twisted sermon, and he left promptly with the rest clomping in toe. Cia Sha clenched her teeth and clamped her hands on the table edge to assist her in getting up, and she led a swift limp to where she had surmised the counter was. She shelled payment onto the table for her soup and started signing, though she was stopped. "Oh, ope, right. The mute one--right, right. I can't read that. Stop." He sighed when she did. "Mickelle!" He shouted much louder than necessary, and response spiked from a woman further from the entrance. "Is Red still in the back?" "Yeh. Dressin' down. S'off now. Why be?" The woman replied with a slurring accent. The man's reply amounted to small sounds and a gesture Cia Sha was unaware of. "Right. Wait here little lady. He'll be right out." And so he was. Some few minutes later, by the time Cia Sha was drumming nervously on the table, knowing the men had gained quite a head start and were likely faster than her to begin with, a man came through the back door and stopped with gentle steps next to her. "Hey again." He said, his accent suggesting sophistication and Terrenus descent. He audibly fingered through her money. "Looks about right on the money. What is it?" She ceased her knocking on the table and rushed her signing. "Whoa whoa, slow down please." There are men chasing down a snake lady! Apparently they've run her off into the swamp and lost her! She still went quickly through the signs, but she slowed down enough that he didn't protest. "Oh! Well, no time to waste then. Do you know where?" He said, leading Cia Sha toward the door. "I'm out for the night. Take care, guys!" When he had her out of the establishment, Red repeated his question, and Cia Sha replied, They said North-West. "Alright. Stay safe and I'll do all I can." He said, and he tried to push past her, but she shot out a hand and locked her knuckles around his sleeve. "What?" He asked as a response. I'm going too. She signed. "What? You're blind, we'll just end up being too slow." She made a fist and tightened her lips. For a moment, she thought she might cry for how angry it made her, but it dissipated enough that she could think clearly, so she signed again. I can heal her if she's hurt. The man didn't reply, he just hooked his arm into hers and dragged Cia Sha along with him. They made a quick detour along the way, she gathered, because he told her to wait in one place for a moment, and ran in and out of a house, something clanking about in his other hand. Later than that, they were trudging through mud, and she was developing images of how awful boots and tights must have looked covered in mud. She was wearing a skirt and a blouse. One was blue, and one was grey. Or so she had been told. She'd doffed the cloak that had been put upon her, since it had made it difficult to keep up with Red. They sloshed and waded through water at some points, and he scoffed in annoyance at Cia Sha's whimpers, but eventually, he stopped and pulled her down, sodden mud layering over soaked knees. They both listened, as Red felt no need to silence the mute, blind girl. Voices, shouts and yells, sounded around them. "She's got to be around here somewhere!" "Joe's fetching the swimming gear!" "Find the demon!" "Kill her!" "Woo!" Their communication digressed into excited sadism, and it set sadness on Cia Sha. She patted at Red's shoulder until he snapped back at her in a whisper. Give me a moment to reach out. I might be able to tell if she's around here. "Good. That will help." She focused on her ability, now instead of focusing on individuals as she had in her exercise previously, she tried to extend her senses as far as she could into the forest. In nature, unlike when in cities, each tree and blade of grass had a subtle droning presence that served to distort the other auras around them, but she could tell where things were nonetheless. There were men combing the trees ahead of them, and the sounds she heard suggested a lake not far away. While the men seemed generally uniform in their hateful excitement, a different tone came from behind them and to the right. Subtle as the marsh plants, muted, fear and pain formed a susurrus that she marked as something that was at least a possibility. . . . Red, who had done a decent enough job at masking his annoyance with having to bring the blind lady with him, showed relief when she signed and pointed, I think she might be over there. "Good." He whispered and found her elbow again, pulling her in that direction. Once or twice, she patted his chest and pointed to redirect them, and eventually they came across a patch where the grass was much shorter around a great willow, and goblins were gathered around the base of it. One had a bucket, and they were all arguing in a hush. He laid a hand on Cia Sha's chest to tell her to stay and crept forward, drawing his sword slowly from its scabbard. A goblin pointed at him as he came nearer and his disturbance of the ankle-high water became more obvious, and they all spread their stances, glancing around. Seeing only him, they drew their daggers and ran at him. It was short work for him to follow the teachings of Kana and his father, and he laid them down in the mud with little yells. One ran away with the bucket, but he didn't make much of that. The blind girl found her way to him and around the bodies, which he had hoped he would have been able to hide from her, but she seemed to have seen it somehow. He cleaned off his sword and caught up to her as she was struggling to get up to the branch the Lamia was on, her tail hanging off the branch such that it might have fooled an unknowing onlooker into thinking it was an actual giant snake. "Let's just take her down." He said, and she signed her denial of the idea. He huffed, then pushed her up to where she scrambled onto the branch and scooted toward the sleeping Lamia. He breathed out in frustration and crossed his arms, then wheeled around to survey the area, deciding he wasn't the most useful for such things. Better to keep his clothes clean than get in the little lady's way. . . . Cia Sha fumbled around in front of her until her hands came upon flesh. A face, soft and truly hard to puzzle out through touch, but that wasn't the point. From her touch extended a metaphysical survey of her wounds, which had been described to her as warm and soft by previous patients. She flinched as her gatherings reflected the pain to her, and she half-felt it. The anatomy that was not her own, and each point of pain, as well as information on the state of her body. She was carrying a harmless virus that was best left as it was for the health of her immune system, and she had suffered many wounds from her assailants. She focused on those points of pain, and studied how they had been made, theorizing a motley of weapons, improvised and otherwise. Then she did as she had been taught so long ago. She drew of the wellness in her, focusing on her own heart and feeding it through a complex arrangement of spell-like structures made from the life that flowed through the world around her. That, in how she applied it, should serve to block the Lamia from senses of pain. Then, she changed her array of channeling nodes, drawing off of the injured woman's energy and filtering through information she couldn't understand, though she didn't need to. It was a magical pattern that she only had to copy with the energy around her and feed into the Lamia, restoring anything that didn't match the pattern over time. The priest who had instructed her on it said that they were instructions that the body has, that the mind does not, that had all the necessary information to build a living being. That it was the information that the body used to grow. He had taught her that healing was just growing, or regrowing in the right way, and keeping up the complexities it took to weave everything just so left her exhausted by the time she took her hands off the Lamia's face and propped herself up with them. Appendages severed, scales missing, broken bones, and lacerations, however deep, should have been mended in the thirty-or-so minutes she sat there with her hands on the lady's face. Cia Sha breathed just a bit heavily, which she felt was mostly due to how warm it was. During those thirty minutes, she had been completely focused on the task at hand, and expanding her senses once again, she became tense and nervous. Red wasn't there! She reached out further, and connected his presence with a sound she had still been blocking out. Grunts and arguing, but a splash paired with a sudden wave of fear from one of them, and it took her a moment to figure out who was who, though shortly after she realized Red was the one letting off the vicious aura, and the other faded from life. He had killed another! Hopefully she could be done with him as soon as possible. Each death wrenched at her heart, and it had been beating so quickly when he had even gotten close to her after killing those goblins. She shuddered, and he came closer. A dark cloud casting a shadow over what should have been a lovely, bright success.
  15. You intrigue me. I could make time to procrastinate in another role play. :P Soris might be a good match for your character.