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About Praetorian

  • Rank
    Hero of Dreams
  • Birthday 07/14/1988

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  • Interests
    Finding myself
  • Occupation
    Professional Deflector

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  1. Valucre Discord 2.0

    Good-bye sweet prince.
  2. Valucre Discord 2.0

    Actually, there might be a different problem. So hear me out here Dre. Pretty sure at one point we had two Jesus negro's, I kicked one that hasn't been used in awhile months ago. If I had to guess bro, you have two different discord accounts. Most likely you signed up once on mobile and then a separate time on your computer? So the problem you've been experiencing might be related to that. That being said, I kicking you from a server shouldn't cause sign in issues. You should still be able to sign in.
  3. Valucre Discord 2.0

    If I am not contacted with the required information, I will ignore your DM/PM.
  4. [Ravenspire] Finally.

    The titan's gaze rests firmly on Helena as he takes his final step toward her. A respectable distance separates them, physically. However the whims of his mind snake out, slithering through the air as they encroach into her personal space. For the moment, however, his interest isn't in bending her flesh but rather in scoping out her mind. Superficial thoughts and emotions, hidden below the surface physically, radiate out like excess heat. His taste buds ignite with bland apathy, spicy judgment, savory determination, salty regrets, and bitter sorrows. It seems that she is a dish without an ounce of sweetness, devoid of contentment and happiness. While the tasting is brief and never probes to any meaningful level, it clearly identifies just what kind of pathetic creature she is. "I dare say," he pauses, his eyes closing as the flavors continue to roll across his palette. His gaze only returning to her as he speaks again, "of all of the gods' innumerous creatures that I have had the great pleasure of meeting you..." His lips slowly curl into a smirk as the words roll from his tongue "You are by far the most unfortunate and miserable." Whims and desires withdraw from around her, confining themselves within the shell of his body. In the same moment he walks to her left, pulls out a chair, and sits next to her. "I of course do not pity you for that." His left leg crosses over his right as his hands fold over his elevated knee. "I actually envy you. I imagine that being forged from such hardships must make one incredibly... resilient." His head cants to the side, his gaze works back to her as he extends his right hand across the distance. "I am... hmm. Oh, I am Trevor. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He pauses just long enough for her to respond, his hand withdrawing as he shifts in his seat to better face her. Both hands raise up revealing empty palms, the smile on his face growing into something sardonic. "Do you like games, I have a wonderful one we can play."
  5. Confession Thread

    I have become increasingly aware of the fact that there is a total lack of chemistry between most people and myself. In fact, my interest in other people has become so nuanced that I suspect I've reached a point where I won't develop chemistry with most people. I strictly write with you. I strictly work with you. I strictly talk to you. I strictly listen to you. I mostly ignore you. I've either ascended to some kind of enlightened state of mind, or my life and emotions have become so compartmentalized that I'm incapable of creating deeper connections. I guess, maybe what I'm confessing is that, I really have no idea who I am becoming and I'm not sure if I like that person or not.
  6. Life

    Nope, I can't say that I have. However, I also don't have a college degree and my particular form of employment is complete chaos.
  7. [Ravenspire] Finally.

    Vivian sat at his side, as any good ornament should, largely ignored. Perched at the bar, he had turned to people watch. A glass of red wine swirls about in his hand, releasing pent fragrances, as he identifies a few familiar faces. There was of course that dreadful vampyre thing, that he had met in passing some years ago. Another woman who carries with her the scent of an outsider, similar to the castle he had trespassed in. Another woman, who he vaguely recalls, enters. He might have invited her to tea once... or was it to dance?. "Dreadful, just dreadful, no Tullins to stalk." There wasn't a clear reason as to why he had expected Randy to be here, outside the fact that they both shared a common interest in the lavish and extravagant. Of course, the real prize would have been Michael, whose existence was a mystery inspired by Randy. "Vivian, dear. Don't you think it is a bit queer that most of my acquaintances are female?" Vivian doesn't respond, rather she remains fixated on a space beyond the walls of the hall, probably lost in her own thoughts. The titan turns toward her, the back of his hand running down her cheek. "Alegrar el amor." The words are a whisper that travel into one ear and out the other. Farkis visage twists with disdain, his frustration growing. "I see. Well then, if that's how it is going to be." Reaching back, he sets the wine glass on the counter before producing from his pocket a hinged velvet covered box. "Why don't you be a good girl and find our hostess to give her a present befitting an Empress?" Vivian's head turns as the box is shoved into her hands. She clasps it, gingerly, as two more tears rundown her cheek. "Please do remember to smile." The soft spoken words accompany his hand as he guides her from the seat. Her lips shudder and convulse for several seconds, before finally settling into a smile. "Oh, those teeth. Maybe... you should not smile?" Her lips pinch close, nearly vanishing. "Better, now off with you." Abigail couldn't explain the sensation that enthralls her. Whispers snake along her limbs and entwine with her hair, before penetrating her flesh and assaulting her mind. Although, by all accounts she could feel his hand brush against her skin and she could recall the moment that she was ripped from the alleyway, her body was not her own. Rather it was this Vivian's, a puppet of another, and she was bound within it. The whispers leave her feeling guilty and dirty, like mucous and grim coats skin. They move without regard to her privacy, slithering along her body before boring through her orifices. She can feel them slide down her throat, fill her lungs and gullet, saturating her existence with his whims. It was dream or maybe a nightmare, playing out in a tunneled field of view. She knew better though, she had to watch, because looking away was so much worse. Outside the peripherals of her view is the past playing in constant loop. One side is Laura's body separating like sheets of paper in the wind. On the other, two fingers pull Emily's eye from the socket. Yet something even worse lingers, something she had only caught in a glimpse. Somewhere within her mind is a still of the future. A future in which she pushes a dulled butter knife through her daughter's other eye. The man hadn't lied when he promised Emily that he'd return Abigail once he was done, much to Abigail's dismay. Vivian lazily glissades through the crowd, the box held in front of her. Her head turns from side to side as she looks for Leoa. A tremble runs across her fingers, causing the box to bounce and wiggle. The tremors pass, and her grip remains firm. Her mouth starts to part, her pupils dilate, her cheeks twitch. As her head moves to the other side, she fights to try to catch another glimpse of the one eyed girl. However, by the time her head returns to the left, the crowd has consumed her. Several more tears roll down her cheek, however her trek never ceases. Farkis abandons the bar, wine in hand. The edge of his jacket bunches, held in place as his fingers roam through a pocket. His trajectory isn't calculated, rather he wanders aimlessly. His steps, soft and near silent, are sluggish. The natural ambient chatter is an indistinguishable screech of inane prattle. Where was the juicy gossip that he so craves? The titan ceases, his eyes lighting up as his eyelids rise. The soft dark blue of his iride ignite. Red bleeds through until the disc is a bloody pool. Want rolls across him as a wave of fine pinpricks that bunch his skin into numerous mountains and valleys. A deluge of thoughts race and compete with one another, voices shouting across his mind for dominance. We could have a doll. A porcelain doll. Do you think she wants to play? What do you suppose she tastes like? So shiny and pretty. Dropping the wine glass on the tray of a passing waiter, Farkis stalks toward a corner. His attention held by the diamond among trash.
  8. It's another wedding! [interest check, yo]

    Just wanted to make sure that no one jumped to that "Oh god this kid is looking to start trouble" conclusion. Not that I'd ever start trouble.... probably
  9. It's another wedding! [interest check, yo]

    Farkis likes parties. Also, I'm pretty sure I told Karina that I was going to. Don't worry, I'm not there to cause problems. Just gossip like a school girl. Promise. <3
  10. [Ravenspire] Finally.

    Golden, crimson, and smalt swirl together as they circle around pinpoint pupils, the vibrant colors starkly contrasting the all consuming apertures. Multicolored swirls and specs vanish as they ascend the ring of his iride, hidden beneath a set of partially descended eyelids. The titan's half moon gaze rests on a translucent image of Terrenus that is superimposed over the background. "How dull." His hand flicks to the left, casting the image aside, as Orisia comes into view. He repeats the motion, causing the island nation to dissolve. His right hand raises, fingers bending inward, before extending out. Dozens of images populate the space above him. "Booooooorin...oh?" The same hand reaches out as he pinches at one of the images. The others fade into the background as the selected one grows to fill out his view. A cheshire grin worms its way across his visage. "Oh my, is this?" Farkis sits up, his hands clasping together in delight. "Oh joyous day!" Although the lethargy that had plagued his voice is gone, and the contours of his face speak of excitement, his eyes simply can't be bothered to open more. Rising from the couch, causing it to shatter, he advances on the picture and circles it. As he moves around it, it shifts to accommodate the new angle of view. "So many beautiful and delicious things." There is a giddiness to his voice that seems misplaced, a sound that doesn't quite match his expression. A finger bisects the picture, a beam of light radiates from its wake, causing the air to peel open. The background swings into the foreground, revealing row after row of jackets and shelf after shelf of dress pants. When was the last time he had a reason to dress up? How long had he waited, too weighed down with the mundanity of living? Truly there was no greater hardship than being burdened with the trifles of boredom. Although his natural instincts guide him to grey pinstripes, an event like this required something simple and elegant.... and a date. The titan pauses and his lips purse, the considerations of going stag versus abducting finding a date leave a series of fine lines around otherwise smooth features. "All proper gentlemen need a proper lady." The comment punctuates his decision as he begins to dress. Flat black dress loafers tap against the stone street as he treks toward a heap of bodies that huddle together. The footfalls cease a few feet from them, the titan's right hand lifts as his index finger starts to bounce through the air. "Am, stram, gram, pic et pic et colegram, bourre et bourre et ratatam, am stram..... gram." His finger settles on a middle aged woman with two children by her side. "Ah, Vivian... how you have let yourself go. It is delightful to see you again. Come along now, there is much to do." The woman remains silent as she blankly looks at the titan. "Vivian, we haven't the time for your games. We are already late and you are a mess. Now, let us go." His voice is a mix of urgency and annoyance, however concealed deeper within is something predatory. The woman's head lifts a little, her mouth opens to protest. Farkis' hand opens and then starts to close, before his fingers can finish moving they press against the flesh of the woman's face. His arm raises, lifting her higher from the ground so that she limply dangles by her neck. The two daughters stare at the void that their mother had occupied, stunned. As their jaws drop to scream, the titan places a finger to his lip. "Shhh." The sound stifles them. "I shall return Vivian to you shortly, once I no longer have use for her." "Please. sir... don't take our" as the child protests, the titan dismissively waves her away. Her skin and muscles separate from her bones and scatter about the alleyway, haphazardly tossed about like trash. The other daughter lurches back against the a dumpster, her feet frantically kicking into the ground as if to propel herself through its steel wall. With his prize held high, Farkis turns and begins to walk away from the scene. "Why... why you monster..... why god? This isn't fair." The whimpering cry reaches his ear, prompting him to stop and look back at her. "La vie est drôle comme ça, ma pêche." There is a sudden snap, as he turns to fully face the girl. "I almost forgot." The girl starts to hyperventilate as she tries to scrambles to her feet. "I need a present." His fingers wave toward him, as he motions for the child to approach. The girl finds her body moving against her will, her feet dragging along the ground as some preternatural force compels her toward him. His hand motions up and in response she lifts from the ground, only stopping once she is at his eye level. "Do not blink, I wouldn't want you to miss a thing." The command locks her eyes open as he reaches his index and thumb into her eye socket. The act is met with an unacceptable silence that would have only been appropriate if she wasn't conscious. The girl drops to the ground, clutching her face, her maw agape as she silently screams into the ground. Only the vaguest of hissing can be heard as air is forced from her lungs. Wildly rolling about on the ground, her remaining eye frantically searches for her mother and the perpetrator... but no one is there. "Trevor, I think we are running late." Arm in arm the couple walk into the hall. She wears a strapless black dress dotted with sequins, and a set of black leather high heels that puts her head just below his nose. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, revealing a pristine and blemish free face. Admittedly, she was a little plain for his tastes, but something was undoubtedly better than nothing. More importantly, she was the perfect compliment to him... something that made him prettier by comparison. His head shifts, sending golden brown locks of hair dancing to the side as his hand drops onto her head with a pat. "It is to be expected, we must be fashionably late, Vivian." He turns to break free from her grip, his fingers slipping down her exposed flesh before finally wrapping around her wrist. A few steps are taken backward, his smalt gaze working over her.... looking for imperfections. "Come now darling..." he turns and heads toward the bar, dragging her behind him. "It is time to mingle." As Vivivan shuffles along after him, a single tear runs down her cheek.
  11. What's yours is mine.

    The sound of rocks crushing together drags Ashton's attention from the carcass to beyond his shoulder. His gaze works its way down a hill and several dozen feet back before it finally settles on a trio of gargoyles merging together into a gore pile. Not too far from them a swordsmen sheaths his sword, his face speaks of disappointment. Ashton stands, Sle is swung across his right shoulder, as he turns and begins his descent toward Avvercus. Three at once huh? Fucking show off. A sudden drop in temperature accompanies a dark shadow that rolls across the ground as the air pressure rapidly drops. A breeze, light but chilled, sweeps along the curves of the hill before bending inward and swirling around the collection of dead gargoyles. Ashton pauses and looks up toward the sky as it continues to darken. "Cold front?" As he speaks a single droplet of water lands between his eyes. He blinks in reaction, a chill running through his body. A second later another and then another, and then another. A brief flash of light illuminates the innards of the clouds as a low rumbling reverberates off of the stone at their feet. Within a few moments of the downpour's inception Ashton's hair is waterlogged and flattened against his head and face. "Man... what is with this day?" The words are muttered as he adjusts his head to look back toward Avvercus. Although there is only 60 feet between them, the distance seems daunting in the deluge. "Hey you!" As he calls out, he waves his left arm to snag the other's attention. Of course with visibility rapidly dropping there was no telling what kind of monstrosity the redhead could be mistaken for.
  12. Hey Everybody

  13. It's another wedding! [interest check, yo]

    dis·cord ˈdiskôrd/ noun 1. disagreement between people.
  14. It's another wedding! [interest check, yo]

    I mentioned to @Aleksei but figured I'd bring it to your attention Mr. God Emperor President Pope King Lord @Alexei, I'll be dropping in. Not that I think anyone is particularly concerned with my presence, just figured it'd be nice to know you have growing interest.
  15. What's in your speakers, nukka?