Seeking Long term writers/friends.
Limits: Characters and players must be 18+ No, this doesn't indicate I am looking for lewd.
Pairing: Any
Post Length Min/Max: At least one paragraph.
Hello, my friends call me Matsu. I've been Roleplaying for over two decades while keeping a universe alive and sharing it with others since 1999. I'm a female and prefer long-term stories but am not opposed to short-term. I believe strongly in character-driven plots. And unlike most, I feel the only way to build a narrative that we both can enjoy, contribute to and grow off of requires our OCs to be chosen first. Concerning my "literacy," I tend to put out 4-17 paragraphs depending on my partners. I in no way expect anyone to match as Roleplay is not a competition but collaborative. I can provide a sample upon request if desired.
Feel free to post here if you're interested or shoot me a DM.
I will post a sample from a RP I am after I submit this.
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The jezebel's eyes tapered as she witnessed her son's mulling. Had her sermons gone unnoticed? Could it be he found one outside their race meriting such an encomium to be an effrontery? The title of Son and Daughter was not founded on genealogy but one's contributions. And few had suffered as much for their illustrious regime then that mer. Luckily for Ambroise, Samara would stow away such opinions, given she lacked firm enough ground to cast a reprimand. And being an astute lady, she wasn't one to chide off assumptions alone.
All such apprehension dissolved as the heifer went off to concur. Within his juvenile eyes was the pulsation of wisdom, edification that he had presumably been gleaned from his maternal figure. However, all such gesticulations of merriment wouldn't subsist for long. The sad realization of her query appeared to weigh heavily on the young chap. For the first time in his life, the heft of responsibility was placed on his bony shoulders. Soon he would come to terms with this nettlesome sensation. Nonetheless, for now, Ambroise would need to tread carefully.
Samara understood the aspiration to disperse empathy. It wouldn't take long for her chosen offspring to disappoint her. Nevertheless, one's need to appear virtuous can inflict great harm if misplaced. This disapproval wasn't concealed. No, she wanted the young man to behold it in all its connotations. Whether Ambroise was aware of it or not, he was being studied. She needed to translate his strengths and weaknesses and learn how to manipulate both best to bolster their house. A task, while critical, wasn't without a calculative risk.
While the boy writhed, the stony queen would stride back and forth. This movement likely intensified the palpable sense of dread. The once jovial atmosphere dispersed and encountered itself usurped by a hostile sensation. That aggressive aura was by design, a mode to further strain the chap and reckon his capabilities. In actuality, Samara wasn't entirely irate with the boy. She anticipated the charlie to behave childishly. Ambroise was a berk, an infant stumbling within a world he couldn't fathom.
Like all babes, he sustained himself on milk. His vision is incapable of glimpsing anything but black and white. But soon, he will fete on meat and observe as red and yellow materialized before his astigmatic peripherals. That repetitive stride continued throughout the totality of the lad's addresses—Samara's hands roosted above her rear perch while that spaded tail twitched with her stride. The act of tapping his fingers across his ribcage conveyed much. Not least of which was that the nincompoop had a pittance of wisdom. And while it was merely a seedling, it might one day blossom into something meritorious of appreciation.
Samara's knife ears hearkened to his final slew of words. That drivel was unremarkable and only additionally accentuated what she had deduced to be true. She'd then desist her steps and peer at the ninnyhammer she had for a son. Ambroise stood within the limelight of those binary sols of gold. The clangor of the metropolis went hushed as even the calls of the distant fowls succumbed to silence. The world beyond the two appeared increasingly distant, further highlighting a sense of isolation. Whether or not this was a tangible effect wasn't evident. But within Samara's mind, it was accurate enough of a descriptor.
A frown plastered itself across Samara's claret face. Meanwhile, she'd fortify her nerves and prepare to deliver a much-needed homily—a droplet of enlightenment that might help that before-mentioned kernel to sprout.
"Where was Claire when we stumbled? Not once, but twice. Where was she when our enemies beset us? Is it not her job to safeguard our people and protect the house's sanctity and interest? What good is a sword if it remains sheathed or absent? Of what value is a member who foregoes their obligations? The list of her transgression is not just limited to this day. No, it is built upon a foundation of delinquency, a pattern that predominantly has remained unchanged. Do you genuinely believe she is frantically wandering these streets and crying for your name? If so, how did she not gather to investigate that fire? Even I saw it from my little perch."
Samara turned to face the boy, stretching her talons as she motioned with them for the lad to come closer.
"Was it not her duty to investigate such a disturbance? You rushed, didn't you? And why was that? I expect it was curiosity intermingled with a desire to assist our people. Ambroise, my son, you have much to learn. Judgment shouldn't be carried out on one blundering alone. A wise ruler takes the entire picture into account. That is what separates us from the common folk. They live moment to moment, a luxury we can't enjoy. We must live for the future and consider a slew of variables. Each whisper, each push in and of itself, can manifest change. And change, while not intrinsically ill, can birth ruination. Absolutism and narrowness are pitfalls that claim countless victims. Chide not, my baby boy bleu, we will train your eyes to better perceive the world not as it wishes to be observed but how it functions."
Confidently, the ruby jezebel would retract the hand and toss her ashen mane back. That once frown dissolved and bent into a smile.
"You have disappointed me. I've entertained your outlook and will extract what I feel may be beneficial. However, no matter how erroneous, one must consider alternate viewpoints. Regardless of their position, everyone has at least a single grain of wisdom to impart. Nevertheless, make no mistake. If you pardon Claire now, her sins of tomorrow will be yours to bear. Such is the price of playing the chivalrous oaf. So, gallivant if you wish, but know that a guillotine is over your head. And at any time, it might snap. Everything you do moving forward will have consequences. It is, as I have said before. "Heavy is the crown." And yet many fools pang for it, oblivious of what such a station entails. Welcome to your new life. And the cost for building a better tomorrow for the nations is simple. Everything..."
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