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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 7 2013, 11:07 PM (283 Views) | |
| Equestrianism | Sep 7 2013, 11:07 PM Post #1 |
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Newbie
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Username: Equestrianism Preferred Name: Nym Age: 20-something Years role-playing: Somewhere around 5-7ish Favorite Genre: Fantasy or drama, haha. As if there's not enough of that in real life. Least favorite genre: Anything that's solely comical without plot, character development, etc. Anything you’d like to add: Looking forward to getting into some roleplays with everyone. ![]() Role-playing Sample: Everything was grey; the rain pattering against the glass panes of the windows, tapping out a soothing rhythm to accompany the lilting strains of the guitar wafting through the house. The soft notes of a haunting melody slunk through the house, melancholy following in their wake. Even the dog, who had been sleeping soundly on her bed by the door, opened her eyes and lay in a state of seeming sadness. Eventually, she stood, following the sound of the artfully plucked strings up the stairs, past the guest room and into the master bedroom. She found her Master sitting on the floor, back against the bed, fingers idly picking out the soulful music. His eyes were raw and vulnerable, unspilled tears lurking just behind the thin veneer of calm and collected personality. If one had not known the man, one would not have noticed the subtle signs of anguish, but they were there. His eyes were dull and listless, his fingers, which usually moved so decisively over the instrument, coaxing the beautiful sounds out as if from a lover’s body were dragging, barely lifting from one string to the next. His spine curved so he slumped over his guitar, staring at the lacquered surface. No, if one had not known him, one would have thought he was merely concentrating or staring into space, or perhaps deep in thought. The dog nosed her way under his arm, resting her head on his lap, sensing in that peculiar way that animals do, that some part of him was in pain. He stopped abruptly, putting the guitar aside gently as he lifted her onto his lap and scratched behind her ears. “Hey, girl…” He mumbled affectionately, his voice soft and subdued. The dog whined in understanding. “Yeah, I know…” The two sat for a time, just the two of them, uninterrupted, their thoughts their own, listening to the quiet drumming of the rain. It was soothing to the man’s damaged nerves, helped the throbbing in his temples recede slightly and brought that elusive cobweb of tranquility floating down just barely within arms reach. But every time his fingertips brushed it, it danced away again, teasing his thin hold on his self-control. He eventually straightened, brought back to reality by the sound of the rain pounding harder against the windows, sounding – at least to his ears – like the despair that was threatening to overwhelm him. He sympathized with his creaky old house, groaning under the torrential downpour of water. Placing the guitar carefully on the bed, he picked up the dog. “Hungry, girlie?” The dog tilted her head to the side, as if considering his words. She licked his chin in response and he carried her down the stairs, putting her down in the kitchen as he reached into the pantry for the bag of dog food. Her ears perked considerably as she heard the sound of the cereal hitting the metal bowl and scampered over, burying her head in the food. He smiled sadly at her, somewhat comforted by the sense of normalcy. The house groaned again and his melancholy was back, magnified by the echo of the sounds in the house, the emptiness it had, the sombre feeling of complete emptiness that was reflected in the man’s heart and mind. For a moment, a thrilling but terrible fantasy gripped his mind, sent him spiraling into unconscious thought. He envisioned himself plummeting, falling, the wings he shouldn’t have had doing nothing to prevent or slow his descent. Eyelids sliding shut, he allowed himself to fall, letting the mantle of panic drop away to pool by his feel and then suddenly, he was no longer falling. The vision didn’t give way immediately as he opened his eyes; instead, it slowly dripped away, thicker than water, more sluggish, less clean. The feeling blinded him for a moment and he had the distinct impression that he should be wiping some unpleasant and slimy film from his eyes. He blinked and the film gave way, his sight normal once again. He breathed carefully, inhaling a breath, feeling the air slide through his body and into his lungs. The doorbell sounded and he jumped, shocked, his heart beating wildly out of control, his fingers trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. He waited a moment, the bell sounding again as he leaned on the counter, one hand pressed to his chest, trying to calm the frenetic pace of his heart. “I’m coming!” He called, composing himself as he reached the door. |
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The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep. | |
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| Dreamy Ideal | Sep 7 2013, 11:18 PM Post #2 |
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you can be king
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*Approved*** Your application looks great! Welcome to HV Nym! Go get into some trouble in the forums <3 If you ever have any questions or problems feel free to send me a message :3 |
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I wonder why it is I don't argue like this with anyone but you | |
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