.... ooc name: Greyer
.... current characters: Oleander + Anatole
.... how you found us: bookmark bar
.... your character's initial fight stats: assigned.
....a role play sample (200+ words):
from somehow here is gone;
She nestled into him first, taking him in just as he had with her. Comfort in the highest of forms. His eyes closed in momentary relief, a quick meditation. But, then, she perched along his spine and set her tongue across his neck, somewhere where he knew brown met white.
He blinked his eyes open again before settling back down, the right side of his mask in contact with the cool earth.
"You could teach me French."
His mask remained emotionless, his mind caught, for some reason or another, on wonder. French had always been his "other tongue" but no one had ever thought to explain it to him. He had always assumed it was based on where his ancestors had originally come from. Wicked Macieo's pumpkin at his shoulder didn't even faze him.
It took a few seconds more for him to drop the train of thought and come back around. A low grumble emitted from him, a sound meant to soothe and nothing more. The day was done, and he was here. With Wicked Macieo. And they were finally allowed a moment alone together.
"Ah, love," he crooned to her, a hint of a smile forming on his maw. "But, would you use it?" His left eye cracked open, only able to spy a sliver of her pale coat. "It'll take some practice..."
and finally a bit about your character...
Back here again because meds are kicking my butt, but all that means is that Adelard is trying not to get burnt out trying to keep Anatole in line.
.... current characters: Oleander + Anatole
.... how you found us: bookmark bar
.... your character's initial fight stats: assigned.
....a role play sample (200+ words):
from somehow here is gone;
She nestled into him first, taking him in just as he had with her. Comfort in the highest of forms. His eyes closed in momentary relief, a quick meditation. But, then, she perched along his spine and set her tongue across his neck, somewhere where he knew brown met white.
He blinked his eyes open again before settling back down, the right side of his mask in contact with the cool earth.
"You could teach me French."
His mask remained emotionless, his mind caught, for some reason or another, on wonder. French had always been his "other tongue" but no one had ever thought to explain it to him. He had always assumed it was based on where his ancestors had originally come from. Wicked Macieo's pumpkin at his shoulder didn't even faze him.
It took a few seconds more for him to drop the train of thought and come back around. A low grumble emitted from him, a sound meant to soothe and nothing more. The day was done, and he was here. With Wicked Macieo. And they were finally allowed a moment alone together.
"Ah, love," he crooned to her, a hint of a smile forming on his maw. "But, would you use it?" His left eye cracked open, only able to spy a sliver of her pale coat. "It'll take some practice..."
and finally a bit about your character...
Back here again because meds are kicking my butt, but all that means is that Adelard is trying not to get burnt out trying to keep Anatole in line.
