RP Characters & Side Scenes

“Mom.” A five year old boy tugging on his mother’s skirts would normally have seemed endearing, but his mother certainly didn’t seem to think so.   “Not now, Max. Please just be quiet for a bit.” She looked downright anxious about it, really, already in enough of a frazzled state with the persistent evangelists at the door.   “But those people said you can see the face of God.”   “Max!” She cried. “Go back inside right now.”   One of the men at the door leaned down, “Are you interested in becoming better acquainted with the Lord, little boy?”   “No.” He said, “If God wanted-“   “You stay

“I’m FBI Agent Elizabeth Hayes.” Max stood one aisle down from the speaker, but his ears perked up at the sound of the word “Agent.” The FBI had been hunting him now for three years now, and still didn’t have a description, just a vague inkling of his targets and methods. He really had to start switching up his weapons selection and stop picking the best spots to assassinate the high rollers from. The smaller targets were much easier, but he’d gotten lazy, using his sniper skills more than once for those with higher security. Unfortunately, he couldn’t change his main clientele on principle, but he’d have to decline the

“We’ve earned those distribution rights!” The Duke of Leary said emphatically, smashing his fist against the conference table.   “That’s easy to say when you’re losing so much of your revenue to the bandits. If your guards aren’t sufficient to protect your people, it’s much to expect his highness to trust you with distribution of our most precious export.” The Duke of Evendem replied, coolly.   “How dare you!” The arguing that was going on wasn’t rare for these meetings. Discussing any kind of policy, but especially those related to trade and taxes, were somehow always heated. It was mostly petty bickering and old rivalries, so it didn’t truly matter

Lüc Fabyän, in his twelve years of life, had never once heard his mother raise her voice before. The yells of exertion and pain echoing down the hall from the birthing room were disconcerting, to say the least. Lüc’s father was not a fretful man. Lüc could hardly stop himself from watching the older man jitter about from one corner of the hall to another, bustling to his room as if to get something, only to jump out again with something nonsensical like a bookend in his hand, asking for the umpteenth time whether anything new had happened. Had Lüc been a bolder child, he would have asked the man

A soft, grey dress to match her steel grey eyes. A sturdy metal tiara shaped as if made with feathers. Rooms of white marble. Elegant black slippers that were easy to slip off, comfortable to dance in, and yet formal enough for any occasion. Loose, silky black locks neatly held back in an arrangement of braids decorated with white ribbons. And of course, her skin, a beautiful cape of white feathers tied onto her belt, ready to be wrapped around her shoulders when necessary. Nimue’s life was somehow made of its very lack of color. Not that she minded.   “This ball is being held in your honor, Nimue! You

“Stay. Still.”   “I’m not moving.” Was what Myrlieh wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut and let her mother rip the comb through her golden brown hair without complaint. It had never been useful to argue with her mother, and besides, having a smart mouth was Muirne’s job.   She glanced over at her sister straining her gold-speckled blue eyes to catch a glimpse of the older girl without turning her head. Sure enough, Muirne knew what she was thinking. Her smirk said everything. Myrlieh pursed her lips and focused her gaze back straight forward. She kept her eyes carefully open. If her mother caught her, she’d

Jillian stood in the corner of the room, supervising the children coming to test the sims as part of their career day. With her rank as it was, certainly no one forced her to attend these things, but Jillian still remembered her first time sitting in a mech sim, the weird sense of exhilaration and certain purpose she’d felt as she’d run through the commands and sliced through her first, pixelated squid. And she’d gotten good at spotting the other kids at these events who felt the same. Some would find other passions, some would try and fail, some would hate it now and find their talent when thrust into

“Aemer!” Jack called to his daughter from the front entrance. “You have a guest.”   A muffled voice came screaming back from one of the simulation rooms, and Jack winced slightly. “IF IT’S THAT- THAT- THAT JERKASAUR JACOB,” Jack closed his eyes, knowing that if she was talking to anyone else any number of expletives would have come streaming out of her mouth instead of ‘jerkasaur,’ “TELL HIM TO GO AWAY. I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO TODAY THAN DEAL WITH HIS… JUNK FOR BRAINS.”   Jack sighed, and glanced over at his companions. Melissa Miles was an old friend from school, a former bioengineer and wife of a councilman.

Amelina sat stiffly at the little wooden table that served as her meeting table, desk, and dining table. With her father sitting across from her, the room was suffocatingly silent. Even the table was feeling uncomfortable. It kept creaking just to break up the silence floating in the air. She knew, because it never creaked unless the atmosphere was uncomfortable. Her father didn’t notice, though, just like he never noticed that the sundial refused to cast a shadow when he came by, or that the kettle took five times as long as a regular kettle to warm up when it had to serve him tea. Almost every piece of furniture

The prince came with an entourage. Once upon a time, that would’ve seemed perfectly normal to Amelina, but living on her own for five years, with only the governesses, her father, and the great wizard Egon to visit her, having people follow you around every moment of the day seemed tiresome. The tower hadn’t allowed anyone besides her to stay more than a couple nights, so even maids and servants had been out of the question. Now it was time to return to that life.   The princess was standing in front of the drawbridge she’d never been able to stand on in her best clothes, both doors flung open,

“Jack.” Nothing.   “Jack.” No reply. Thirty-six year old Albert Masterson was greeted with nothing more than the sound of furious typing occasionally being punctuated with pencil scratching against paper.   “Jack. Ross. Ford.” He said, raising his voice and speaking each syllable of his friend’s name with extra emphasis.   “‘M busy…” Finally came the mumbled reply. Well… he could see that.   Standing at the entrance of Jack’s very new fancy penthouse, he was starting to regret pushing his friend to accept it. Back when he’d been living in that crummy two-room hovel on the outskirts of the city, he simply hadn’t had enough space to be messy

Aumrienok’s mother practically broke down the door to his chambers, fury radiating from her claws to the tips of her horns. His servants glared at her disapprovingly. The servants were probably from better families than she was and they let her know it whenever she came by. She was nothing to them without her noble son. “Where is he?” She demanded from them.   “The prince has not been seen all day.” One servant said stiffly, looking down his nose at her, as if it was her fault that he was constantly missing and ignoring his duties as a prince of Hell. They probably thought it was.   “And you

The Day Before the First Race   Kill her. Kill her. It was hard to say if the dark whispers in her room were coming from outside or were only within Eun-Byul’s head, especially since she was equally hard-pressed to say if she was dreaming or not. The Rat felt frozen in place, more seeming to see her body than be a part of it. What do you have to lose, Eun-Byul? Kill her.   Her spirit or whatever it was that was dispassionately listening to these malevolent whispers seemed to ask, “What for? It’s more trouble than it’s worth. Min-Jee isn’t even the most powerful. Why should I kill

~There is no expression so terrifying on the human face as a smile which holds not a shred of joy.~ ​ The first impression Andromeda got of the girl known as “Kaylee” was: “She doesn’t look happy. She doesn’t look like she’s ever been happy.” It was an evaluation she quickly discovered to be totally and utterly accurate. For the first three months of her residence in the McAllister home, Kaylee did not speak a word. She had armed herself with a household knife and slept in the kitchen, much to the alarm of their cook/maid/handyman. During this entire time, not once did Drew stop talking to her, however, and

“Where are we going?” Kaylee’s voice was tinged heavily with impatience. Drew hadn’t been exactly forthcoming on the reason she was calling for their little “meeting.” Normally, she was quite content to barge into Kay’s room with no appointment, but great aplomb, so it was not only unexpected, she’d dare say downright alarming for Drew to insist that they meet outside after school today. It couldn’t have been her birthday, which was tomorrow, because the McAllisters had always celebrated birthdays with family parties. This year the party tomorrow would no doubt be larger than usual, because it was her 18th. In just a few short months, she would be graduating

~There is something about tragedy that makes us unable to tear our eyes away. Perhaps it is that the pain makes us feel alive. Or perhaps others’ loss reminds us of who we might have been.~​   “I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? IF YOU HAD GIVEN ME HALF AS MUCH AS I HAVE POURED INTO THIS RELATIONSHIP NONE OF THIS EVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED.”   Tick, tick, tick. The sound of the clock went unnoticed most of the time. It was a quiet clock, perpetually a little slow and rather ancient as things went. It hung from a wall with nice, floral wallpaper just imperceptibly

“I don’t know…” Some people chewed their nails when they were nervous. Ae-ra went the extra mile. She dug her teeth lightly into the tips of her fingers, dark eyes flitting back and forth. Her left hand was gripping a paper in her hand, but those wandering eyes of hers were alighting everywhere but the words on that paper. A closer look would reveal that the paper had been badly crinkled, clearly having been read over and over again. It appeared to be written in the thick, dark ink of an old calligraphy, each letter a tiny work of art in and of itself. The paper was equally telling, a

“Ahjussi. Ahjussi, are you okay?” Tae-Young cracked one eye open to see a young girl. She looked to be about five years old, her hair tied back in pigtails. She was wearing a sunny yellow backpack, and he was a little surprised she was bothering him all by herself. Ah, but then he had seen her around the neighborhood. She was the daughter of the Chungs, who lived down the road. The father had walked out on them a few months ago and the mom was adjusting to it. After helping the woman carry a heavy load of groceries home, he’d been invited to eat with them, and this girl

The Crane stood on one foot ankle-deep in the water of fountain feature, her eyes closed, face tilting towards the sun. The bubbling water of the fountain wasn’t reaching her, and the little droplets flicking onto her clothes didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. People who saw her were scooting past somewhat uncomfortably, trying not to pay too much attention to the strange woman communing with the sun in a fountain in the middle of the city. “Hey!” The voice didn’t register at first, and it was only until the policeman was leaning in front of her, scowling, that Yeon-Ah opened her eyes and seemed to notice the

Agni had been feeling restless and anxious, like there was some itch she needed to scratch. She did not like this feeling, as it was rather unusual for her. Her ground state was calm, peace, but she had been increasingly irritated lately. Her bondmate was nearing. That was the only explanation she could think of. Isolating herself more from the other dragons, she was lately finding herself in unusual places. This was just another such time. Following her strange compulsion, she settled herself in a large chamber in the monastery. She lay her head down and closed her eyes, but did not sleep. To her surprise, she heard footsteps approaching.

Narien’s mother, Saefi Leevr, was the daughter and only child of Nina and Briehn Leevr. Briehn was (well, is) a monk and direct descendant of Obren Mys’rah, first of the Arcane tamers. Nina was a wonderful woman who died while giving birth to Saefi, who came earlier than expected. Saefi was not the strongest of children, often getting ill very easily, but she was a cheerful one. She was a happy, bright, innocent child, who grew up very sheltered from the world, having never stepped outside the Temple of the Moon in Calidar. Her father loved her very much, but took his responsibilities as one of the People of Dragons

“I knew a girl once.” Narien said, the words rolling off of his tongue smoothly, his high-born accent making itself known as he spoke without pretense. Everything about it was different from how he usually spoke to other people. “Her name was Mauri, and she had a certain way of existing. It permeated her every movement and breath, this air as though the entire world were simply her toy and would move at her tiniest of whims. It was not that she couldn’t imagine anything bad happening to her, it was that she knew nothing bad would ever happen to her. And she knew it with such certainty that it

The boy had fought.   Jehan and Keenin were slave traders from Solona, and not low-level ones either. They’d fought a good number of people before. Strong people. But this boy was a mystery. When they’d broken into his room in the dead of night, he’d been awake, but he hadn’t panicked or screamed, or reached for anything. He’d simply hopped out of bed, watching them both with those disconcerting, pale eyes. Slowly, he’d moved towards the door, and that was when they’d pounced. He hadn’t defended himself the way they’d expected him to, either. The pampered only son of a high-ranking diplomat would have some training, of course, but

A man with dark hair and strong features sat calmly on a wooden chair in a circular, stone courtyard, the only sound that of crackling from the large bonfire not far in front of him. The stars were bright in the dark of the sky above, but Ambrogio had no eyes for them this night. As with every night, his heart was with the moon and his beloved Selene, even after all these years.   The look in his gleaming red eyes was sad tonight, though.   “Do you see, Selene?” He asked the moon, too quietly for any of those around him to hear. He spoke only to her,

He’d walked inside, waited, and the next thing he knew was staring down the large, majestic creature. It sat down in front of him, resting its head against its paws, and opened its mouth ever so slightly. Somewhat to his surprise, its voice was soft and quiet. Low, but oddly light and feminine. “Who are you?”   He opened his mouth, but stopped. Something in her tone of voice told him that she wasn’t just asking for his name and age. Her glowing white eyes stayed trained on his face, reading it impassively. The black-haired man stared back, trying to read her, instead. What did she want to hear? She

The forests of Wonderland had been relatively silent this past week, as if holding its breath, trying not to let the zombies fully infect its heart. So many people gone. The mad hatter gone missing, hundreds turned into zombies, and the rest trapped in those so called safe houses, it was like the whole world had gone mad. How… wonderful.   Most people had no idea what the Cheshire cat did in his spare time. Honestly speaking, he didn’t either. After all, you need to first know what you do in order to know what you did, and it was so inconvenient to bother knowing what you were actually doing.

Our story begins with one particular villain, who simply had the misfortune of picking the wrong pair of frogs to pick on. Or so he’d say, if anyone cared to ask.   The sound of splintering wood shattered all of Witch Doctor Facilier’s dreams of taking control of New Orleans, becoming rich beyond his wildest dreams, and most importantly, keeping the shadows from collecting on their debt. “NOOO! How am I ever gonna repay my debt!” He cried, as he fell to his knees, desperately grabbing the wood chips in his hands, but as the sound of low voices singing ominously to a heavy beat, he knew he was already

Kale liked rules. They were always so full of holes, sometimes it felt like they made the loopholes just for his benefit. Black dress shoes, button-up shirts, and ties that stuck to the colors royal purple, mint blue, or black. None of the rules said anything about not dressing like the opposite gender. So, as he stepped out of the black car and across the threshold of the prestigious academy, the boy known as Kahlia was smartly dressed in a loose, pastel pink shirt, with a thin black western tie, a short, black and grey plaid skirt, and high-heeled dress shoes with ankle straps. His nails were painted a pastel