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Everything posted by Mousia

  1. All of you are just bootiful. I love that you guys are so courageous. It's just awesome. And here I am, hiding behind a drawing on my hand.
  2. Mousia


    My eyes are blue with some green, I suppose. Brighter in direct light.Meh (photo).
  3. First Test: INFP Second Test 1.ENFJ 2. INFP 3. INFJ ~ Summary: The tests didn't give a conclusive answer, really. The reason why this is is because humans are complicated things. How I'm feeling in one second is completely different from what I'm feeling in the next second. Thus, my answers can never be truly accurate. Also, these results categorize people in ways that don't make sense. Humans beings have layers and, thus, cannot be correctly categorized without an in-depth understanding of these things. That being said, I hope this helps you in some way. Note: I do not hold the MBTI information in my signature to be completely true. It's just there so people can see some of who I am beforehand, I suppose.
  4. [Tag: Mikeal] "Thank you," the woman muttered thoughtlessly. It really was an instinct, especially when talking to strangers. "Oh yes. I've seen countless adverts for Ceron on the Internet and the pictures look just stunning. But I do have to agree with you on the length of the trip. It does seem especially long. I do suppose that it's quite far from all the hubub of cities, which is why the bus ride is so long. Personally, I've had to get out of my seat to stretch my legs twice." Sighing, she looked around. Lulls in conversation discouraged her slightly. As is she wasn't being a good partner to talk to. "So what do you do back home? I'm an editor." Casually, she assessed him and, within moments, had drawn some conclusions. Slightly muscular, but not overly so... Exercised regularly, but not just for leisure. For work as well. Very slight bags under the eyes meant a tiresome job. Depressing or boring. Hospital, funeral home, or office. But not an incredibly high-ranking position, because he wasn't wearing a suit and was going to Ceron rather than some other place that was less out of the way and more esteemed. In her long past of reading and writing and other literary passions, she'd done countless reports on Edgar Allan Poe's "Murder on the Rue Morgue" and other works involving Dupin, the frequently overlooked character which spawned the famous Sherlock Holmes. And she'd also studied many of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works as well, though she found them but boring replicas of Poe's original genius idea. Either way, the method was easy to pick up after a length of time, though it was never quite so accurate as in the books. Either that or she just didn't care as much. It wasn't her job, nor her passion, nor her creed. Just a hobby. Something to do when nothing else was available. Anyway, she liked it better when people told her. It was more...enlightening. The way people said things and did things opened so many more doors. That was a commonly overlooked thing in such stories. The psychology of it. Sure, it was well and good to have things figured out, but just the voices of people told stories. More stories than could be figured out just by showing off one's skills. It was always best to keep one's cards close to one's chest in those times. Jen never really saw an advantage to letting everyone know one's strengths and weaknesses right off the bat. But what did it matter. Those times were long gone. The world around her was tame. The worst that could happen to her was petty and silly. Or so she thought...
  5. Thais had grown up too. He was fairly tall and looked like a man proper. With pitch black hair and even darker eyes, he seemed to always have sadness in his gaze. The deep purple bags under his eyes just made that idea seem all the more plausible. With no parents of siblings to speak of, the boy seemed to be alone almost constantly, though he did have a mentor for a while and trained with him sometimes until he became a full assassin. After that, he just became all the more reclusive and apathetic. It was almost as if he was bored to some degree. Like he just couldn't be bothered to do anything. He just walked around and sat sometimes and ate and slept for a few hours. Left alone to his thoughts, a few assassins doubted his sanity, for he rarely spoke but a few words. Not like Thais needed to. People moved out of the way when he approached and he didn't take or give. Leaning against the wall, the indifferent assassin looked up to see assassins milling about. "Tch." Look at them. Just going about their lives, oblivious to the fact that it's all pointless. It all ends and their work was for naught. It's like they're stupid or something. Like they busy themselves with silly work just to entertain the gods. Well, I'll have none of it. I don't care. But he saw Sophia through the crowd and quickly looked away. Damn it. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was stupid, the young woman always reminded him of his old happiness somehow.. Maybe it was the resilience or the bravery that made him hopeful, but he wanted to be around that again. He wanted to feel blissful, like a child. Stop. You've already seen the world's darkness. It's no use. Even the sun casts a shadow... And yet there was a small voice that protested. But...can't you see that...these people see the darkness and they don't care... They're strong enough to keep going, even without perfection.
  6. [Tag: Mikeal] As she listened to her music, Jen took a bottle of water out of her purse and drank some of it. Closing the bottle, she laid it in her lap and sat placidly, letting her mind wander. Suddenly, the bus gave a slight jerk as it went over a bump and the bottle fell out from her lap and onto the ground. Due to a turn shortly after, the bottle rolled under the seat next to her across the narrow isle. The man appeared to be sleeping, but she couldn't reach. Blasted seatbelts! For a little while, the woman appeared to be deliberating. To wake him or not to wake him. On the one hand, she didn't want to be rude and rouse him from his slumber. But on the other, she'd spent more money than she would have liked on that water (she still hated how they made one pay for the plastic) and she would be a little cross if it was wasted. There was about three fourths of it still in the bottle and it seemed to taunt her as it rolled around! Decision, decision, decision. She ground her teeth and made up her mind. She would be getting that water back... Sighing softly, the woman shifted over in her seat and prodded Mikeal lightly. Ever so lightly. Impatiently, she prodded him again, just a little harder. "Excuse me, sir, but I've clumsily dropped my bottle of water and it rolled under your seat. Don't suppose you'd be so kind as to get it for me..." She hoped he'd awoken and heard her, otherwise she'd be back at square one.
  7. (Did you want me to place her or are you saying that you did place her? Because I can't find where she is if it's the latter.)
  8. (I'll do Hellie and Zero now.) Both siblings were getting older. Helena had a few children, but they rarely saw her. When they did meet, it was usually a stiff affair. Asking how her outing went, stories about her scars, the like. But she and her children loved each other. They had an admiration for her mother, a strong woman who held herself up at the top of the assassin chain well into her years. Despite some of her most trusted assassins falling, she and her brother remained, leading with equal parts flame and ice. Over time, they siblings had grown close. They had always depended on each other. And with their ages forever ascending, they had to strengthen their regime for their children, at least to give them something. Both felt guilty for seeming to be never around. The least they could do was to build up a legacy of some sort. And hopefully they'd be grateful, the lot of them. Zero had grown into a man proper. He had never strayed from Kaethe romantically and had become colder and sneakier through the years, protecting her from the dangers that haunted all the assassins; she never really got substantially better at hand-to-hand. All the assassins below him who were younger of that had not known him in his earlier years thought of him as a cold, stoic man. He had a steel heart and a ruthless hand, not afraid of anything. And though one could speak to him and carry out a conversation and he seemed friendly enough, he was never really easy to attach to. He didn't like friends. And, gods forbid, someone challenged him, he would let them know within a few minutes that he would not go easy on someone who claimed to be his ally. The only people he trusted were those belonging to his own family. Helena, on the other had, had grown fiery and proud over the years. With her stone-cold brother to enforce her word, she made a great deal of enemies, though she was loyal and true to those she cared about most. Her warmth burned some and made others thrive. It was a simple game of chance. Kind of like that fateful day... The pair often fought together and did missions in unison, for they had both grown exceptionally paranoid through time's tests. In town, they hunted down a small-time politician. Ah, how they hated him. He was in favor of just killing every suspected assassin on sight. While they would get a lot of assassins, it would cause much unnecessary death of civilians. So they went to take him out. Silently, silently, silently... No. The man hired some great guards, that was for sure. A few saw the pair from the corners of their eyes and immediately took action. What happened after that was a bit of a blur, but there was much blood and little of it was assassin blood. Until one signaled to a sniper (armed with bow and arrow, of course) to get Helena in her back while she wasn't looking. And Zero, what with his keen eyes and cold, analytical ways, realized this. Mind working quickly, he leaped in front of the arrow, saving his sister. But the poisoned tip killed him almost instantly. And Helena felt him fall behind her. Turning quickly, she knelt down next to him, trying to feel his pulse. But then a sword went through her and she fell beside her brother. In her last dying instant, she laughed. "And so we both fall..." Love is the most prominent cause of death. Be warned.
  9. (What is CJ, short for, exactly? Because that's definitely not a Greek name...)
  10. (If Sophia is almost ten and is older than Thais, it's impossible for Circe to have died after Kal because Thais was already ten by then.)
  11. (Feel free to have weights be on the ship. It'd count as a personal possession, and most captains allow personal possessions on their ships.)
  12. Also, if you do decide to join, this is a semi-lit (sometimes more towards lit) RP, which means that you'd have to use proper grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. Just full disclosure.
  13. What I was trying to say (I tried and failed, unfortunately; so sorry) was that at least some of the population would have to want to reproduce and that it was no selfish to want that, as someone before me stated. I really don't think it's my business to comment on some else's choices or sexuality of whatever that is causing them not to reproduce. The point of my comment was simply to say that it's not selfish to want children. It's natural. But not everyone wants that. And that's okay. With the population the way it is and death rates the way they are, it'd be foolish for everyone to reproduce. Sorry if I seem insensitive or anything. I don't mean that at all. I'm just trying to add my two cents and, admittedly, having been wording things quite poorly.
  14. It's a natural instinct for animals to reproduce. It's not selfish, it's biology. Humans are more complicated than most animals, but the instinct should always be there in at least part of the population. Otherwise, it'd die out. EDIT: I'm not a biology/human nature expert. Don't quote me on it. Just my opinion.
  15. ( Good luck!) It was a dark and stormy night... Scratch that, actually. It was a pretty sunny day. It was a sunny day when she died. So ironic. Almost comical. "Son... Could you be bothered to fetch me some water?" Her voice was frail and shaky. It was almost nonexistent. But he had been trained to hear. The boy, only ten at the time, pumped water from the well obediently and brought some in a bowl to his sickly mother. Careful not to spill the water, he went back into their little shed. Kal's body was limp and lifeless, drooping all over the bed. Dropping the wooden bowl, the boy rushed to his mother. "Mama! Wake up, mama!" But she didn't wake, didn't stir. Frantically, the boy reached for the bowl of water and tipped the last few drops into her mouth, willing her to suddenly swallow. "Mama...," he sobbed. "Mama..." Face contorted with an ugly sob, he hugged the woman that was close, crying into her hair like he used to. She still smelled alive... She still smelled like sadness...
  16. Jen stuffed her medium-sized tie-dyed bag into the luggage compartment along with the rest and climbed onto the bus. Not many would have noticed her, really. Most everything having to do with her appearance was just plain average. Sitting down near the center of the bus, she smiled gleefully as the bus began to move. Although it was a slow journey what with all the rain and smog clouding the driver's vision, the nasty weather eventually cleared and the driver announced that there were about three hours remaining. Picking up her purse, the woman walked up and down the isle a few times to stretch her aching legs and sat back down next to a poor woman that had obviously not gotten enough sleep. She snored in her seat and leaned against the window, though her head often slipped on the glass that was slick with condensation from the humidity outside. Sticking earbuds into her ear, the brunette began to listen to a playlist of her favorite soundtracks from TV shows or movies. Many were instrumental, thought a few were not. She really had no particular taste in music. As long as she could find a beat to move to or a message to carry, it was okay with her. Perhaps that translated well into her adaptable nature. She was nearly always smiling or finding the good in things. Despite her habit of having deeply set resentment of people after they'd wronged her or some such thing, she generally trusted openly and went out on a limb for people. Probably because, after so many years with her nose in a book almost constantly, separating the very tangible dangers of trusting too much in real life and the fun thrills of fantasy had grown more difficult as the lines between them blurred. Looking out the window, the woman sighed. As much as she liked reading, doing so in a moving vehicle gave her nausea and vertigo. Unfortunately, there seemed to be poor phone reception and no wifi in the area, so there were no virtual things to distract her. Which left only her thoughts. Her thoughts were dangerous things, she'd learned. They'd come up with monstrosities that she hated just to think about. They'd created the things that made her cheeks go red with embarrassment. And so she kept them carefully checked, despite the threats of her creative mindset taking over and letting all of them run free. So she just watched as all the green fields and forests and rocky hills passed by at what seemed to be an impossible speed. And she thought on that for a while as her voice settled deep into her throat in sleep and her mind began to empty with a strange peace that she was unaware of at the time.
  17. Character tracker... Goals get rid of slight writer's block find inspiration make friends have fun on holiday Accomplishments got on bus to Ceron Equipment/Possesions tie-dye suitcaseclothing hairdryer laptop and charger several novels to be edited nailpolish knitting needles and yarn purseumbrella iPod and earbuds wallet with money, bus pass, and I.D. brownie pen and paper makeup razor plastic fork Relationships No information. Jennifer "Jen" Klein |: Dedicated Bibliophile :| |: Female :: 24 :| Roleplayed by Mousia Appearance Jen is a typical Caucasian woman. She has dark brown hair that is often worn down, light brown eyes, pale-ish skin, and an average stature and weight. Her eyebrows are shaped and she uses makeup, but has made no other major changes to her appearance, having had no "cosmetic procedures" done. The woman has never broken a bone or anything similar, giving her a strong bone structure. She used to play women's hockey in high school and college, as well as softball in college. She still plays dodge ball on Wednesdays after work. Her avid love of sports and being active has shaped her figure, as is easily imaginable. Personality Jen is the type of person to remain active and fit, but that is not the center of her life. The woman actually prefers a nice cup of tea on a chilly day and huddling to herself in an armchair with a good novel in hand. Due to this passion for literature, she's an editor-in-training at a small publishing office with slow-by-steady business. Personally, she is quite the bibiophile, as anyone with half a brain would discover upon meeting her. She always have a book in hand, on her mind, or on her lips. That is to say, the only times Jen isn't directly relating to books is when she's sleeping. Even in times when it would seem inappropriate, Jen is relating an experience to something she'd read. Hard to avoid, with the sheer amount of things that had caught hold of her attention through choice or through trade. It doesn't bother her, though. Not many things do. History Her life as a child was a good one, though they often lived paycheck to paycheck, so to speak. She learned to read and write at an early age and has been focused solely on language from that time. While she was good at school and academics in general, her true passion had always been in literature. She had two older brothers, Robert (oldest) and Jacob (middle). They got her into sports - principally hockey. There she excelled and her standing with her brothers was good. As for her parents... Her fathers were Lucas and Wendel Klein. All three of the children were biologically related to one father or the other and were birthed by a surrogate who was very kind but had no means to mother them or otherwise be a part of their lives. Jen's own biological father was Wendel Klein, but she had no favorite. After attending a well-known college, she went her own way to live in a city far from where she was born and raised. There, she began her life as an editor and found her place. She does still maintain a healthy relationship with her brothers and fathers. She had begun a novel of her own about a man who discovers an Alice in Wonderland-type rabbit hole (which, admittedly, wasn't coming along as quickly as she had hoped) when she decided that a vacation was in order. While Jen is usually not the type to take vacations, she was told by her mentor that taking some time off could improve her performance. The adverts for Ceron kept popping up on her computer and, being easily persuaded by the hype, she decided on that as an appropriate destination. Other Nothing outstanding at the moment. The Good Skills [ photographic memory - fit and active - quick-witted ] Personality [ patient - fun-loving - hardworking ] Likes [ books - tea - comfort ] Other [ none ] The Bad Skills [ withholding truth - time management - poker face ] Personality [ fearful - controlling - resentful ] Dislikes [ incomplete things - brats - those born wealthy ] Fears [ fires (pyrophobic) - water (hydrophobic) ] Other [ none ] Permissions and Limits For context, in this roleplay your character may go through some changes as they have to try and survive Ceron. Ceron is a dark fantasy world. Throughout the roleplay, your character will come across situations where the world will have a residual effect and influence your character. Your character may change whether it’s an appearance, an ability, or turning into some sort of monster/monstrosity. Just keep in mind that none of these things will likely benefit your character. They’ll be consequences from their stay in Ceron. It’s all part of the horror, after all! Permissions [ I am alright with most changes to her character, but I wouldn't like to by notified and checked-with first. But I'm easygoing. ] Limits [ I would like for Jen to maintain at least a bit of her morality in a sense that she has the capability to be horrified, scared, and emotional as normal. Other than that, I'm all for giving her multiple personalities or anything you could come up with. As for her body... I'd prefer a humanoid type of look and an ability to speak, but I'm okay with a wide variety of things. ] Events [ So much win right here. But yes. If those could be PMed to me, it'd be great. ]
  18. (I'm okay with that. Kal would go first, right?)
  19. Lyra chuckled slightly at the comment. "Nah. Reminds me of home to much. Reminds me why I left." She shrugged a little and looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps she was showing an emotion other than anger? Perhaps she was keeping herself from crying? Or perhaps she was just looking up in her faith. It didn't always come up, but it was a part of her. And while one could call her foolish for clinging onto her beliefs, she would brush it off, though not without noting who it was. "I ain't no sentimental crybaby, I'll tell ya." She paused a short while, hesitating. "But if I see another damned purplebelly, I'll gut 'em at the first chance," she murmured softly.
  20. Zero, casually slipping away from the group, tip-toed into the cave. Just one last glance at Kaethe before he had to go. Every skilled, able-bodied man was required to go. And women could choose. But generally, they chose to go if not attached to a man or child who had to stay. "Hey...," he started hesitantly. Kaethe was prone to mood swings, he knew. Quite...prone... Helena looked at Aetios, eyes drooping with fatigue. "Fine. And you?" She raised her eyebrows slightly, though she retained the tired expression. She hadn't gotten a good sleep for a while, since the baby's kicks kept waking her and morning sickness kept her from getting sleep into the morning. It was a sad time, but she bore the weight with dignity. Kind of... (So uninspired. Sorry. And no. Not dead yet.)
  21. As much as I'd like to say I believe in love at first sight, I really can't make that stretch. I'm the kind of person to always give and get nothing in return, so I guess that's my cold heart talking, but my idea of love is a mutual thing, otherwise I see it as infatuation or a creepy obsession. Just much two cents.
  22. "Don't worry about it." Even when the words were passive, her voice made them an order. Perhaps it was her upbringing on an unforgiving world with a passionate hatred toward half the 'verse, perhaps it was just her position of authority. Or...perhaps it was neither. Perhaps she liked to see people grind their teeth and struggle under her big, black boot... NO! Not again... She wouldn't slip into those thought again. She wouldn't let her brief sanity be stained by sadistic thoughts of torture. But she would get back at the Alliance. That was her greatest weakness, wasn't it? She just couldn't be satisfied to let a sleeping dog lie. No. She had to be a part of it. She had to have the last word. Perhaps that was what made her bark out orders like some people talked about the weather... "And ya don't have t' treat me like a baby. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I sure am smart enough to tell when my crew's not tellin' me the honest to God truth o' the matter. And I swear that I ain't gonna let'cha go without a spacin' less you let me know the truth, the whole truth, and nothin' but the truth." She remembered reading that in some old, old text, but had long forgotten what it was from. Oh well. It still sounded fine. "Let me tell ya somethin', boy. I'm a nice girl. I really am. I give y'all jobs an' shelter an' food. And I like you, boy. You're a good deputy to my sheriff." She paused to let what she had said sink in. "But if you, even for a second, think that I'm gonna do well with the lies you tell to keep my ego in check, then you're gonna be awful sorry. My ego's my business, not yers. Y'understand? "'sides, if you're gonna disobey me when I tell you to let the clipboard business go, ya might as well obey all the others, 'cause you don't want me to keep a clipboard o' yer offenses. We're clear." The last sentence was usually a question, but never with her. Never with Lyra. It was always an order. And one of finality. The matter would not be discussed further without hard punches or lashes being given. Looking around, she found the closest intercom and picked it up, speaking into the microphone. "Cap' Benjamin 'ere. New pilot's Jay, don't pull a gun 'less I say otherwise. Next stop is Lilac if you've got plans, but you shouldn't, 'cause I don't want to stay more than half an hour. 's all."
  23. No problem. We still have the deaths to go through. Is it too morbid to say that I'm excited for it? Anyway, what order are we going in? I think Kal would die first because she's already pretty sick.
  24. Aw... I'm sorry, Duss. We're here if you need to talk, though you may not want to. <3 Also, I will be less active due to all the things I have to do, but I don't think I can resist the forums for long. Just poke me if I'm needed - probably forgot.