*Hidden Nature* A Shapeshifting RP

What do you think about this rp?

  • Ordinary...

    Votes: 11 16.2%
  • Boring :(

    Votes: 11 16.2%
  • Totally Awesome!!!

    Votes: 46 67.6%

  • Total voters
    68
"I'm not fool enough to say I won't. But I will say, I have plenty to occupy my time while I'm here. So perhaps that will help. " Cicero said with some thought.
"Yes, perhaps it will. Usually one only starts to miss home when they've gotten used to everything." Islanzadi said and looked back to the sky as it gradually turned from pink to orange.
 
( Okay! Thanks for telling us.
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)
(Yep. Good job for not being like me and leaving for months at a time randomly.
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)
 
"So my melancholy is impending regardless?" Cicero asked curiously.
"Well, I wouldn't call it melancholy. It's just missing home, that's all. But technically, yes, probably. Depends on how quickly you get used to things." Islanzadi told him and shrugged slightly.
 
"Well, I wouldn't call it melancholy. It's just missing home, that's all. But technically, yes, probably. Depends on how quickly you get used to things." Islanzadi told him and shrugged slightly.

Cicero nodded as he looked to the sky again. He marveled at the color spectrum of the earth sunsets.
 
Cicero nodded as he looked to the sky again. He marveled at the color spectrum of the earth sunsets.
Islanzadi was silent for a few moments, but then tried to think of something else to say. She felt like she should continue the conversation, but nothing worth talking about came to mind. Besides, the silence was nice. She decided that if Cicero wanted to talk, he would, and silence wouldn't be indecent. Islanzadi continued to calmly observe the sky. She saw clouds in the distance, and wondered if the weather would soon change.

(Going off to bed, goodnight.)
 
Asclepius reached inside the enchanted briefcase for a few more items, setting them up on the rather grubby looking side table. Once he had the articles arranged, he flicked through the worn tome for the teleportation spell. Taking the book in one hand, he set his other to tracing the words while he went over the spell several times, rehearsing pronunciation and timing. He didn't want to end up inside the rock, or at the bottom of the ocean. When he was ready, he spoke the verses in a commanding tone, a script in the ancient draconic language, as the air crackled with energy. Suddenly, the air sucked into the space where he was standing with a pop, filling the vacuum, while he appeared just outside the entrance to his lair, a little ways off from the rocks marking the entrance. Peering about carefully, he looked for any new habitation in the vicinity, and, finding nothing of interest, he shifted into his large golden form. His body glittered brightly in the sun, the gemstones pressed into his scales catching the light and throwing it in rainbow beams refracted among the rocks and ice at the mountain peak. Shaking his head into a big body stretch, he flexed his wings gingerly, not having used them in quite a while. He almost felt the urge to roar in a territorial claim, but knew that, in this day and age, even in Romania the walls had ears. After a large cat-like yawn-stretch, he padded his way to the entrance, the rocks standing like sentinels over the opening, and themselves covered now by overgrowth.
 

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