-The Mythics RP-

[Blue Raptor]

Jordan Tay slid from the roof and fell beside the child, groaning as her knees hit the wet road. Dark night hid her form amidst the haze of shadowed smaug.
Blinded by the rush and flare of her beating heart, she clutched the child to her middle and crawled back. Voices buzzed ahead of the alley and the sounds pooled in her ears, unable to supass the adrenaline barrier guarding her mind.
No one seemed to take notice of the abrupt increase of the child's wailing, but she could see it's damp mouth hang loose, and she could feel saliva drip onto her wrists.
“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” she whispered, and raised her sturdy palm to the child's mouth. She stood and limped to the back of the alleyway.
The yelling dulled, but the child's sounds still vibrates against her chest. She swallowed, but it did nothing to clear her deaf ears.
Her face red, sweat gripped her clothing. She fumbled for the ladder, smacking bruised fingers against the steel bars as she repositioned the child, who shuddered with tears.
“Shh.” She said, but it was a half-hearted command. The cold steel seared her calluses as she pulled up on the ladder, and her wet boots slipped in unknown substance. Her jaw hit the bars, but she was not fazed by simple pain.
The child writhed.
Curse her for caring. The child didn't want a savior. It would have rathered dying in the god-forsaken streets.
She snagged the next rung and climbed, and her tight fingers slipped over the bars and stained red with rust.
The child jerked and cracked its skull against the steel. She could feel the vibrations echo through the rungs. “Everything sacred,” she cursed and pulled it close, feeling its small fingers twist into the middle of her loose shirt. “I'm saving you, pal, saving your blasted little life.”
Children never listen much to reason.
She gripped the roof top and lunged forward, feeling the grit of each worn shingle with careful consideration before giving it her weight. The child wailed.
“It's okay,” she said. Her bad leg ached. No one would search for them on the roof and she thought they were safe. Her hands shook. “It's okay.”
She pried the child from her torso and pushed her sleeve against its bleeding nose. It hiccuped with excited sobs. She pulled it closer and looked ahead at the rise of smoke. Screams no longer affected her numb ears, though she could see the child react with renewed sorrow at each unheard cry. She leaned against the slant of the roof and held the toddler.
Boredom pryed at her mind and she scoffed at her body. Her chest pulsed with heart beat, and her sore shoulders lay tight on the roof. If only she could calm herself. It was a rare thing to have utter control of her entire body. Now was one of the familiar instances where she sat and cursed herself for existing and for bearing the body of a coward.
The child wobbled in her lap and she wondered how loud it was crying. Her ears could not pick up on the slightest of sounds, overcome by the adrenaline rush. The blood pulsed in her temples, causing painful pressure. She lifted her stained fingers to the toddler's wet mouth and shook her head. “Quiet. Be quiet.”
Maybe she wasn't saying the words right. She couldn't remember how they felt on her tongue. She couldn't feel her tongue.
Water hit her cheek and she winced at the sight of rain, then sat up.
“We have to go.” She said.
The child shook.
She looked into its eyes and leaned forward so that they were inches apart. “Please be quiet.” She would pay to see such a request stated in a more condescending tone.
“Goodness.” She leaned back and shrugged her shoulders. “Be quiet.”
They never listen. Toddlers are unreasonable. Some folks found sympathy towards the sort of creatures that didn't bear the mental capacity to figure out what they must submit to in order to save their skin. Some folks called that ‘innocence.’ She wasn't sure she had ever bore such a title, and she wasn't confident in saying she had ever been called innocent. If she had, then the sayer would have eaten and chocked and died on his words.
If she had been like this child when she was young, she would have died.
But to each their own.
Perhaps someday the child could conjure up some gratitude.
She stood and shifted the toddler to her hip. Its mouth opened in mid-cry.
“Quiet.”
Words. Curse the words. She hated remembering sacred words.
Rain splattered down. The child blubbered.
“Shut up.”
There.
She could remember that one.

Look at all those pArAgRaFs. Only for you, Kayway, only for you.

Dude it's been so long. I'm sorry if this is choppy, but it really has been so long since I've written in this style. But I am very excited to get back into the swing of things

Bruh, okay, I did not see that one coming.

Y’all, BRM twisted all of my expectations and flipping just adopted a child.

 

[Isabella7Storm5]

Isa, I don't think I've ever seen you RP before, this is really good

Thank you , I've never really RPed a RP of this scale and talent before but i write a lot.

 

[-Shade-]

@RDchicken99, what are your plans for Vhanya?

 

[-Kiwi-]

Accepted!

Alayna set down her water glass after taking a long quaff from it.
The day was only half over, and she was already tired and ready for bed. She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and rubbed them as she leaned over the counter. She was only allowing herself to do this because the bakery was currently vacant. The morning rush was finally over and all of the stragglers has gone, taking about half of the work she’d spent last night working on. Her “too tired to care” mood she called it. Fortunately one of her friends were supposed to stop by today, so hopefully that would raise her mood rather than make her more irritable, because honestly? It could go either way.
Layna finally sat up and absently started wiping down the counter she’d been leaned over. Cleaning while working was a habit she was proud of, really, though right now she wasn’t thinking much of it. She leaned over to pull a basket out of the display case in front of her that was emptied of the rolls that had been in it and set it in the back as she pondered what she’d do that night. She’d have to get tomorrow’s baking done before sunset, and she planned on making pretzels. She didn’t want to do anything after that, just sleep.
She glanced out the window expectantly, wondering at exactly what time he planned on showing up.

A tall man moseyed his way down the rocky streets, his hands in his pockets.
Can’t be too late.
Wilroc was glad the streets had emptied out as little. It wasn’t pleasant having your boot slip into horse crap when there’s no room to move out of the way.
Will eventually made it to the solid looking wood cabin that was his good friend Alayna’s home. He stepped up to the door, giving it a few brisk knocks.

(Geeze learning to write people is harder than I thought)

 

[-Kiwi-]

Accepted!

Alayna set down her water glass after taking a long quaff from it.
The day was only half over, and she was already tired and ready for bed. She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and rubbed them as she leaned over the counter. She was only allowing herself to do this because the bakery was currently vacant. The morning rush was finally over and all of the stragglers has gone, taking about half of the work she’d spent last night working on. Her “too tired to care” mood she called it. Fortunately one of her friends were supposed to stop by today, so hopefully that would raise her mood rather than make her more irritable, because honestly? It could go either way.
Layna finally sat up and absently started wiping down the counter she’d been leaned over. Cleaning while working was a habit she was proud of, really, though right now she wasn’t thinking much of it. She leaned over to pull a basket out of the display case in front of her that was emptied of the rolls that had been in it and set it in the back as she pondered what she’d do that night. She’d have to get tomorrow’s baking done before sunset, and she planned on making pretzels. She didn’t want to do anything after that, just sleep.
She glanced out the window expectantly, wondering at exactly what time he planned on showing up.

For real. That's why I'm not gonna make a secondary antagonist until after I see where this is going otherwise I am just gonna make a MESS

(Y'all ever hit the freaking power button on your computer trying to use the backspace key? God I hate Chromebooks, the layout is so lazy. Just be trying to type, all of the sudden your computer's like "GOODBYE. *dies*")

Jordan Tay slid from the roof and fell beside the child, groaning as her knees hit the wet road. Dark night hid her form amidst the haze of shadowed smaug.
Blinded by the rush and flare of her beating heart, she clutched the child to her middle and crawled back. Voices buzzed ahead of the alley and the sounds pooled in her ears, unable to supass the adrenaline barrier guarding her mind.
No one seemed to take notice of the abrupt increase of the child's wailing, but she could see it's damp mouth hang loose, and she could feel saliva drip onto her wrists.
“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” she whispered, and raised her sturdy palm to the child's mouth. She stood and limped to the back of the alleyway.
The yelling dulled, but the child's sounds still vibrates against her chest. She swallowed, but it did nothing to clear her deaf ears.
Her face red, sweat gripped her clothing. She fumbled for the ladder, smacking bruised fingers against the steel bars as she repositioned the child, who shuddered with tears.
“Shh.” She said, but it was a half-hearted command. The cold steel seared her calluses as she pulled up on the ladder, and her wet boots slipped in unknown substance. Her jaw hit the bars, but she was not fazed by simple pain.
The child writhed.
Curse her for caring. The child didn't want a savior. It would have rathered dying in the god-forsaken streets.
She snagged the next rung and climbed, and her tight fingers slipped over the bars and stained red with rust.
The child jerked and cracked its skull against the steel. She could feel the vibrations echo through the rungs. “Everything sacred,” she cursed and pulled it close, feeling its small fingers twist into the middle of her loose shirt. “I'm saving you, pal, saving your blasted little life.”
Children never listen much to reason.
She gripped the roof top and lunged forward, feeling the grit of each worn shingle with careful consideration before giving it her weight. The child wailed.
“It's okay,” she said. Her bad leg ached. No one would search for them on the roof and she thought they were safe. Her hands shook. “It's okay.”
She pried the child from her torso and pushed her sleeve against its bleeding nose. It hiccuped with excited sobs. She pulled it closer and looked ahead at the rise of smoke. Screams no longer affected her numb ears, though she could see the child react with renewed sorrow at each unheard cry. She leaned against the slant of the roof and held the toddler.
Boredom pryed at her mind and she scoffed at her body. Her chest pulsed with heart beat, and her sore shoulders lay tight on the roof. If only she could calm herself. It was a rare thing to have utter control of her entire body. Now was one of the familiar instances where she sat and cursed herself for existing and for bearing the body of a coward.
The child wobbled in her lap and she wondered how loud it was crying. Her ears could not pick up on the slightest of sounds, overcome by the adrenaline rush. The blood pulsed in her temples, causing painful pressure. She lifted her stained fingers to the toddler's wet mouth and shook her head. “Quiet. Be quiet.”
Maybe she wasn't saying the words right. She couldn't remember how they felt on her tongue. She couldn't feel her tongue.
Water hit her cheek and she winced at the sight of rain, then sat up.
“We have to go.” She said.
The child shook.
She looked into its eyes and leaned forward so that they were inches apart. “Please be quiet.” She would pay to see such a request stated in a more condescending tone.
“Goodness.” She leaned back and shrugged her shoulders. “Be quiet.”
They never listen. Toddlers are unreasonable. Some folks found sympathy towards the sort of creatures that didn't bear the mental capacity to figure out what they must submit to in order to save their skin. Some folks called that ‘innocence.’ She wasn't sure she had ever bore such a title, and she wasn't confident in saying she had ever been called innocent. If she had, then the sayer would have eaten and chocked and died on his words.
If she had been like this child when she was young, she would have died.
But to each their own.
Perhaps someday the child could conjure up some gratitude.
She stood and shifted the toddler to her hip. Its mouth opened in mid-cry.
“Quiet.”
Words. Curse the words. She hated remembering sacred words.
Rain splattered down. The child blubbered.
“Shut up.”
There.
She could remember that one.

Look at all those pArAgRaFs. Only for you, Kayway, only for you.

Dude it's been so long. I'm sorry if this is choppy, but it really has been so long since I've written in this style. But I am very excited to get back into the swing of things

*squints* BEAUTIFUL

 

[-Shade-]

A tall man moseyed his way down the rocky streets, his hands in his pockets.
Can’t be too late.
Wilroc was glad the streets had emptied out as little. It wasn’t pleasant having your boot slip into horse crap when there’s no room to move out of the way.
Will eventually made it to the solid looking wood cabin that was his good friend Alayna’s home. He stepped up to the door, giving it a few brisk knocks.

(Geeze learning to write people is harder than I thought)

@Blue Raptor

 

[_-Captain BRM-_]

Dude, I couldn't have anticipated a better reaction legit dyiiiing

I'll fix it ILL FIX IT

 

[RDchicken99]

@RDchicken99, what are your plans for Vhanya?

I’m writing an intro for her right now, she‘ll be in Pirate’s Cove!

 

[RDchicken99]

Jordan Tay slid from the roof and fell beside the child, groaning as her knees hit the wet road. Dark night hid her form amidst the haze of shadowed smaug.
Blinded by the rush and flare of her beating heart, she clutched the child to her middle and crawled back. Voices buzzed ahead of the alley and the sounds pooled in her ears, unable to supass the adrenaline barrier guarding her mind.
No one seemed to take notice of the abrupt increase of the child's wailing, but she could see it's damp mouth hang loose, and she could feel saliva drip onto her wrists.
“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” she whispered, and raised her sturdy palm to the child's mouth. She stood and limped to the back of the alleyway.
The yelling dulled, but the child's sounds still vibrates against her chest. She swallowed, but it did nothing to clear her deaf ears.
Her face red, sweat gripped her clothing. She fumbled for the ladder, smacking bruised fingers against the steel bars as she repositioned the child, who shuddered with tears.
“Shh.” She said, but it was a half-hearted command. The cold steel seared her calluses as she pulled up on the ladder, and her wet boots slipped in unknown substance. Her jaw hit the bars, but she was not fazed by simple pain.
The child writhed.
Curse her for caring. The child didn't want a savior. It would have rathered dying in the god-forsaken streets.
She snagged the next rung and climbed, and her tight fingers slipped over the bars and stained red with rust.
The child jerked and cracked its skull against the steel. She could feel the vibrations echo through the rungs. “Everything sacred,” she cursed and pulled it close, feeling its small fingers twist into the middle of her loose shirt. “I'm saving you, pal, saving your blasted little life.”
Children never listen much to reason.
She gripped the roof top and lunged forward, feeling the grit of each worn shingle with careful consideration before giving it her weight. The child wailed.
“It's okay,” she said. Her bad leg ached. No one would search for them on the roof and she thought they were safe. Her hands shook. “It's okay.”
She pried the child from her torso and pushed her sleeve against its bleeding nose. It hiccuped with excited sobs. She pulled it closer and looked ahead at the rise of smoke. Screams no longer affected her numb ears, though she could see the child react with renewed sorrow at each unheard cry. She leaned against the slant of the roof and held the toddler.
Boredom pryed at her mind and she scoffed at her body. Her chest pulsed with heart beat, and her sore shoulders lay tight on the roof. If only she could calm herself. It was a rare thing to have utter control of her entire body. Now was one of the familiar instances where she sat and cursed herself for existing and for bearing the body of a coward.
The child wobbled in her lap and she wondered how loud it was crying. Her ears could not pick up on the slightest of sounds, overcome by the adrenaline rush. The blood pulsed in her temples, causing painful pressure. She lifted her stained fingers to the toddler's wet mouth and shook her head. “Quiet. Be quiet.”
Maybe she wasn't saying the words right. She couldn't remember how they felt on her tongue. She couldn't feel her tongue.
Water hit her cheek and she winced at the sight of rain, then sat up.
“We have to go.” She said.
The child shook.
She looked into its eyes and leaned forward so that they were inches apart. “Please be quiet.” She would pay to see such a request stated in a more condescending tone.
“Goodness.” She leaned back and shrugged her shoulders. “Be quiet.”
They never listen. Toddlers are unreasonable. Some folks found sympathy towards the sort of creatures that didn't bear the mental capacity to figure out what they must submit to in order to save their skin. Some folks called that ‘innocence.’ She wasn't sure she had ever bore such a title, and she wasn't confident in saying she had ever been called innocent. If she had, then the sayer would have eaten and chocked and died on his words.
If she had been like this child when she was young, she would have died.
But to each their own.
Perhaps someday the child could conjure up some gratitude.
She stood and shifted the toddler to her hip. Its mouth opened in mid-cry.
“Quiet.”
Words. Curse the words. She hated remembering sacred words.
Rain splattered down. The child blubbered.
“Shut up.”
There.
She could remember that one.

(Look at all those pArAgRaFs. Only for you, Kayway, only for you.

Dude it's been so long. I'm sorry if this is choppy, but it really has been so long since I've written in this style. But I am very excited to get back into the swing of things )

This was *chef’s kiss* delightful!
My bespectacled self had to work double time to read it though

 

[_-Captain BRM-_]

This was *chef’s kiss* delightful!
My bespectacled self had to work double time to read it though

Aag, RD!I thought I fixed it!