Young Writers Society

Name: James Corsten
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Abilities: Extremely Minor Pain Infliction
Appearance: James looks quite like someone who's not sure if he's dreaming or awake. He has almond shaped, green eyes, dark brown curls that can never be tamed, and a scrawny body. His cheekbones are about a centimeter higher than average.
Personality: James is fairly stupid, but doesn’t let this bother him, and gets on with his life. Sometimes he contemplates educating himself, but never for long. He is very laid back and hardly ever loses his temper. James carries a compassion for all things living, insects in particular, and doesn’t EVER keep track of time. When he’s sad, he prefers to be left alone, and has a serious phobia of water. (As in the sea, not a glass of) He loves heights and will climb anything he can. I’m not sure, but I think he may have a mild psychological problem.
History: James is illegitimate, his mother a city woman, his father a travelling historian. Having never known his father, James is unused to male companionship, and as such prefers the company of woman or just him. When he was ten, his mother fell into debt and sent him away to find work. This was when he met Alexander Roshel and came to live in his household. Unknown to Alexander, James’s paternal great-great grandmother was a cook for Thomas Roshel, so he could see the half-sights. He’s worked for Alexander for seven years, and in this time changed roles on a day-to-day basis. He’ll do anything – help out in the garden, lift heavy stuff, work in the kitchen. Anything.
Up For Love: Yes.
Other: Nope.

When can we start? I counted and their are only three unposted profiles left.

Name: Bolerne (Bo for short)

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Abilities: A dream manipulator and animal communication

Appearance: He is tall, russet-skinned, and lengthy. His eyes are a deep, almost black brown and his cheekbones are smooth panels across his face. He is usually seen in dark brown trousers, a lose fitting white shirt with suspenders hanging loose and a park of dark riding boots which are forever caked in mud. Underneath his left eye there is a scar from childhood. His hair, which is ebony in colour, is extremely long and plaited down his back.

Personality: Quiet. A very calm person he keeps solely to himself whenever the case me by as such. He's often found in the stables, speaking softly to himself (or so it appears), but when asked about it, he simply replies that he is solemn and wishes company that cannot speak back.

He is generally afraid of people, especially women. Something about the way in which people react to him makes him feel uncertain whether or not any of their notions or pleasantries are genuine. Because of this fact, he's rather cynical in nature.

He's not all cold though. When something catches his fancy - usually talk of anything that does not pertain to him specifically - he will smile and laugh and be merry. Just that his is an awkward sort of smile and laugh as he's not very used to being around people. If that smile or laugh occurs, it usually means that there is some form of comfort and trust developing. The problem is, with that trust and admittance, he is also more prone to be reduced to sadness when one should be cruel to him or prove to be someone he should not have trusted. He's a bit of a crybaby since his feelings are so easily hurt.

Compassionate and lacking in any form of anger, but meek and cowardly compared to most of the half-sights.

Attack Tendencies: Because he's generally not a very courageous person, his attacks usually happen when one is not aware of it happening. When he is fully aware of what he is doing, he's generally compassionate and uses his dream manipulation skills to create a sense of relaxation within the household, but when he is not in his right sense of mind, he has the ability to turn good dreams to nightmares in an instant. The images one sees come from images he fears most, so often enough these attacks are frightening but not altogether horrifying.

Animals also trust him since he can speak with them. If he should be in a bout of attack, he could send horses and such things to do his bidding for him.

History: Bo grew up mostly in the stables. His entire existance had to do with taking care of the farm animals as that was solely left in his charge. It was in this that he developed his skills at speaking with animals. At first, the communication was very weak. The connection though slowly grew stronger until he was capable of having in-depth coversations with whichever animal he so choosed. Nowadays, something seemed to be weighing down on that said communication so talk with little to none at all unless he really worked at it.

He had always loved animals and always hated people. He couldn't remember his parents so affection was not something he knew or was used to.

Up For Love: Yes, but he's a challenge. Since he's so afraid of women, it is very hard to get him to really trust. When this trust is made, though, he's all hers xD.

Other: His compassionate soul makes him more apt to bring sweet dreams even to some of the most inhospitable people.

Read the Spoiler! Also, I'm gone from mid-today until either Saturday night or Sunday morning. I might be able to post, but it's unlikely. Just remember to keep my characters at least a little involved. xD Thanks. <3jlklj




Aailen

Aalien stood, head tilted, arms crossed loosely. The little's girls chest rose slowly under the blankets, her breath wheezing with the exhale. Never, not once, had Aailen seen such a frail-looking child. The girl looked like she'd fall apart if he so much as brushed his fingers against her cheek.

His mind wandered back to the night before- back to Lark. The man had wanted to use experimental techniques on her! As much as he hated to admit it, looking at the girl now, Aailen doubted she would have survived the man's little tests. Even if Lark claimed that they would have worked. Thank God Alexander had intervened.

Aailen stepped closer to the bed-side, waiting anxiously for Lark or one of the servants to return; there was something nerve-racking about being in a room with a possibly-dying little girl. What if she woke up and needed help? She could see, that much was obvious-- what if she expected him to help her? The last thing Aailen knew anything about was human medical care.

Footsteps in the hall caught his attention, but they passed by without the door being open. Half-Sight...or perhaps somebody who was stuck tending to the girl's mother. Either way, it wasn't somebody to help the little blonde who was laying sick on the bed.

Aailen frowned down at her, concern ebbing his features. "Please, for the sake of my sanity, do not wake up until somebody else comes," he whispered, eyes moving towards the door. Ten minutes, they had said. We need ice for her fever. If something happens, run screaming down the halls until somebody comes to help.

What a reassuring thought, Alexander. Why had they left him in charge? And how many bloody people could it take to carry some ice?

Elodie Lestair

Elodie stood anxiously by her room's window, rubbing circles into the palm of her hand with her thumb. Sh had been awake for all of fifteen minutes now-- one of the servants had come and set a pitcher of water on the dresser for her, telling her that somebody would be up shortly to escort her to her daughter's room. So far, the pitcher was untouched, and Elodie was still stuck in her room.

Her body hurt, her eyes were tired and tearful, her head throbbed and her throat burned. Still, she refused to slip back into bed and rest until she saw that her daughter was going to be okay. That's all that mattered right now; was that Daila was safe. She was safe here, wasn't she? The household seemed hospitable enough, and Elodie was grateful... just... afraid.

What would happen to them if Lawrence was looking for them? If he found them... oh good God, what if he found them?

"He won't," she told herself, watching the empty gardens down below. Nobody was in them; not that that was at all surprising. A sick little girl and her mother showing up at one's doorstep tended to occupy time, didn't it? A slight smile brushed Elodie's lips, vanishing almost just as soon as it appeared.

A sick little girl...

Her daughter. The tears returned, as did the urge to go explore until she found Daila's room herself. She wiped at her eyes, frowning at the dirt caked over her hands. Would they care if she went around as dirty as she was? Did it matter?

No, no it did not matter. Elodie sniffed and gathered her skirts, along with what little reserve she had left. She could walk down a hallway filled with dirt and caked-on mud, but she could not walk down a hallway crying.

She strode across the room, pulled down on the doorhandle and opened the door just enough for her to squeeze through. As far as she could tell, nobody was coming or going... her stomach dropped. Daila could be anywhere.

Better start looking then.

*I'm going to start my first post just before Reseph gets back to the estate. At this point he still doesn't know Weliarah is dead.*

Reseph

"Right paw, left paw, right paw, left paw. Come on Reseph you're almost home." By this point the mental litany was the only thing keeping Reseph going. The black and grey wolf stumbled through the woods bordering the dirt packed road. He was covered in wounds, some of them had begun to burn with infection and fever had set in but he dare not stop.

When he'd seen his chance to escape those bastards Reseph had taken it without a backward glance. He hadn't stopped running since then. Not for rest, food, water, or the gods themselves. His legs shook with exhaustion but he was almost home.

Distantly he wondered how his Gran would react when she saw him. Probably chew him out and demand he stay home. But that wasn't possible, Reseph had every intention of healing up and then heading out to hunt down those bastards who had tortured him. They'd taken his... Reseph broke the thought off and whined, he didn't want to think of his lost Sight.

After what seemed an age he finally came to the gate and somehow managed to drag himself through it. But once Reseph reached the door he felt the last of his strength leave him. He could not go one step further. He shook uncontrollably and his vision flashed red, then grey, then black.

Reseph legs buckled and he finally collapsed. As the lights went out he thought he heard someone shout his name.

*I will post shortly as my second character. In the mean time could someone please find Reseph. He's collapsed near the front door.*

*Hey, is anyone going to post on the storybook?*

Lyric/Nau

"Reseph?" I saw the familiar wolf shape trudge slowly up the steps to the manor, confusion drifting over my face as he collapsed in the porch. A few moments later, I'd made my way to his side, nudging him gently with my foot in an attempt to stir him. He remained motionless, and I dropped to kneel beside him, uttering his name once more.

"Reseph?" Still no response, and my brow furrowed slightly. "Reseph, you shouldn't sleep on the porch. It's very strange."

At that, he stirred ever so slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, and shifted back into his natural form, though he remained still and apparently unconscious. I scowled, looking around once in mild annoyance before lifting under his arms and dragging him into the house by his torso, muttering under my breath the whole time. "Next time you fall asleep on the porch, I'm leaving you there to get tripped over."

Once inside, I lay him down at the edge of the hallway, nudging him once more before an expression of concern began to spread over my face. "Are you okay, Res?" Still no response. My brow furrowed again, and I leant into him to place one hand on his forehead to mildly soothe his dream-thoughts. So far, my experience had taught me that sick people always got better with soothing dreams. Hence why I'd spent several hours yesterday hovering by the sick girl's bedside, helping to ease her dreams until I'd ended up asleep myself. My thoughts drifted to her for a moment, until the sensation of Reseph shifting under my hand tore my thoughts back to the present.

"Where..." he murmured quietly, his eyes slowly flickering open, lids heavy with apparent exhaustion. He shook his head once, then opened his eyes properly and lifted his head up to peer at me. "Where is Grandmother? I need to speak to her."

I recoiled at once, curling my arms into myself and me gaze flickering away subconsciously at the tender subject. Reseph ... he must have been away when it happened. He didn't know yet.

My silence must have unnerved him, as after a few seconds he let out a soft cough. I turned back to meet his eyes again, and to see him staring at me with a degree of wariness. "Nau?" he asked again, this time more tentatively than the first.

I swallowed once, closing my eyes and looking away again. "She- she is-" I faltered, resting my head on my arms before trying again to get the words out. "She died. Three days ago."

*Can't think of much this will be short.*

Reseph:

Reseph turned white as he stared at his cousin. "Not possible. Gran can't be dead. " The thought rang in his mind but Reseph found himself unable to say out loud. The miserable look on Lyric's face was testament enough to the truth.

He staggered to his feet leaning heavily against the wall. Gran had always been his anchor, his foundation, and now she was gone? "How did she die Lyric?" His voice was already raw with the new pain.

Lyric shook her head, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "A few days ago she had a vision. It must have been a really bad one. Her heart just stopped from the shock or something. Grandmother only managed to tell us something bad was coming to the estate before..." She broke off unable to finish and glanced down at the floor in surprise. "Res... You're bleeding."

Looking down Reseph noted the blood that had begun to pool at his feet. Some of his wounds most have reopened. "Mostly." He agreed, fighting to remain conscious.

Studying her younger cousin, Lyric noticed his exhausted, bruised and battered body. "What to happened to you Reseph?"

Reseph braced himself against the wall, unable to support his own body. Shadows darkened his silver eyes as he stared solemnly at his cuz. "Very bad things."

Bo:

Daila's dreams had be irksome as of late.

I smoothed my hand alone the bridge of Bessy's muzzle, letting the cow relax and adjust to the smooth caress. Sweet creature, Bessy was, and as gentle as any, but always just a little bit more for me. I watched as her eyes flicked lazily towards different objects, nostrils flaring and narrowing in a rythmic pattern. Such a lovely animal, Bessy was.

"Do you know why Daila is so sick?" I asked softly, pressing my forehead against that of the cow. She shifted uncomfortably but did not move away. The voice that spoke in my head then was not my own. Simply sweet and elegant. The voice of a woman.

I am sorry, Bo. I do not see the world like you do, nor the people in it. My world is here.

I smiled. "Yes, Bessy. I can understand your meaning."

Then why ask my opinion, child?

I turned my eyes away, a bit ashamed at myself for being so upfront with her. It was not usual that Bessy and I ever had conversation of any sort, let alone one that displayed my feeble emotions. "Because this is my world too. I know nothing other than this."

Aye, but you forget the world of dreams, my pet. I'm sure if she could smile, should would have been right now. You know the desires of the heart. The sadness. The regret. I only see what is before me but you... well, you have something so much more compassionate than that.

"I suppose."

You know I am right, child.

"There is no denying that fact," I murmured, more to myself than her. "But even still, I cannot discern anything from those dreams. They frighten me greatly."

~~

If anyone feels like jumping in at this point, go ahead! ;D

Thomas

Bucket of ice in my arms, I made my way down the corridor to the room where the girl slept. Her mother had been put in another area of the manor, hopefully somewhere where she would be safe from the onslaught of sheer crazy that this house had to offer. Now that there were newcomers in here, I was going to have to put even more effort into restraining the crazy, and in attempting to ensure that our guests left with their sanity still intact.

Pushing the door open, I let out a sigh of relief as I saw the girl was still asleep. Putting the bucket by the bedside, I gently placed a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, grimacing at how warm she was. No wonder I'd been asked for ice. I wrapped some of this ice into a cloth, laying it on the girl's forehead and pressing down slightly.

As the cloth touched her skin, the girl's eyes flickered open slowly, blinking fiercely against the bright light of the room. I drew back my hand, watching tentatively, then, when she seemed slightly more conscious, offered a small smile. "Hello Dalia. Do you know where you are?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "My name is Daila." she replied at first, a suspicious expression on her face, before it morphed into something more worried. "Where's my mum?" she asked, a soft frown appearing on her face, and I gestured to the door in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"She's safe, just in a different room. Now that you're awake, you can probably see her later today, okay? I'm Thomas, by the way."

She nodded in quiet understanding, gaze shifting to the door and lingering there. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing to the doorway. I turned to see what she was gesturing to, holding in the temptation to bash my head against the wall when I realised there was nothing there.

Great. Another crazy to add to the collection.

Daila

Every muscle in her body ached and her head pounded like a drum, or thunder in the middle of a storm. She let out a quiet whimper and let her eyes peel open. A quick gaze around the room raised her inner alarm. A pack of ice was placed on her forehead, and a man was standing over her... but it wasn't daddy... she didn't know this man.

"Hello Dalia. Do you know where you are?" he asked.

She blinked, who was Dalia? "My name is Daila..." she said quietly, "Where's mommy?" she asked once she realized that mommy wasn't there. Mommy was always there.

"She's safe, just in a different room. Now that you're awake, you can probably see her later today, okay? I'm Thomas, by the way."

I glanced past him, to the door. There was another man standing there.

"Who's that?" I asked.

He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back to me and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head and pointed again.

"He's right there! Can't you see him?" I asked.

He placed his hand on my forehead and narrowed his eyes, then looked back to the doorway. For a moment, he just stared. I waited quietly.

"Thomas, are you mad at me?" I asked quietly.

He looked back to me and shook his head, then returned to staring at the man in the doorway. The man in the doorway stared back, but with more of an awkward smile then an awkward stare like Thomas had.

"Thomas, you're going to be my new best friend. Is that okay?"

*Considering Reseph is badly injured I figured he could use some medical treatment himself. Or are half-sights supposed to just miraculously heal on their own.*

Kaoli-

Kaoli hummed softly as she rode back through the forest on her neat black hunter, her long bow slung over her back. Today had been a good day, she'd managed to nail a fair sized deer and a brace of pigeons. Her catch was slung over the saddle in front of her.

To her left the old ruins loomed above the forest. She tugged anxiously on her braid watching them out of the corner of her eye. The ruins had always creeped everyone out, the more so now that Weliarah had died predicting something awful about them. Speaking of recent events, Kaoli wondered idly if the little girl had woken up. Daila seemed like a pretty cute kid, maybe some candy would cheer her up and help her get better? Kaoli mused as she rode into the stable, smiling she unsaddled her horse. She'd take her catch to the curing shed and then take a look at the little girl and see how she was doing.

Elodie Lestair

The tingling sensation had started in her calves, slowly working its way down to her shins and then her ankles. The ache in her chest had expanded, transforming into a burn after she had reached the top of the first staircase. She stood there now, one hand bracing her against the wall, the other to her breast.

So far, Elodie had been down the full length of a hall that she had dubbed hers. No servants, no master, no Daila. Was it honestly a good idea to place a weak mother so far from her ill daughter? She rested her head against the wall, trying to gain her composure and find her breath. It wouldn't come back, and she was waisting time.

What if she's already gone? No, they would come and tell her, wouldn't they? What if they've tried and you weren't in your room? Wouldn't she have heard footsteps? The servants would have seen her if that was the case, wouldn't they have? Of course they would have; she hadn't gotten far after all.

Elodie forced air into her lungs, begging her legs to move forward. They did so slowly, shouting at her to stop making them work with every blasted step.

"Thomas, you're going to be my new best friend. Is that okay?"

She stopped abruptly, staring at the door to her right. Daila... that was Daila's voice. The door was cracked open with hardly enough room to fit a sliver through. But still, that was open, which meant that it wasn't locked. It took Elodie all of half a second to process this, and she was shoving the door open, eyes wide, heart pounding. A man sitting on the edge of the bed looked up, expression startled.

He was the very last thing that Elodie cared about right now. She half-sprinted to the bedside, legs suddenly finding their strength, and all but yanked the man away in order to see her daughter. "Daila..." Her eyes misted over, fingers already working through the girl's hair. Her cheeks were blazing... This was her fault. What sort of a mother are you?

She rested her forehead against Daila's, a sob breaking out. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." She kissed her daughter's burning cheek , sobbing harder. It had been a long three weeks.

Name: Lidz
Age: 30 (15)
Gender: F
Abilities: Shape-Shifting (A Wolf, An Eagle and A Snake)
Appearance:Parchment pale skin, dark, but bright, blue eyes that change colour depending on mood. Dark brown hair that is pixie styled.
Personality:She is determined- if she can't do something, she will not stop until she can. She is competitive, and can come across as bossy. She loves adventure and can be cheeky. She loves the fact she can shape-shift. To people who don't know her, she can come across as dark and brooding, but really, thats just a defence, and she is really funny, kind and loyal to her friends. (As in 'dark and brooding’ to people who can see her). She usually jumps into things without thinking, resulting in consequences. She can be withdrawn when she is upset, and usually gets grumpy as she can be upset easily; she takes things to heart.
”Attack” Tendencies:When angered, she lashes out verbally first, and if they say or do something nasty, she will lash out physically. Her powers increase- she can shift faster.
History: I don't really know what to put in here.
Up For Love: Yes, whoever doesn't mind.
Other: Nah.

Name: Charlie Rose
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Abilities: None
Appearance: A tall lanky teenager, with brown hair and big round dark eyes. He’s rather pale, and he’s bone skinny.

Personality: One thing that being a servant taught him, is how to be humble and kind to all people, no matter what their situation is. He is friendly and readily open with his emotions in most cases. When it comes to cooking however he can be a bit vain. He deplores bottling up his feelings and actively wears his heart on his sleeve. In all, he is caring individual that doesn’t like to see people upset. Even if he doesn’t know a person and sees that they are upset he will try to comfort them. He has an odd obsession with the senses. At any given time he likes to stimulate these senses. He will rarely be seen without some kind of food in his hands or pockets. He often notes the smells of people and he touches things randomly to feel their texture. He listens to music for hours at a time.

Charlie is a bit brash and does not think things through all the way. He considers life to be too short to live by rules and regulations and does just about anything he wants if he thinks it is fun. Because of this he is a bit of a hedonist, doing things that please him with little regard for consequences and other people. He is usually about instant thrills and fun rather than looking at long term. He has a very short attention span. He also has a habit of getting obsessed with one thing for short periods of time of intense obsessing.

History: Charlie grew up as an only child with just his mother, Rose. His father had apparently walked out on them when he was younger. His mother claims that his father was a kind man that loved them both, and had to leave for reasons unknown to her. Charlie never believed this growing up but he humored his mother. He lived in the mansion as long as he could remember. He never much liked being a servant, but his mother said that with hard work one day he could have a mansion of his own. He mostly works in the kitchen having found an interest in cooking. To be exact he likes baking, as he has a soft spot for anything and everything sweet.


Up For Love: It’s possible, but doubtful. He sees love as being painful, and he does not do pain.
Other: