"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Herobrine carefully sipped his mug of hot chocolate, savoring each warm droplet as it slid down his throat. He glanced over at Charlotte. Half of her drink was already gone, and he looked back down at the mug in his own hands.
((this looks fun I think I'll slip Alexander in here))
Last edited by Atticus on Mon Nov 13, 2017 5:37 am, edited 2 times in total.
[he/him]
"tiktok and giving children meth are my passions" ~ @ShadowVyper "carinas long foretold chaos protege" ~ @veeren "smol bean, future of chaos" ~ @carina
Alexander Glen, male, Caucasian, straight, 6'2, dark hair, sharp jawline, brown eyes. A solid negotiator, has good control of his emotions and has a education centered on rhetoric. He is very polite and always has the appropriate social response, but his replies always seem scripted, and it's very hard to unearth the genuine Alex. He is good in battle and moves precisely and crisply in battle, executing the basic moves so flawlessly and moving with such grace and elegance it is almost impossible for an enemy to touch him.
Alexander wraps his coat tighter around his shivering body. The wind howls in his ears, and his teeth chatter. The landscape is bleak, and snow is falling around him. He will have to break soon, but his tent is on his back and wouldn't provide much warmth against the snow.
He spots a sign for a tavern and forces his way through the bitter winds down a hill until he is standing on the threshold. He pushes the door open and is greeted with a blast of hot air. He looks up. "Do you have tea and soup for a weary traveler?"
[he/him]
"tiktok and giving children meth are my passions" ~ @ShadowVyper "carinas long foretold chaos protege" ~ @veeren "smol bean, future of chaos" ~ @carina
"We do indeed!" the barkeep smiles, fetching it and setting the soup and tea down next to the large man in the trench coat.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
The man looks out through a window at the storm, his expression difficult to read.
"Ain't nothin out there," the barkeep says, noticing his gaze. "Nothin' good, anyways. Y'all would do best to stay here, even after that dies down."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
She heard Herobrine gently placed his mug down, and the two of them sat in silence as they tried to figure out how they had ended up in this place. They had been trying to head towards his home. That was something she was certain of. How had they become so lost?
"If you don't mind me asking," she suddenly started, "does anyone know where this place is?"
"This is the Rising Phoenix," the woman replies. "It's in the mountains, far north of the Plains."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
*illegally double-posts in front of multiple mods*
"Where were you supposed to be?" the man asks Herobrine.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Not here," he slowly replied. He honestly had no idea where the Plains even were. If he didn't know the place he was supposedly in, how could he compare it to where he should have ended up?
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
