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A Chance Meeting 2.0



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Sun Jul 02, 2017 3:43 pm
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Featherstone says...



Inialos eyed the newcomer, looking him over. He didn't seem too dangerous. Evron smiles and walks over to him.

"Hullo, friend. I'm Evron, that's Inialos." He gestures to the man behind him a ways.
"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."


he/him/his





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Sun Jul 02, 2017 11:25 pm
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soundofmind says...



"Oh." James gave a nod of recognition to the stranger and their friend. He took a second to prepare himself mentally for conversation. He still felt a bit like he was still lost in the forest. "I'm Peter. Thank you for welcoming me in and opening your home to a stranger, Evron and Inialos. I'm sorry to intrude."
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.






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Sun Jul 02, 2017 11:27 pm
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Featherstone says...



He laughs. "Oh, it's not our home. The owners are off that way." Evron gestures with one arm, waving it off to his right. "I must say, we were quite surprised to find this place ourself. It's quite the party."

Inialos watches the exchange in silence, uninterested in making small talk with the newcomer.
"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."


he/him/his





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Sun Jul 02, 2017 11:44 pm
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soundofmind says...



James looked behind Evron, watching people come and go. From the sounds he could hear throughout the house of people chatting and going this way and that, it did sound like it was really, rather busy. Were all of these people strangers though? Was this an inn? Was everyone here guests or did everyone else find their way here the same way he did? Now he had many questions as to the whereabouts of everyone in the home, and the owners of it, but he decided it best to hold his tongue. As said before, he was welcomed in and was already a walking inconvenience to whomever this house really belonged to. Needless to say though, this was a very curious situation. With some more conversation he'd probably get some sort of idea...

"So it seems." He replied, eyeing Inialos, who was watching quietly. While Evron was in no way bad company and seemed a sociable man, James did inwardly wish he could simply be an observer as well. Though, his life circumstances rarely worked out to where that was possible or reasonable.

"There really aren't any other buildings nearby in this area. It is surprising that this place is so... lively."
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.






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Sun Jul 02, 2017 11:56 pm
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Featherstone says...



"It is, isn't it?" A woman's voice answers from behind him. "We just stumbled upon it while we were traveling. And do leave the man alone, Evron. Go find someone else to bather with your yammer," she smiles.
"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."


he/him/his





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Mon Jul 03, 2017 12:10 am
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soundofmind says...



"Oh he - he wasn't bothering me, miss." James interjected, although that wasn't completely true. It wasn't a bother, truly, but he didn't really want to make small talk.
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.






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Mon Jul 03, 2017 12:25 am
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Mageheart says...



Spoiler! :
Can I post next?
mage

[ she/her, but in a boy kinda way ]

roleplaying is my platonic love language.

queer and here.





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Mon Jul 03, 2017 12:43 am
soundofmind says...



Spoiler! :
@Mage Go for it! :D
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.






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Mon Jul 03, 2017 10:28 am
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Mageheart says...



~Schadel H. Kueper~


She was still having trouble comprehending what exactly had led her up to this specific point in time, but she had promised Nendros that she would stay behind and greet whoever had arrived. And, she heard the large crowd of people walk away, she didn't intend of breaking that promise. Taking a deep breath - because she had no idea what she was getting herself into - she threw open the doors and took a step outside.

"Hi," she hesitantly said. "I'm sorry if I just interrupted your conversation. I'm Schadel H. Kueper, detective-in-training and necromancer." She held her hand out for the newcomer. "I'm not the person who owns this place, but I volunteered to take you to them."
mage

[ she/her, but in a boy kinda way ]

roleplaying is my platonic love language.

queer and here.





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Mon Jul 03, 2017 11:33 am
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soundofmind says...



"Oh..." James simply gave a forced smile, as he took in this new information. He took her hand, and shook it firmly, though his armored fingers probably didn't make for the nicest handshake. "I'm Peter." He added in quietly.

He gestured to her with both hands raised slightly. "Lead the way, then, Ms. Kueper."
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.






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Mon Jul 03, 2017 12:46 pm
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Kelpies says...



Chessy

I decided it would be fun to race from one end of the ceiling to the other, and did so a few times. I then wondered why no one was walking on the ceiling in order to race me.

"Hey! Can someone race me?"

"What do you think?" Said Mackenzie snidely.

"Yes?"

"No! There's such a thing as gravity that we kind of have to obey!"

"Says the flying woman." I pointed out, which only seemed to make her mad.
We are who we are, and if someone has a problem with that; that's their problem not ours.
***
I do believe that insane is the only way to go.





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Mon Jul 03, 2017 2:56 pm
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Featherstone says...



The red-haired woman who'd spoken to Peter nods to Kueper, then moves over to the corner with her dog. Evron disappears to mingle and Inialos joins Tasha.
"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."


he/him/his





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Thu Feb 08, 2018 8:40 pm
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RedEyedRunt says...



Victoria

Victoria's eyes searched the forest, her eyes untrusting of every plant, every tree, every noise that lay there. Her long white nightgown trailed behind her, she held the lantern to guide her, but alas, no guide could guide her out of this mess. . . It was quite a peculiar incident, such as the fact that she had been chased by a creature she had only heard in stories. . .

Days earlier, she had met a lovely man, his smile soft, as was his manner, but alas when his true colors had been shown. . . She had decided to run instead of becoming a vampire. But here she had run and gotten lost, expecting him and his friends to pop out from behind the trees like weasels would from the ground.

The soft, gentle, but passionate rose she had held earlier was missing petals, and nearly dead. Just like Victoria would be if she wouldn't stop running and not look for shelter. A shudder in the bushes made Victoria immediately pick up a stick from the ground, pointing it around her, "COME OUT YOU PALE FREAK!" She screamed at a simple owl. . . She was most definitely on edge. . .
Winterfell is cold.








Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.
— Leonardo da Vinci