Post by koi on Jan 9, 2008 23:36:59 GMT -5
Name: Aminta L.
Age: I’m fifteen years old. =)
Experience: I’ve been role playing for more than a few years, starting with Neopets and then to forums. I stopped just before getting into high school. I’m making a comeback.
How you found us: Advertisement on Neopets.com.
Role play Sample:
This is taken from a one on one role-play (my posts only).
A black, discreet car rolled in front of the Clinic and came to a slow halt. A man in completely black attire with peppered hair and shaded face stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger door, creaking just enough so a svelte figure could slip through. Although she was young, no more than eighteen years of age, her unembellished clothing and tightly wrapped hair bun made her seem years older. With gloved hands, she waved the man off and then proceeded into the Clinic. In this way, with little or no speaking, she motioned her way through the front desk, various levels and corridors of the hospital. The men and women surrounding her were all submissively compliant. She was, after all, the daughter of that man. The man who had in his golden years whipped their families onto their knees so much that they quietly sobbed, seeking solace on the bosom of cold, bloody marble slabs when they died. He was, after all, a mafia leader.
Then she arrived in the Room. It was a starchy place with rigid furniture and blank decoration. There was an abominable stench in the air and when it became evident to Lucie she lifted a white handkerchief and pressed it against her nose and mouth, turning away from the messy, stained white bed. But then her eyes turned to the man about twice her age sitting in the wheel chair turned towards the window. Her leathered hands squeaked from her tightened grip as quiescent memories recrudesced in her mind and heart.
She was seven then, hiding underneath a cabinet, cowering in corner. There were swaggering steps and unintelligible sounds of a drunkard making their way up the stairs. Little Lucie could hear the half empty bottle thump against the wall. She pressed herself closer against the corner, holding her breath, squeezing her fists and eyes. When she could no longer hold her breath in no longer, she heaved and coughed loudly from the dust that had seeped into her lungs.
Her mother was coming. She could see her feet enter from the doorway, one bare and the other trailing behind pantyhose, stumbling and tripping on each other. Lucie lifted her eyes just enough so that she could glimpse her mother’s lower body. In one hand was a bottle of some vintage alcoholic drink and in the other hand was a gun.
Talking of doctors in the hallway pulled her back from her recollection. Lucie breathed outwards heavily, feeling the atmosphere’s sudden change in thickness and weight. She would have died that night in her father’s arms if he hadn’t rushed in and gotten in the woman’s way. She could faintly remember their struggle, her mother’s long and tousled hair being torn by the strands as her father tried to grab the gun. The trigger had gone off that night and from then on, there were only two people in the room. Only one emerged from the night sane. Touched for a moment by the sacrifice her father made those thousands of nights ago; she approached him and rested her hand upon his shoulder.
Lucie lifted her chin and fixed her eyes on the back of his head, on his hollow, empty shape. Without turning the lethargic man to face her, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. The night after her mother’s death, she could recall these hands lifting her to her bedroom. When she had awoken, her father had become a wretched figure, clutching a rag doll with bloody clothes and maimed hair, screaming. She could still remember the words of his cry: “The woman’s still alive! Keep Lucie safe! Keep her safe! Why won’t you let me go? I have to hide Lucie. I have to save her.” Her teeth rattled at the memory of it. From then on, he saw his daughter only in the rag doll. He was so wild in mind and spirit that it took several servants to tie him down when he saw her, Little Lucie, stepping down the stairs.
Lucie came to her senses when the man murmured a few words, asking for his daughter. She shook her head in response, running her thumbs over the veins on the back of his hand. The presence of his daughter was undetectable to him.
Age: I’m fifteen years old. =)
Experience: I’ve been role playing for more than a few years, starting with Neopets and then to forums. I stopped just before getting into high school. I’m making a comeback.
How you found us: Advertisement on Neopets.com.
Role play Sample:
This is taken from a one on one role-play (my posts only).
A black, discreet car rolled in front of the Clinic and came to a slow halt. A man in completely black attire with peppered hair and shaded face stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger door, creaking just enough so a svelte figure could slip through. Although she was young, no more than eighteen years of age, her unembellished clothing and tightly wrapped hair bun made her seem years older. With gloved hands, she waved the man off and then proceeded into the Clinic. In this way, with little or no speaking, she motioned her way through the front desk, various levels and corridors of the hospital. The men and women surrounding her were all submissively compliant. She was, after all, the daughter of that man. The man who had in his golden years whipped their families onto their knees so much that they quietly sobbed, seeking solace on the bosom of cold, bloody marble slabs when they died. He was, after all, a mafia leader.
Then she arrived in the Room. It was a starchy place with rigid furniture and blank decoration. There was an abominable stench in the air and when it became evident to Lucie she lifted a white handkerchief and pressed it against her nose and mouth, turning away from the messy, stained white bed. But then her eyes turned to the man about twice her age sitting in the wheel chair turned towards the window. Her leathered hands squeaked from her tightened grip as quiescent memories recrudesced in her mind and heart.
She was seven then, hiding underneath a cabinet, cowering in corner. There were swaggering steps and unintelligible sounds of a drunkard making their way up the stairs. Little Lucie could hear the half empty bottle thump against the wall. She pressed herself closer against the corner, holding her breath, squeezing her fists and eyes. When she could no longer hold her breath in no longer, she heaved and coughed loudly from the dust that had seeped into her lungs.
Her mother was coming. She could see her feet enter from the doorway, one bare and the other trailing behind pantyhose, stumbling and tripping on each other. Lucie lifted her eyes just enough so that she could glimpse her mother’s lower body. In one hand was a bottle of some vintage alcoholic drink and in the other hand was a gun.
Talking of doctors in the hallway pulled her back from her recollection. Lucie breathed outwards heavily, feeling the atmosphere’s sudden change in thickness and weight. She would have died that night in her father’s arms if he hadn’t rushed in and gotten in the woman’s way. She could faintly remember their struggle, her mother’s long and tousled hair being torn by the strands as her father tried to grab the gun. The trigger had gone off that night and from then on, there were only two people in the room. Only one emerged from the night sane. Touched for a moment by the sacrifice her father made those thousands of nights ago; she approached him and rested her hand upon his shoulder.
Lucie lifted her chin and fixed her eyes on the back of his head, on his hollow, empty shape. Without turning the lethargic man to face her, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. The night after her mother’s death, she could recall these hands lifting her to her bedroom. When she had awoken, her father had become a wretched figure, clutching a rag doll with bloody clothes and maimed hair, screaming. She could still remember the words of his cry: “The woman’s still alive! Keep Lucie safe! Keep her safe! Why won’t you let me go? I have to hide Lucie. I have to save her.” Her teeth rattled at the memory of it. From then on, he saw his daughter only in the rag doll. He was so wild in mind and spirit that it took several servants to tie him down when he saw her, Little Lucie, stepping down the stairs.
Lucie came to her senses when the man murmured a few words, asking for his daughter. She shook her head in response, running her thumbs over the veins on the back of his hand. The presence of his daughter was undetectable to him.
