Post by hail auditioning on Mar 18, 2008 19:41:01 GMT -5
Name: Hail, but you can call me Val, if you prefer.
Age: I prefer to keep this disclosed, but thirteen. I can handle anything you throw at me, though.
Experience: I've been role-playing since I was eleven, and I can get into literate-advanced boards on Neopets, though that isn't saying much.
How you found us: Neopets.
Role play Sample:
-It's a twisted fairy-tale introduction that I wrote almost a year and a half ago, so it's a tiny bit unpolished, and I get embarrassed showing it, but... It's longer and has a better concept that most writing I, er... write.-
The Wicked Queen smiled at herself, reflected in the surface of the silver-framed mirror. Her sunflower-yellow curls were brushed to perfection and hung loose, but not limply, to the small of her back, and butterfly clips graced her hair at several places. She almost appeared like a teenager, with pale pink lips that were curved into an ugly smile and a set of startling, sweet blue eyes that were her only facade against the comments thrown at her. How could she be the incarnation of pure evil in flesh and blood, when her voice was soft and gentle, like melting butter? How could she be terribly wicked when she was graceful and poised?
A laugh would tear itself loose from the Wicked Queen's lips had those questions been asked by the many household maids and servants that gossiped between intervals in the many intertwining corridors of the castle, as the idea that she was sweet was as far from her as possible. She was twisted and ugly inside, feeding off the wrath of others- the wrath that fueled them to do wicked things. She had never been accused of doing the things that flew from the lips of village gossips, as she sent others in her place to do those certain things. She acted outraged when she heard that her issued deeds had been fulfilled, but later, sitting in her bed room, she would laugh her head off as she brushed her hair; smile secretly to herself when she fell into the realms of sleep. Some would say it was crazy, but... It was justice.
In her hands the stem of a rose was held limply, and her fingers twirled it, feelings the thorns occasionally brush the fragile fabric of her palm, never tearing the image of near-porcelain. Blood pounded beneath the surface, icy blood that never rushed to her head and made her blush. She was almost incapable of these things, as her acts had made her heart fall into a web of brittleness and coldness that would have marred any other mortals soul. She was not mortal anymore, but nor was she immortal. The Wicked Queen's acts had twisted her soul into a vulgar, joyless thing that was just a cloud that floated inside, but it could never again be compared to any other soul.
The Queen's attentions were drawn back to the mirror, and the smile that played on her lips was fuller and wider then it had been before as she remembered finding it inside her Grandmother's attic one summer when her doctor had told her Mother that the sickly-sweet sea air would grace her form greatly. She had been an innocent, sickly child with ivory-colored skin and flushed cheeks, and had withdrawn into the attic in bad temper when she had been called a horrible name by one of her Grandmother's villager friends who had come down. "Merci!" That was what she had exclaimed when she had ripped the gray cloth off and revealed the cracked mirror that was covered in cobwebs beneath. The mirror had entranced her with tales of being pretty and healthy and nearly the image of perfection, if only she would break the already cracked glass and set the soul within loose. She had screeched and stamped her foot, being the already spoiled girl she was, demanding that the mirror grant her wish now or be hidden again. Her grandmother, two floors down, had explained to her village friends that her granddaughter was nearly insane, and was thrown into one of her tantrums easily these days, of which both the former and the latter were true.
The Mirror had granted the younger version of the current Queen her hopes, but it came at a price. Her image and beauty was spoiled as she climbed up the social steps and committed the deeds that were so often issued these days, all at the petty wish of being perfection in the publics eyes. Just so the Mirror could escape from it's dungeon, and never again view the monster of a woman he had created. But she had not broke the Mirror, laughing, saying that she had not said when, and that when she on her death bed she would order someone to take a tool and smash the glass.
Now, the same, but older, woman stood in front of the same shamed Mirror, smiling and chanting something that was an practically an enchantment, her dainty and slender hands clasped before her. Yesterday the Mirror had said that her step daughter was the fairest, and thrown into a fit of rage, she had ordered the Huntsman to do what he would do soon.
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, Who's the Fairest of them All?"
Age: I prefer to keep this disclosed, but thirteen. I can handle anything you throw at me, though.
Experience: I've been role-playing since I was eleven, and I can get into literate-advanced boards on Neopets, though that isn't saying much.
How you found us: Neopets.
Role play Sample:
-It's a twisted fairy-tale introduction that I wrote almost a year and a half ago, so it's a tiny bit unpolished, and I get embarrassed showing it, but... It's longer and has a better concept that most writing I, er... write.-
The Wicked Queen smiled at herself, reflected in the surface of the silver-framed mirror. Her sunflower-yellow curls were brushed to perfection and hung loose, but not limply, to the small of her back, and butterfly clips graced her hair at several places. She almost appeared like a teenager, with pale pink lips that were curved into an ugly smile and a set of startling, sweet blue eyes that were her only facade against the comments thrown at her. How could she be the incarnation of pure evil in flesh and blood, when her voice was soft and gentle, like melting butter? How could she be terribly wicked when she was graceful and poised?
A laugh would tear itself loose from the Wicked Queen's lips had those questions been asked by the many household maids and servants that gossiped between intervals in the many intertwining corridors of the castle, as the idea that she was sweet was as far from her as possible. She was twisted and ugly inside, feeding off the wrath of others- the wrath that fueled them to do wicked things. She had never been accused of doing the things that flew from the lips of village gossips, as she sent others in her place to do those certain things. She acted outraged when she heard that her issued deeds had been fulfilled, but later, sitting in her bed room, she would laugh her head off as she brushed her hair; smile secretly to herself when she fell into the realms of sleep. Some would say it was crazy, but... It was justice.
In her hands the stem of a rose was held limply, and her fingers twirled it, feelings the thorns occasionally brush the fragile fabric of her palm, never tearing the image of near-porcelain. Blood pounded beneath the surface, icy blood that never rushed to her head and made her blush. She was almost incapable of these things, as her acts had made her heart fall into a web of brittleness and coldness that would have marred any other mortals soul. She was not mortal anymore, but nor was she immortal. The Wicked Queen's acts had twisted her soul into a vulgar, joyless thing that was just a cloud that floated inside, but it could never again be compared to any other soul.
The Queen's attentions were drawn back to the mirror, and the smile that played on her lips was fuller and wider then it had been before as she remembered finding it inside her Grandmother's attic one summer when her doctor had told her Mother that the sickly-sweet sea air would grace her form greatly. She had been an innocent, sickly child with ivory-colored skin and flushed cheeks, and had withdrawn into the attic in bad temper when she had been called a horrible name by one of her Grandmother's villager friends who had come down. "Merci!" That was what she had exclaimed when she had ripped the gray cloth off and revealed the cracked mirror that was covered in cobwebs beneath. The mirror had entranced her with tales of being pretty and healthy and nearly the image of perfection, if only she would break the already cracked glass and set the soul within loose. She had screeched and stamped her foot, being the already spoiled girl she was, demanding that the mirror grant her wish now or be hidden again. Her grandmother, two floors down, had explained to her village friends that her granddaughter was nearly insane, and was thrown into one of her tantrums easily these days, of which both the former and the latter were true.
The Mirror had granted the younger version of the current Queen her hopes, but it came at a price. Her image and beauty was spoiled as she climbed up the social steps and committed the deeds that were so often issued these days, all at the petty wish of being perfection in the publics eyes. Just so the Mirror could escape from it's dungeon, and never again view the monster of a woman he had created. But she had not broke the Mirror, laughing, saying that she had not said when, and that when she on her death bed she would order someone to take a tool and smash the glass.
Now, the same, but older, woman stood in front of the same shamed Mirror, smiling and chanting something that was an practically an enchantment, her dainty and slender hands clasped before her. Yesterday the Mirror had said that her step daughter was the fairest, and thrown into a fit of rage, she had ordered the Huntsman to do what he would do soon.
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, Who's the Fairest of them All?"
