Post by nny on Nov 23, 2008 5:52:00 GMT -5
Name: People call me 'Nny, and you can too! :D
Age: Fifteen.
Experience: We-e-elll. I've only been role-playing for about a year and a half, but it's been a good, full year and a half. In that span of time, I've gotten past tons of RP sites (mostly Harry Potter :D) and lots of "staying-up-late-nights" dedicated to pure, unadulterated role-playing. I have, however, been writing since way back already, and I hope that counts as extra experience. xD
How you found us: Through a close friend of mine! Her name's Kit, but she signed up as Juturna in the site, and I doubt she's that hard to miss. :]]
Role play Sample: Hopefully, it's fine if I do some copy & pasting from an RP site I'm on.
And here's a snippet from a story of mine -- if that's fine with you guys :p
He said: BLOCKED BY ADMINS, kthnxbai! <3
Age: Fifteen.
Experience: We-e-elll. I've only been role-playing for about a year and a half, but it's been a good, full year and a half. In that span of time, I've gotten past tons of RP sites (mostly Harry Potter :D) and lots of "staying-up-late-nights" dedicated to pure, unadulterated role-playing. I have, however, been writing since way back already, and I hope that counts as extra experience. xD
How you found us: Through a close friend of mine! Her name's Kit, but she signed up as Juturna in the site, and I doubt she's that hard to miss. :]]
Role play Sample: Hopefully, it's fine if I do some copy & pasting from an RP site I'm on.
Sometimes, Lukas wished he had a sister.
Weird revelation, but it was true. He wished he had one -- a younger one -- so he could boss her around and immediately blame her for all the shite that might blow up. He wished he had one so not all of the attention would be focused on him and him alone. He wished he had one because he wanted to talk to someone who was directly related to him, someone connected by blood, veins, and, well... genes. He wished for a sister, and not a brother. Brothers were idiotic, and instead of "not focusing on Lukas", the attention would be snatched from him completely -- he didn't exactly want that. He wished for a sister because, unlike some, she would be disciplined enough by Mum and Dad and would behave herself like a proper Verzani.
...He wished he had one because he wanted to feel how it was for someone younger than you to look up to you.
"Aw, crap," Lukas Verzani whispered under his breath as he caught himself in one of *these* particularly ridiculous moments. He shook his head and continued walking on. Some certain bullcrap happened between him and his parents today, and, apparently, Kaspar Verzani's so-called "anger" was enough for Mum to cancel the social gathering they were supposed to be going to. Not that Lukas minded the canceled social-gathering part. He knew they were important, as they made connections for the family -- and for him, for future reference and all -- but he was currently too tired for them. True, though, that he'd come to grow indifferent about his father's sudden mood swings and violence-issues, but sometimes, it was just a whole lot better if you could share the annoyance you felt and the attention given by an angry parent with someone else.
Hence the sister bit.
So here he was, walking along the dark streets of Knockturn Alley, a place he frequented so much so that he could almost memorize each and every passersby and which shops they often went to. He was a bored person, basically. But hey, it was a weeknight, and there was currently nothing better to do. For some reason, reading books just didn't cut it as much as they used to anymore. ...Or maybe it was the house. Yeah, probably the house. Lukas knew he'd be breathing his father's air in the library, and that would surely irritate him. His mother, too, was also becoming more and more mechanic with each passing day; she was acting less and less like the mother Lukas had come to know -- it was almost as if she was always thinking about something else. He couldn't tell what.
But anyway. Spiny Serpent. He needed some wine. Quick. Alcohol would make his systems numb. He didn't take too much of it, of course; maybe once or twice a month -- or thrice, at most -- but sometimes, you just couldn't help but add one more shot considering the amount of idiocy you were made to face on a daily basis. So, yeah. Lukas pushed the door open, awkwardly made his way to the bar and sat upon a stool, right next to some other person who was drinking her -- that's what he could tell from this angle -- bit of wine. Red wine. The bartender came over, and Lukas didn't have to say anything to get the bloke to know what drink he wanted. As he waited for the barkeep to come back, he began looking at the person beside him with the corner of his eye. There was definitely something different, but he couldn't tell. She wasn't facing him enough.
And here's a snippet from a story of mine -- if that's fine with you guys :p
By the time we arrived in Château de Girbaud, my Great Aunt’s larger-than-normal abode, it had already been about dusk.
The Paris skyline would’ve been great, but considering the occasion today, I was in no position to simply sit and watch the last remnants of the sunset as they dissolved into the dark evening sky. Nor could I really stay outside and stare ceaselessly at the breath-taking views of Belleville. It would have been interesting, as the neighborhood was situated on and around a hill, but I was to stay in at all times, my mother warned. It was my obligation to have a meet-and-greet with the rest of my -- unknown -- relatives.
Call it a reunion, or call it anything else. Either way, it still rang true that the only real reason I went was because my father wasn’t going, and I certainly didn’t want to be stuck with him back in London, especially since the loathing and rivalry had shot up just recently.
As my mother had a go at the doorbell, I repeatedly attempted to tell myself that this one would be fine and that there would be no flying kitchen utensils during dinner. And as much as I knew only four of them well -- my grandmother, my grandfather, my aunt, and my great aunt -- this wouldn’t, at least, be as much of a waste as it probably would, had I been visiting my father’s family; I detested his relatives, see.
The one time my family had to visit his, I’d been thirteen. I didn’t exactly enjoy it as much as I would’ve liked to.
They were Italians, and a lot of them talked with their hands. They were loud, and noisy, and really, really irritating, which I obviously appreciated. My mother told me that they often sounded angry, even when they weren’t; said it had something to do with how their language was spoken. I didn’t think it was the same with my father. He was always angry.
But of course, we didn’t visit my paternal grandparents. They were dead. So my dad, who had obviously been forced into this by my mum, made plans on going with the next closest relations before we went on the trip to Rome. But nobody really told me that these "next closest relations" were huge, fat and annoyingly nosy. They loved to cook too, and though that wasn’t bad, the place smelled like Fiori di zucca, which were, in easier but lengthier terms, Zucchini flowers, deep fried and filled with mozzarella cheese and anchovies.
My stomach churned with the constant temptation of venturing into their kitchen and nicking their food clean off the shelves, though I obviously wasn’t allowed to do that. Dinner had also been clamorous and turbulent and much, much rowdier than expected. The whizzing forks didn’t really help.
But anyway; back to the point. Whereas my father’s side was the chaotic side, I’d prefer to think that the high-class, respectable folks were from my mother’s. …And in a way, that came off as a little more intimidating than it was supposed to be.
He said: BLOCKED BY ADMINS, kthnxbai! <3
