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Eloquent Conversationalist
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 Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 10:54 am
 CELESTIAL CITY, a city of secrets:In this legendary city of stars, right alongside men and woman like you and me, there exist fantastical beings with unimaginable power. They look and live like humans, for the most part, except they hail from another world vastly different from ours, where anything is possible.
So why are they here? What drives them to come to our world, so gray and dull? Do we have something they seek? Are we to fear them, or are they to fear us? You'd have to ask them to find out...
RULES:
This is it. This is your premise, that in this Celestial City there are magical beings who live and work in disguise alongside humans. Stick to it, and try not to wander too far away from this basic setting.
You can be whatever race you want to be, even one you made up on the fly. You could even play a god if you wanted, but you still can't godmod and if you start dramatic apocalyptic battles just because, then I'm going to pull you aside and have a few choice words for you.
Just post. It's a walk-in roleplay. You don't need a profile or a roleplay sample.
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 1:01 pm
  
She had always loved to look up at the sky and dream. No matter what world she stood on, what time of day or night it was, it had always been a simple joy of hers to simply tilt her head back towards the sky and dream.
She did so now, a tall young woman with long, curling dark hair that, when the light was right, appeared almost a deep, dark shade of green. Her eyes, a deep, thoughtful brown, studied the clouds that drifted through the sky, smiled as the sun's warmth seeped into her.
On this world, she was known as Rhea. Simply Rhea. In worlds past...well, it was really quite difficult to translate her given name into this language they called English. When translated, so much of her language lost it's beauty and became simply a line of endless sounds and syllables.
Rolling her shoulders, left bare by the dress she wore, she turned her attention back to her surroundings, her eyes softening as she ran a fingertip down the lush green leaves of the plant she'd been nursing back to health. Such life in the roots of this one, she thought, and looked around her at the plants and flowers that surrounded her. It had taken some time to create this garden, had taken time to accept that she could not return to the lush, sprawling gardens she had tended to so lovingly back on her home planet.
Which was why, in the middle of the place they called Celestial City, while humanity hustled and bustled several stories below her, Rhea had cultivated a rooftop garden that spread across the entirety of the roof of the apartment complex she resided in. That, too, had taken some adapting to. She who was used to acres of farmland, of living simply, had fallen into a world of things called electricity, televisions, automobiles, elevators. She'd spent a few weeks quite fascinated by the magic moving box that took you where you wanted to go at the touch of a button.
She had made a home here, in this place that was lightyears from her homeland. She, and those like her who had...relocated blended in with these fascinating, diverse species known as humans. She supposed, from what she'd studied, that they would refer to her as an...alien was the word, she believed. She preferred to think of herself as an immigrant.
"You grow so well, my love. Praise the goddess for the fruit you bear." Rhea stroked a hand lovingly down the trunk of one of the miniature orange trees that lined the left side of the roof. However, she let out a sympathetic murmur as she moved to the next tree, saw a branch about to snap from the weight of the fruit it bore, ran a finger over the crack already formed in the wood.
"You poor thing. Trying so hard." Gently, so gently, she wrapped her fingers around the struggling branch, let out a long breath as the language of her people ran through her mind, as the blood of her ancestors ran a bit faster through her veins. At her touch, the branch seemed to glow slightly with an earthy green hue, and beneath her fingers, the branch visibly strengthened, thickening a bit and repairing itself.
With a quiet hum, she released the branch, studied it before smiling. There. Much better. She would be eternally grateful that her gifts had not been made void in this world, as she knew had happened with others.
Satisfied that her children -as she thought of all her plants- were cared for, Rhea walked over to a large, flat rock she'd carted up to the roof, eased herself down onto it. It was not as large or as old as her mediation stone she'd left behind, but if sufficed quite well.
Closing her eyes, she rested her hands on her knees, emptied her mind. And in the middle of a crowded city, where cars honked their horns and the smell of humanity wafted through the heavy, heated air, Rhea found peace.
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 5:50 pm
The narrow alleyway behind Club Dirk had been all but abandoned save for the man resting at the enclosure facing the street. Sitting upon a weathered lawn chair in the midst of all the worst grime and filth of the city, Grain held out his right palm open to the sky. A projection showing the latest news reports from ten different news channels appeared from the small gadget the size of a wristwatch he held. Grain was not very interested in what the newscasters had to say. Instead he watched lackadaisically at the scrolling stock market fluctuations and miscellaneous headlines which were unimportant enough to be left out of the spoken portion of the news. Groaning at the several coded alerts he had seen, Grain pulled a small business card out from the left pocket in his slacks. The card was blank except for a word and a letter: Pretender G. The back door into Club Dirk slowly swung open and a meek, anorexic looking bald man poked his head out from the noisy, base booming club.
“S-s-s-sir, I be-believe they’ve called a meet. Meet. Meeting. Sir. Should I get your j-jacket and cap?” Grain rolled his eyes at the bumbling stutterer’s words without looking back at the speaker.
“No Dunkirk. Go back inside before you let others know a door exists back here.” Grain seemed to linger on the word door. Doors were notorious omens to people of his kind and especially his status. His was a being and status untouchable even by the secret departments of the law enforcement and the criminal underground. But that did not mean Grain lived in a life of secrets and unknown. “I believe instead I will walk as I am. Good night Dunkirk.” At this dismissal of duty Dunkirk closed the door behind his departure from the alleyway and Grain could hear a couple firm clanks as the bolt locks on the door were triggered.
The hologram images disappeared as Grain clenched his hand and pocketed the small device. In quick succession he proceeded to dust off the black business suit he wore, ruffle any dirt from his scraggly muddy-blonde hair, summon his cane into his possession again, and with the jerk of his left hand the business card disappeared from sight. Once ready he began to hobble to the end of the alley way where a black limousine waited with the rear door open. Grain raised his hand as if to signal the limousine to carry on. Before the door closed Grain managed to throw his cane into the limo. Turning on his heels, he began to walk regularly towards city hall while looking up at the sky.
“Tonight, the elders can wait.”
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Posted: Sat Aug 11, 2012 1:46 am
"And that's how you get free drinks!" Two women walked alongside each other down the darkened street, arms linked while swaying drunkenly and tittering like a pair of raucous birds. Both were very good-looking – one was very tall for a woman, about six feet tall, with short purple hair, dark skin, wide hips, and a square, handsome look to her face. The other was at least half a foot shorter but quite voluptuous and had pale skin, deep violet eyes, and long black hair that fell in luscious waves to her thighs.
They were friends, and as par the course for their monthly bar-hopping had partaken in far too many alcoholic beverages and came out with a fistful of phone numbers procured via a variety of techniques. For the shorter woman, Amaia, she frequently relied on flashing generous amounts of cleavage, sweet compliments, and excessive fluttering of the eyelashes. Ozzy was a bit more forthright, and whole frequently drank men under the table, would be given contact information from a few admiring onlookers.
Such was their style and class.
“Heeeey, Oz, lookit that hotshot!” Giggling, Amaia waved at a sleek limousine passing them by. It could have been empty or full of vipers for all she cared, for her they were still a sight to see. Ozzy snorted, and waved as well, only because Amaia was doing it first.
“Fancy ride! I bet it’s rented, no one that classy is, haha, around here – we’re the classiest bitches on the block!” She raised her fist to the air with a hollering war cry, breaking into insane laughter as Amaia cracked up.
“You, you’re not even a cat person!”
“Aw, what’s cat’s got to do with it?”
“Oz, e’ryone knows cats are class! The, uh, the movie villain guy, with the cat! They’re evil and classy!”
Thinking nothing more of the limousine after that, they continued onwards, emboldened by liquor and unafraid of the night and what it held in Celestial City.
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2012 6:11 pm
 Where had the day gone? Veil stretched out the kinks in her back, her neck, he legs and groaned audibly. She could have sworn a moment ago it was a beautiful morning. Sitting back, she assessed her work so far. The figure was coming along nicely, a commission. Medusa; but not the monstrous Titan that she was always portrayed, but the epitome of femininity. She'd laughed to herself when she'd first heard what he client had wanted. For more than one reason. Was it irony? She wasn't sure, perhaps just coincidence. At any rate, it was quitting time and she was famished! Veil performed clean-up, washing and putting her tools away, then washing herself off. Clay was stubborn and it took some doing to finally scrub it off her skin. Cleaned, she pulled her hair out of the tie she'd put it in that morning so that it fell in a startlingly crimson cascade down her back. she ran her hands through it, much easier to do in her human form and sighed again.
What to eat, what to eat...She locked up her studio, passing the glass that read "V. Japori Glass Art and Sculpting" and headed down the street. Maybe something exotic, yes, that would be nice. There was an excellent restaurant nearby that served a delicious red lamb curry that made her stomach protest quite insistently. Her shop was located downtown a very popular area and with the fading light, the night life was picking up. Hiking her shoulder bag higher on her shoulder, she picked up her pace.
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Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2012 12:07 am
*this...this is interesting*
Lisali pushed past cardboard boxes and torn up newspapers. She had seen thousands f years, and would see thousands more. It was her curse, her salvation... Yet unbound, she walked through dark alley ways consious of the grumble in her belly and the biting chill of the night. Soon someone would find her and claim her for their bidding.
Once a glowing child of the Fae she cast aside her wings to save the humans who had once loved her. doomed to destruction from hunger and self inflicted war, Lisali gave herselve over to the Gods for the safty of those who cared once for her. And in that lost reincarnation and doomed to continue on in the world, witness to everything dark and wrong.
Lisali moved on carried by the breeze, shelter and food within hands reach, if only she were to grab for it. She pulled her cloak tighter around her small pixielike frame and stared out into the city, dark green eyes flashing in the streetlight as she made her way through the night.
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 4:13 pm
"Sorry, you're not my type." Grain had been rejected again.
Wondering why he turned away from the street to view himself in a restaurant' window's reflection. Ignoring the people inside, it didn't take long before he saw what he didn't like; it looked like he hadn't shaved or cut his hair in years. Without hesitation he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. It groomed itself immediately upon contact, shortening in length to the level of his forehead. Mere satisfaction would do as he then massaged his chin. The beard disappeared leaving nothing but the tiniest stubble.
"Now that, is much better. But something feels off." Grain's stomach began to growl as he looked at all of the people. So many delicious looking people. He stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, staring from person to person as his hunger got the better of his judgment.
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 11:36 am
"You know if you keep staring at them like that. Any moment, you'll cause a stampede. Sure, it'll be funny at first, but soon the noise will get on my nerves and I was hoping for a peaceful evening meal." She stopped her forward movement near him, flicking a lock of hair behind her shoulder and hoisting her bag higher.
She'd seen him as she approached her favorite restaurant. He stood in the window looking a little scruffy. But as she continued her forward progress she watched him run a hand through his hair and, voila!
Nice trick, she'd thought, taking in the rest of the picture, Interesting package too and then nearly laughed as he'd turned his gaze on the unsuspecting public. Good gravy, could you be any more obvious? It was in stark contrast to the desperation she'd felt not a moment earlier. Someone or something in an alley. She'd noted the presence and then dismissed it.
So now, here she stood, getting a closer look at the predator.
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 10:58 pm
Lisali walked onto the sidewalk. It was always disorienting to wake up by herself in a place she had never been before. Part of her curse. Always a different time, always a different place.
The silver key hung from her neck. Soon...soon she would come across the person who would take her into their service. She began walking along the side walk. blaring street lights... loud sounds. Lisali stumbled head on into a well kept gentleman. Fell to the ground.
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Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2013 8:01 pm
 Connor & Damien Connor roamed the streets of Celestial City and smiled as he looked around. The city really seemed to come alive at night. No doubt it had something to do with the other worldly creatures that lived there. He paused a moment, realizing that his brother, as always, had not kept up. A sigh escaped his lips, but he didn't bother to say anything.
"Why do you always walk so fast? We have all night," Damien said when he caught up. Connor merely shrugged and continued on. Of course, his brother was far too used to this and followed after him. Even if he couldn't take the slow pace he preferred, he was determined to enjoy the night.
They made their way to the main road just in time to see a limo speed by. It was quite strange to see the luxurious vehicle, but not completely unheard of. Still, many of the people that filled the sidewalks could be seen gawking at it. Conner didn't even seem to notice it, but Damien on the other hand was sufficiently distracted by it. He was so distracted in fact that he managed to run into someone.
"I'm sorry," he said before looking at the person he had run into fully. A blush spread across his face as he realized that it was a beautiful woman. He silently cursed himself for not paying attention. It didn't help him any that her companion was another lovely lady.
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 2:22 pm
While most in this great City were enjoying the life that can only be found going through the city, at least one unfortunate soul was forced to remain indoors, and confined to the couch in the living room in a lofty apartment near the top of a residential building. Pity him.
Pity him with the intensity of one-thousand suns..
"What!? No, no! That's not how you're supposed to do something like that!" Roland exclaimed, gesturing towards the television.
"What the hell kinda strategy is that!? Running in naked, covered in LEECHES would be more effective!" he continued, flailing his arms up in a slow, deliberate manner. Something was keeping him from moving normally. He rolled his one eye at the television and rested his head on his hand, which tapped the eyepatch over his left eye.
"Gonna MURDER this idiot if I see him..." he groaned in annoyance.
He looked down at his chest for a moment, moving away the braided ponytail that was serving as a literal necklace to observe the current condition.
The Thompson Assault Trooper's chest was wrapped up in enough bandages to make mummies jealous. It was clear whatever it was covering wasn't a scratch; The various bloodied, discarded bandages in the nearby waste bin was proof of that. With an approving grunt, he returned to his shows.
"I can't believe that little b***h wou-" Roland stopped in the middle of his rant, his one eye twitching.
"YOU USELESS LITTLE s**t!!" he barked.
"YOU'RE WALKING RIGHT INTO RICA'S TRAP LIKE A LEMMING!! IT'S NOT LIKE SHELIA'S PLOY WAS ANY BRIGHTER, YET YOU WALKED RIGHT PAST THAT!! RICA DOESN'T LOVE YOU LIKE ALICE DOES!!" he yelled.
....Roland had gotten so bored with the usual channels, that he was now focused on some Soap Opera...As to which one? <******** if I know. I ain't goin' NEAR that TV screen...
Ahh, the madness caused by Cabin Fever..
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 7:46 pm
The night had the usual buzz of life. The hum of the streetlights and the clamor of people were ignored by MacGregor. The woman sat in the driver seat of a parked city police car. The static of the radio periodically interrupted the silence. She looked over to her partner.
“Hey.” She barked, startling the other man. He sat up and looked at her.
“What?!” He exclaimed. The short woman shrugged.
“Do you think this’ll be another quiet night?” She looked as a couple was walking along the sidewalk, perhaps going on a date.
“I dunno.” Her partner said simply, looking at his phone quickly before looking around the city from his seat. She grimaced to herself. It was going to be a long night for MacGregor.
“Didj’ya catch the article from the paper this morning?” She asked, hopeful. Her partner wasn’t very talkative and she always felt awkward trying to keep a conversation going. “Someone from the local university was sayin’ they were suspectin’ that the weird things happening ‘round here are somehow related to the activity picked up on their SETI satellites or somethin.” She ended up mumbling. The man was looking at his phone again. “What are you, married to that ‘r something?”
She started the car’s engine and began driving down the street, making sure the people were safe. Though she hoped to make an arrest, MacGreggor did prefer that this would be another quiet night. flicking her turn signal, the woman smiled, thinking of the slice of coffee cake awaiting her at home.
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 9:06 pm
The lovely pair didn’t get all that much further down the street in their drunken chatter over the innate moral and socioeconomic standing of cats. Amaia, the further-gone of the duo, seemed to have suddenly made a new friend, in the shape of an equally-distracted young man who had plowed into her.
Well, it was more like a bump, really – Amaia’s bust was as generous and as merciful as her personality, and there was just no tactful way to phrase it. They really did act like perfect airbags sometimes.
“O-Oh!” She immediately looked up at the man, her cheeks pink from both having imbibed too much, and from the embarrassment of literally plowing into a stranger on the street.
“I’m so sorry Mister Cute Sir, I was just thinking about cats and, uh…” Her nonsensical apology trailed off as her friend Ozzy – the tall to her short, the dark to her light, and the roar to her whisper – started cackling madly, finding the whole thing just excessively hilarious.
“Amaiaaa, you shoulda told me we were playing for extra credit!” Ozzy stepped forward to flank her friend, and put a strong, rough hand on the man’s shoulder. “Did you want to bring this one home as a pet?”
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Posted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 11:44 am
Connor & Damien Damien's blushed deepened when the woman called him 'Mister Cute Sir.' Despite how 'cute' he might have been, most women merely ignored him. Many of the other creatures that called this town home were far more alluring than his kind. So, when he did receive a complement or something remotely like one, he wasn't quite sure what to say.
His eyes widened when the second woman joined the conversation. She was intimidating and her words led him to believe that he was definitely not going to like where this was going. "I-I, uh," he stammered trying to find any words to say. Why did he have to be so incompetent? It was times like these that confirmed what almost everyone thought of him. He was definitely not alpha material.
Connor abruptly stopped when he heard what the woman said. His usually laid back demeanor was replaced with enmity towards her. He grabbed her wrist firmly and removed it from his brother's shoulder. He bared his teeth much like a wolf would before speaking.
"We are no one's pets," he said, his voice was low and serious. As he spoke, he stepped close enough that he could smell the alcohol on her breath. He ignored Damien's wide eyes and attempts to pull him back. His full attention was on the woman. No one touched his brother. It didn't matter who it was or how drunk they were.
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Sep 24, 2013 9:22 pm
Roland was not alone. His companion for the evening winced, fluffy pale feline ears pressed against her head, and her tail swishing anxiously. Of all the people that had to babysit him tonight, why did it have to be her?! She wasn’t a nurse, she was a cleaning lady – actually, forget at-home nurses, this guy needed to be in a hospital. He was all bandaged and… and… Sammy shivered violently. Within two minutes of walking in the door, she had gotten a glimpse of the bloody bandages and fainted on the spot. She was still on the floor technically, but sitting up and leaning against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chin. She had found a spot just around a corner where she could still be close enough for Roland to ask her for something, but pointedly facing the opposite direction of him and his bandages. She wasn’t touching those, not in a million years.
“….. And is a fictional character named Rica really worth shouting over?” Sammy asked quietly. “You should be resting.”
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