Posts by sairey

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  • sɪɴ, ɢʀᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ. [[ CHATTING/PLOTTING ]]

    [size=8]you're here basically 24/7 but you dont DO anything
    so what do you do
    refresh the unread replies a zillion times an hour?
    because thats totally not what I do at all


    pre-made characters! whooo! C; i guess those characters are reserved since you guys are so much quicker than i am. c:

  • // new clan plot discussion // private //

    [size=8]Yeah, I was suggesting that we create a few special terms translated into some "ancient ancestral speak" for the Legion's use only, like "demon" or "destiny." Important and sacred terms as well, for example, titles for our ranks. I know they already have names, but for special emphasis or formality, cats could divert to the older way of addressing the other. Kinda like Parseltongue in Harry Potter in the way that only a few can understand and speak it. And much more limited. Parseltongue is an entire secret language that few have access to (but it's not used the majority of the time, which makes it more special). Our language could be the same in that way, but much more old. Through the ages, language changes dramatically (as it does with humans, too) so the language could have really went through drastic changes throughout the centuries. It could have been lost somehow, maybe by the death of a significant healer or elder.


    Meh. *shrugs*

  • and мy realιтy ιѕ everyone elѕe'ѕ ғanтaѕy [paғp]

    [align=center][img width=510 height=214]http://i273.photobucket.com/al…ne/GIFs/SebastianStan.gif[/img]
    [size=19pt]LIONEL DARENSWORTH[/size]
    [img width=510 height=80]http://fontmeme.com/newcreate.…ize=60&style_color=FFFFFF[/img]


    [size=8][font=georgia][color=black][ I'll have Lionel stumble upon her again. Get her to calm a little bit down before he speaks or he won't ever be able to get through to her, okay? Lolol. c: ]


    "Whoa; hey, there..." The voice, softer and gentler than he'd even ever heard used by himself, seemed to have come out of the blue and into the open, dark atmosphere of the night. Fireflies and tiny insects buzzed around, leaving traces of harmonic, miniscule kingdom harmonies in his eardrums and cacophonies of symphonies in the background of a lullaby soundtrack. His eyes were darkened by the lack of sunlight in the sky, but a twinkle of a white moon stood out brightly in each of them nevertheless, signalling that they were as wide as the expanse of starry night was. Eyebrows were drawn together, creating an escalated land mass in the patch of skin right between them and above the ridge of a slightly-bumpy nose that the young prince possessed. The charming display smile was replaced by a concerned frown, a twist of the lips, a jerk of the chin, and crinkles near his eyes that weren't crow's feet. A soft, unheard sigh left the young Lionel's lips when he saw the wretched, miserable, sobbing princess leaning against the wall of the fort, hands in front of her face and her black spill of hair dangling over her knees. Her knees were shaking. Her shoulders were shaking. Hell, her whole damn body was shaking with the force of her silent cries and it was all too unbearable for Lionel to just stand there and observe her pain. That would make him some sort of sick, unfortunate soul who had been born to hold his head high and never succumb to the pains of others, and he wasn't that. He just wasn't. He had a living heart and a throbbing system of veins and a whole body to feel what his mind wanted to perceive. An aching lump entered his own throat and he felt like crying out aloud at the melancholy sight of the previously fierce and stubborn princess Petrova reduced to tears because of her family's actions towards her -- that much was obvious. What else would bend a strong young woman's heart so? Other stable-maids and common-folk wouldn't have the strength to compare to hers, her regal, almost arrogant way of holding herself even as she was out and about. She hadn't showed Lionel much of her monarch side, and Lionel was beginning to doubt that she even possessed a set of royal morals fit for dinner tables and courteous ballroom dances. She certainly seemed to have a sensitive side, so why couldn't she adapt to certain reasonable manners and politeness at times? Maybe it was all inside of her -- the moral code was there, but the will to exert it wasn't, and that was why her father and mother seemed to be so disappointed in her?


    It wouldn't do to stand there and ponder the possible reasons why her royal mother and father didn't seem the least proud of her. Lionel hadn't followed the sobbing princess outside to watch her sob like a pitiful little girl. He had wanted a word with her after the dinner, of course, but had been prepared for an unexpected situation such as this, being the rather prepared soul he was. There he had been, just starting to walk into the grand dining hall after Darina, but before he had even been seated by one of the many table waitresses and table waiters strutting around with their surprisingly tidy and white outfits, he had been caught in the middle of a group of guests themselves, and had had no way of getting around them for a couple of minutes. This had been enough time for Darina and her father to get buried right into another one of their common arguments. This was how it came to be that Lionel had not a bite to eat for supper tonight, as the woman he was to marry soon had stormed out of the great hall almost the second he could get through the swarm of people. At that moment, when the young man saw the other rushing out of the dining area, he decided to follow her. It was the only rational thing he could think to do at the moment; the other choice Lionel Darensworth could have made was pretend to not have spotted Darina and continue on to the dining table, where her parents were obviously expecting him. However, his heart wasn't made that way. He was not a robot, merely carrying through with duties and missions and various commanded tasks.


    Unsure how to approach the obviously upset princess, who was slumped against the fort wall, grimy and tattered as a rat in the sewers, the young, dark-haired prince settled for stopping a decent few feet away from the crumpled up human being, his eyes dark and shadowed with slight confusion and pain. "Princess Darina?" he asked quietly, almost inaudibly, waiting for her to look back up at him. "Do you want to talk about whatever it may be that's upsetting you?"


    [img width=510 height=81]http://fontmeme.com/newcreate.…ize=60&style_color=FFFFFF[/img]