Posts by rumpel

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]Hi Softie!

Would you be up for either a The 100 plot, or a plot concerning children who have mental illnesses? I have a basic plot for both. However, with the The 100, I'm still on Season 1 so that might cause some problems.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]OMG why yes, yes it is. I'm on season 2. Right where Hook is introduced. Who, if I might add, is very hot. But I guess I have a thing for pirates because Captain Jack Sparrow isn't too bad looking either.

Anyways, for The 100. I have a small idea which has not formed into any spectacular plot, so please bare with me. I was thinking of a general romance, of course. But with a twist. One character committed a crime and framed the other character for that crime. But, they were both made prisoners after the first character managed to unknowingly commit a small crime while framing the other character. Still with me? The second character does not know that the first character framed them and is intrigued by their mysterious personality. The second character tries to become friends with the first character, who remains mysterious and distant, however not in a particularly cold way.

That's really all I've got as of now. Eventually they would form a closer relationship. And, eventually, the truth would come out as well. But I'm trying to think of another major twist to add to it, as well as develop the reasoning behind the framing. Have any ideas? Perhaps something bad was going to happen to character two, and knowing that, character one framed them to save their life.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]I don't mind playing the male at all. And, with that, I think if I am to play the male, perhaps I would be character one. A prince charming saving the damsel in distress, sort of thing. But I still don't know why he was framing her, and what he framed her for. Have any ideas?

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]No, that makes perfect sense! I like that idea a lot. She was going to test the new oxygen system and he wanted to save her from dying so he stole something and framed it on her. Perhaps he stole something very valuable, slipped it into her pocket, and then told someone.

What other details are we missing?

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]Okay, give me time to think about that one. I'm thinking that I'll probably figure it out in the thread. Would you be able to make it? I'll be gone for most of the day on a field trip. I think we should start it with them landing, if you want.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]I have a feeling you wrote this somewhere within the first couple of posts, but since I can't seem to find it, I'm going to ask anyways. When are the forms due? I'm almost done with mine, but I'm just curious.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]It wasn't a surprise to Lennon when a guard entered his cell, demanding in a stern tone that he rise from the floor. He had almost seemed to expect the unprecedented arrival with his cool demeanor, slowly rising to his feet from the center of his cell like demanded. Taking one last glance at Earth, which revealed itself through the window built into the ceiling. Taking the last fleeting moment to study it from his position in space, where he was soon to leave. Acting as his ancestors who left Earth years prior and were sent up in space. The circumstances, slightly different, however the purposes nearly identical. One home deadly, the other a hopeful refuge. So when he stood, he stood tall. His back straight and his chin up, his eyes fixed boldly on the guards who watched him intently. They were expecting a different response, and he could tell as they stood in silent bafflement, taking his attitude as an unexpected gift. There would be no reasons of concern with him for now as they instructed him to follow them out of his cell. Leading him with a smug stride, almost, because they thought they had beat him at his own game. But he was now playing an entirely different game.

Lennon had heard word of The Ark's classified plan to send the prisoners back to Earth in hopes to gain knowledge of whether it was survivable. They're keen interest on Earth now, for the oxygen supply was running low on The Ark. That too, was highly classified, and unbeknownst to the population in which were starting to feel the effects. There was a proposal of a new oxygen system which were to be tested before put into use. But the person of whom they chose to sacrifice was suddenly caught stealing a beautiful diamond necklace and they had no choice but abandon their plan and lock the girl up in a cell for her crime. And with no one else to think of sacrificing, they chose the next best option. Lennon was unaware of their plan until arriving in his own cell a day later, when a man passed by with a whisper. There was nothing Lennon could do now, locked away within the depths of The Ark, serving time for a crime he didn't mean to commit. If only they had known his real crime. He would've been floated immediately. Knowing this, he didn't bother to fuss. He managed to believe that, like so many other times, he could get himself out of it. But as time grew closer, he realized there was no way out. So he created a new game plan.

Silently taking a seat in the drop ship, he held out his arm, submissively allowing a woman attach a bracelet around his wrist. He needn't ask what it was, for the woman quickly explained what is was and why he had to wear it. It was a safety precaution, which he couldn't help but dismiss. It wasn't for the prisoners safety, but for The Ark's safety. Though he satisfied her with a small nod, glancing around the drop ship in hopes to find her. The girl of whom stole the diamond necklace. A stranger to him, and yet more than that in a convoluted way. Not even he himself could understand it, let alone her, who was unaware of his existence. But he was aware of hers. Sitting across from him, chatting with the people beside her. A nervous presence about her as they launched. Though, she did not get sick like a few others who couldn't hold back the sudden urge. Perhaps nervousness, or pure stomach sickness from the motion. Or perhaps both. Lennon couldn't deny the mere fact that in that moment, upon the rough landing, he felt nervous. It coursed throughout his body that was stiff in preparation, even moments after landing. He managed to get away fine. No injuries that he could sense. However some were not as lucky.

Slowly removing himself from his seat, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting the dead gaze of the young man beside him. A pool of blood trickling down his temple and onto his lap where his hands sat still, clenched to the seat. His head must've hit something on the way down. The drop ship did manage to nearly fall apart. Leaning forward, Lennon outstretched his hand, his fingers grazing the young man's face and gently shutting his eyelids and mouth. Soon they would have to get rid of the body, however it didn't seem their top priority as people rushed outside, running amok like wild animals. All of them losing sight of the dangers that Earth held. For once, Lennon stood aware of them. He acknowledged the dangers and decided not to flirt with them. Not yet, at least. This was much different than sneaking around The Ark.

[i]"This is amazing."

Lennon slowly glanced over his shoulder after her voice grazed his ears. She was beside him, though it was clear in her state of awe that she was talking to herself more than she was to him. And he was fine with that. She was thin ice, and he had to tread carefully on it. The last thing he wanted was for the truth to come out. There would be blood on his fair hands and he knew it. So he matched her pace silently, venturing off the ship and stepping onto the Earth's land. Grass was much different than he had expected, his feet unable to walk properly for a short moment as he realized the ground was not even like it had been in The Ark. There was nothing that The Ark could've done to prepare them for this. Nearly all of it, absent from The Ark, with no particular fault to them.

"Yeah." he managed to mumble under his breath, unaware of whether she would hear him. He wouldn't care, either way. He walked without a plan, and that made him nervous, for his old plan he threw out the minute they landed. His plan wouldn't of worked, so now he walked, trying to devise a new one as people ran past him, shouting. In the background, however, he could hear the cries of the young man's girlfriend, who shortly after Lennon shut his eyes, came running over and refused to leave him since. Being one who couldn't stand emotion of that measure, Lennon decided to leave them be, following Emmaline off the ship silently and to his own wandering thoughts. Lost and without any defense, he felt rather on edge. Though he walked calmly, determined to get it together immediately.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]Okay, so it's still a little rough around the edges so forgive me. But basically the plot takes place in the 1800's when mental illnesses had no scientific basis and were thought to be caused by religion. My character killed his parents due to his schizophrenia and was sent to his uncle's house to live because they couldn't prove he killed them. His uncle and aunt wanted nothing to do with him because they feared him very much. And because of that, they abused him. Your character would be a maid in the house around the same age. She is also weary of him but soon tries to form a relationship with him because she too has a mental illness, and knows how he must feel. It forms into a romance, of course. And I was also thinking of adding some drug abuse in it as well.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]I'll explain it in my post. Your character can have any mental illness you want. Uh, what other details are we missing? I can make the thread once we're finished plotting.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]Blood was contagious, spreading from the innocent flesh and onto the guilty hands. Trickling like a gentle waterfall onto the wooden floorboards where it formed a pool around the body of another innocent soul taken in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was close to rising. When the air was still and sleepy, death slipped through the front door and took two lives after a blade was forced through their necks, puncturing the major arteries. The action was quick, though their death was prolonged as both innocent victims crumpled against the floor in the kitchen, life leaving their eyes that were fixed on their only son who stood above them, watching until their last breath slipped through their blue lips. Perhaps, in their last fleeting moments, betrayal filled their heavy hearts, believing that he willingly committed such a heinous crime against them. However, there was much more to that simple theory, and they would never live to hear it.

Silent in the back of a carriage drawn by two built horses, Lennon sat beside the officer who arrived at his home hours prior, declaring Lennon innocent after he spoke his shaky account of what had occurred. He seemed to wholeheartedly believe that Lennon woke to his parents screams, and the sight of a figure fleeing through the front door. And after realizing that Lennon, at the young age of seventeen, was now an orphan, he decided that it was in his best interest to live with his only living relatives, his aunt and uncle, until he became an adult. However, unbeknownst to the officer, the relations between the two families were shaken after a petty disagreement a few years prior over the concept of slavery and the morals behind it. His aunt and uncle were strong believers, for within their affluent home and plantation, they owned several slaves. His parents, however, were strongly against the idea. And because of the conflicting opinions, the two families cut relations in a bitter rage.

Finally, after nearly a day of traveling, the two arrived the next morning to be greeted by a young black woman who stopped her work in the luscious gardens enveloping the front of the home to look up. Her face turned weary as she eyed them, rising to her feet as the officer instructed her to fetch her owners. She nodded briefly in response before turning her back and making her way into the large home. As they patiently waited, Lennon scanned the home. It hadn't changed very much in the years he had been absent. The bricks, perhaps a bit darker, and the wood freshly painted white. New rocking chairs on their front porch, empty and still in the gentle summer breeze. He pictured his uncle, leaned back in one of the rocking chairs, smoking a cigar with a grimace on his round face. The man never appeared happy back then, and as he slowly made his way out of his home with his wife trailing behind, his expression hadn't changed. However, perhaps he was more angry than Lennon has seen him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed as he glanced over at Lennon who sat quietly in place. His wife stood behind him, her arms crossed over her chest as she took a quick glance at Lennon. She hadn't laid eyes on him for several years, however those years did not change his appearance, but only matured him. Seeming dissatisfied, she quickly looked away, a huff escaping her thin lips. Lennon boldly watched the two, anger boiling within their bodies as the officer stepped towards them, hoping to calm them. He evidently didn't expect such a reaction, however Lennon did, and couldn't help but feel smug about it. Perhaps the officer wouldn't make him live with his aunt and uncle after all.

However, after several minutes arguing over the matter, it was decided that Lennon would in fact live with them. The officer reassured them that they would receive some form of compensation for their duties in caring for Lennon. And that if in fact they could no longer care for him, he could be sent to the city to find work. But that was the last thing the officer wanted for him, so he persuaded the couple to care for him as best they could manage. They promised to in a low grunt, shaking hands with the officer before he took a seat in the carriage, leaving Lennon standing alone a few feet away with a small trunk in his hand. Starring down at his uncle gently, frozen in place as his uncle returned the look with a sense opposite of gentle. But after a few moments, the uncle broke the gaze, instructing the young black woman to fetch someone.

And she did. Within moments, a young woman around Lennon's age walked up to his uncle. "Show our guest to his room." he ordered, his voice restricted as he glanced over at Lennon once more. "But don't let the Devil lure you into Hell." he added, loud enough for Lennon to hear. He was sure that his nephew killed his family, and the only thing keeping him from being sent to the city was the compensation they would receive. As the two passed, his uncle outreached his arm, wrapping his large hand around Lennon's upper arm. "Do not think you are going to get away with your crimes. You are the Devil's child, and you must be punished so." he growled, shoving Lennon towards the young housemaid before turning around. Looking at the young woman, Lennon could sense fear flash before her eyes. She was afraid of him. And he couldn't help but feel that she should be. He was dangerous, and even he himself knew that.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]The grass crunched under Landon's shoes as he walked, his light brown irises scanning his surroundings. Blocking out nearly everyone and focusing on the nature that now enveloped him. This was his home now, for however long he would survive, so he found it best to take it all in on a concentrated focus. The way the breeze slipped through the branches of the trees and grazed across his fair face, gently ruffling his hair. It was like a gentle fan, but smelled fresh and clean. Everything about earth, seeming so fresh. Down to the soil, which at times was softer when he took a step than at other times when it was more compacted. His head lowered and his eyes skimming the ground, he watched as a hand appeared. The slender fingers slowly picking a flower from the earth and vanishing from view. Until he looked up, over his shoulder, towards the girl who walked beside him. She had stopped to examine it, gently twirling it in between her fingers.

[i]"This is crazy." she had said moments prior, now speaking to him, of whom she now acknowledged. Lennon couldn't tell what she meant. Whether her comment had a positive or negative connotation. But with her soft pink lips gently curled into a small smile, he took it as positive. And he couldn't help but feel that she was acting naive. There were dangers on earth, but she didn't seem to quite understand. She would, soon enough, he knew. Pointing towards the sky, he followed her hand, his eyes fixing on the clouds. He had never seen them like this before. They seemed to hang so low, as if he could reach out and touch them. All of them, different in some sort of way, yet all floating in the same direction, staying close to one another. Like a family. At that moment, he couldn't help but think about his. Back at The Ark, suffering from oxygen deprivation. Their lives on the line.

Shaking the thought away, Lennon could see the girl turn her head towards him. Her lips parted, she spoke, "I'm Emma." Yes, he knew that. He knew more about her than she was aware. However, he was not going to let her know that. "What's your name?" At that moment he racked his brain, trying to find a solution to this sticky situation. One part of him wanting to get to know her, and the other part wanting nothing to do with her. But, after several moments of silence, he realized that if he were to survive, he needed an ally. Loners hardly ever make it in these situations, and he was not about to die just yet.

"Lennon." he finally spoke, clearing his throat after his name came out softer than he had expected. It had been awhile since he had spoken. "You can call me Lennon." he repeated, this time slightly louder. What was to come next, he couldn't predict, standing there waiting for a response. Waiting for her to hopefully take it with naivety, unaware of who he was and why he was standing beside her, on earth. He felt like he was an undercover spy, however this time, in more trouble than usual.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]So I finished the post but then my computer decided to freeze and not save any of it. So hopefully I'll be able to finish it soon.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]Here you go, Lionheart: http://warriorcatsrpg.com/inde…2.msg74895988#msg74895988

Hopefully it is okay. If you want me to change anything, please let me know. It wouldn't be much of a problem.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]White paint melted to the wooden deck, leaving behind a malevolent smile engraved within the rocking chair, laughing back at Lennon in mockery as he passed. Scratching at his ears as he stopped for a short moment in hesitation, ignoring the housemaid's ushers to follow her into the depths of the home. The laughing seemed to grow louder as it grew in wickedness, the teeth now sharp and the eyes red like the color of his parents blood. Perhaps it was his parents blood, soaking the chair and concealing the face that left its laughter as a gentle echo in the humid air. Coming together to form a figure until the blood washed away and revealed his father, leaned back in dismayed manner. Gently shaking his head at his son who stood there, frozen, blinking several times as if to wish away the image. Or, perhaps, to prove his insanity factual or not.

The mere idea that Lennon was born unique was evident within the early years of his childhood. As soon as he learned to speak properly, he began to speak to himself as he played. Almost as if someone else was there, filling the other half. But no one ever was, physically. His parents, though worried, ignored this insignificant incident. He was their first son, and they couldn't help but feel as if his behavior was normal, and that perhaps they had been overly concerned. So they let him mumble to himself, and considered him nothing more than a blessing until the day he stole their neighbors goat. He insisted after being caught that he did not want to do it, but the voices told him that if he did not steal the goat they would hurt him. Now concerned, his parents rushed him to the church, begging the priest to help their son. But the priest dismissed it, seeing nothing wrong with Lennon besides an overactive imagination.

"Go on, boy!" yelled his uncle, causing the rocking chair to turn white again, still in place. Turning his neck, he made eye contact with his uncle who was walking his way, his hand in the air and his finger pointing towards the open door. Glancing over, he realized the housemaid stood inside the home, holding the door open. She had been waiting for him to enter, for who knows how long. Taking a step back, Lennon took once last glance towards the rocking chair, which sat white and silent. He had been seeing things again, that was all.

The inside of the home didn't seem any different than he had last seen it. As soon as entering, he was greeted by a long hallway carpeted with a dark red rug. A round wooden table, small enough so that it could manageably hold the vase of flowers, in the center before the hallway split off. He felt positive that he could maneuver his way within the corridors with ease. Perhaps the only thing absent was the family portraits. Once with the whole family, though now missing three members. Lennon couldn't seem to mind, however. Sitting still for a painted portrait was never his favorite thing to pass time with. The rose colored wallpaper was darker than he had known, and the stairs seemed to squeak louder as the two of them slowly made their way up to the second floor. All of these small observations, important to him in a convoluted way.

Tucked away within the back of the home was where Lennon was to sleep. A small room with a window overlooking the plantation. And, his aunt and uncle who still stood outside, bickering over his presence. "He killed his own parents! For aught I know, he will kill us too!" Overcome with cogitations, he promptly raised his hand in the air and slapped her, sending shock throughout her petite frame. He had rarely ever raised a hand to his wife, but in that moment, he couldn't stand her voice. After a few moments of silence between them, he straightened out his back while clearing his throat. "Be it what it would." he said, his words soaked in a stern tone that she dared not defy. "I will not be overreached by the young shoat, I can assure you." And with that, he walked off towards the house, leaving his wife alone to her worried thoughts.

Turning around, Lennon glanced over at the housemaid. She had surely heard what was said. He tried to look past the fear plastered across her face. But there was nothing more than fear in her eyes, so looking down at the floor, he slowly sat his trunk by his feet. It was so quiet that he could hear his own heart beating against his chest. Perhaps she could hear it too. But no, he knew he was alone. Only he could hear his heart beat, and the voices that whispered in his mind. And, no matter how hard she tried, she would never hear them. He was their sole victim and nothing could change that.

"You don't have to address me as Sir." he said, a mumbled croak breaking the silence as he opened his trunk, beginning to rummage through the few items he brought. Clothes and some money, nothing more. In his previous economic state, he couldn't afford much. A new piece of clothing was a luxury. Looking up, he scanned her face once more. She was a pretty girl, he couldn't deny that. Her hair, soft in the afternoon sunlight that filtered through the window. And her eyes, twinkling back at him. He was sure that even in the darkness of the night he would be able to see her pretty eyes. "No." he mumbled out loud, his eyes on the floor as he gently shook his head, fiddling with the handle of his trunk. And then, abruptly standing, he dragged his trunk across the room and slid it under the bed. All while she stood there, watching him. And he realized this, forgetting he was not alone.

Straightening his back, there stood a timidness between the two of them. Both, afraid of one another in different aspects. Surely, he could manage to understand why she was afraid of him. But being afraid of her was beyond his comprehension. She was a housemaid. But there was a vulnerability with her in the same room as him. He couldn't seem to control himself at times, and with her judging eyes, he was sure she knew that already. Perhaps that was why she was scared of him.

OOC:
Oh, your post was amazing! No worries at all, dearie! I just hope I gave you enough to work off of. I didn't want to rush into things. I thought I would let the awkwardness set in before a full formed conversation took place.

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[justify][font=times][color=black][sup][sup]So I fixed the argument between the aunt and uncle so it resembled 19th century language a bit more.

I hope my post is okay. Let me know if you want me to change anything.