I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Character Relationship Status
Single
Character Appearance
Ashlia's face was a heart-shaped canvas, with a pointed chin and a forehead slightly narrower than her cheeks. Her large, expressive eyes were like polished emeralds, glowing with an inner light even when she seemed distant. Her slender eyebrows arched gracefully, giving her a look of perpetual curiosity. A small, delicate nose with a gently concave bridge complemented her thin, pressed-together lips, which lent her a subtly melancholic air.
Her skin was smooth and fair, adorned with a light scatter of freckles across her cheeks and nose, adding a touch of natural charm. Despite the paleness of her complexion, there was a warmth beneath, suggesting a faint, natural blush. Her cheeks held a delicate curve, giving her face a soft, ethereal quality. Long, pointed ears arched back gracefully, adding to her elven features. The sleeves of her garment hung languidly, framing her shoulders in soft folds of faded linen. Her small, delicate hands, with neatly trimmed nails, moved with an elegant grace, each gesture a subtle dance of tendons beneath her skin.
Character Personality
- Dreamer
- Naivete stemming from a sheltered upbringing, spent mostly confined to her sickbed or lost in the pages of books.
- Oblivious/Demisexual
- Emotionally volatile; shifting swiftly between extremes such as euphoria or despair but rarely fury.
- Depression/Anxiety/Self-loathing
Character Likes
Ashlia finds solace in the world of books, where myth and history blend into epic narratives of heroism and divine intervention. Her heart races at the thought of transformation and redemption, drawn to tales where flawed characters rise above adversity to claim victory. Nature's splendor captivates her—towering trees, shimmering lakes, and fields of wildflowers are her sanctuaries. The scent of blooming lavender, the melody of birds, and the gentle touch of sunlight fill her with a profound sense of joy.
Her tastes mirror her love for comfort and sweetness, as she shuns anything sour or tart. Citrus fruits and vinegar-based dressings hold no appeal; instead, she finds delight in honey cakes, ripe berries, and creamy custards. The struggle of chronic insomnia finds her often under the stars, where she loses herself in their myths and constellations. By night, she scribbles in her journal, weaving fantastical tales of magic pinecones and elusive shadowy creatures, her imagination boundless and her spirit unyielding.
Character Dislikes
In the dimly lit room, Ashlia sat at the edge of her chair, her senses tingling with unease. The tang of citrus fruits and the sharp bite of vinegar-based dressings were more than mere flavors to her; they stirred unsettling memories of sickness and confinement, leaving her stomach in knots. The abrupt sound of loud noises made her flinch, a visceral fear of being startled and unprepared seizing her. Conflict, with its thick tension and underlying hostility, was a wellspring of anxiety, sending her mind spiraling into a labyrinth of worries and doubts.
Ashlia cherished her time, reluctant to be rushed or hurried. The luxury of thoughtful deliberation was a precious respite from the chaos of urgency. Artificial fragrances, with their cloying sweetness, assaulted her sensitive nose, their synthetic nature clashing with her refined sensibilities. The sight of her own reflection in a mirror was no less distressing; the glass seemed to distort her image into a grotesque reminder of her flaws and shortcomings. In crowded spaces, where bodies pressed together, she felt a gnawing discomfort, a sense of being overwhelmed and lost amidst the sea of faces.
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Violence, Realistic, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure
About the Writer (OOC)
I am a long-time roleplayer and DM looking for a writing partner or roleplay group to immerse in. I prefer more generic fantasy over fandoms or anime and will avoid SMUT over plot. The lengths of my responses will match yours, but my style remains the same; present tense, third person, no inner monologue. If interested please send a PM with your character and/or plot ideas.
P.S. I am also interested in rules-lite free-form roleplaying
OG World Building:
In the past when I was not an adult, and had plenty of free time, I created two original worlds and consistently DMed for a group of around 7 or so. I was so invested that I made maps, lore and over-arching plots that extended into the cosmos.
Placeholder
One of them had a Witcher theme with three variably fleshed-out countries. One was inspired by Roman culture (albeit in a fantasy setting and probably not accurate in the slightest). This country is a meritocracy. Another is set in the 1400s when 'witchcraft' was a death sentence (these people are religious fanatics, but to be fair, sorcerers are a danger to society). The third country is best described as 'Skull Island' but from a monster manual. These countries shared a border so it was very easy to intermingle any character design and furthermore, due to the overarching plot characters could come from alternate worlds. I never decided on a name for the universe so it was affectionately referred to as 'Placeholder'. In contrast to Gihera below, spell-casters are all purely sorcerous in nature, obtained through a plethora of methods, but all with an origin with a demi. Demi's are creatures of pure magic with ties to forgotten gods and otherworldy beings that once walked Placeholder, before they abandoned it.
Gihera
Gihera, my second creation, is a magitech country heavily influenced by the elemental planes and their elemental beings. In this world, everything possesses at least one affinity, usually determined by genetics. Magic in Gihera is heavily regulated by law and treated like a university science degree. Upon graduating, students become civil service officials who can be called upon to do any manner of government work. There are no sorcerers in this world; everyone is born ordinary until they are permitted to perform a ritual of awakening at one of the mysterious stone obelisks that dot the world. Some centuries ago, the government banned the public use of these obelisks, building universities around them or heavily guarding the facilities that house them.
Comments
(Thanks for accepting my friend request! If you ever want to plot a future rp, feel free to send me a message)
Nice OC and OG material.
Would be interested in delving into either one you have written about. Message me if you're interested.
Thanks for the invite! 😁
I'd love to thread with you! Did you have any plots in mind or roles you need filled? I'd be happy to throw around some ideas with you!
Thank you for the warm welcome! I am keen to get some connections for Ashlia so let me know if you want to collaborate.
Thanks for accepting my friend request! Your char is pretty! I haven't finished reading the bio yet but welcome to the site as well!
Open invitation to RP:
A woman sits cross-legged under the ancient oak tree, its gnarled roots twisting upwards like nature's own fingers. Fiery locks cascade down her back, framing her delicate face in a halo of warm sunlight filtering through the leaves. From a distance, her blank gaze suggests a faraway sadness, her cheeks appearing deathly pale. Occasionally, her lips twitch, pursing slightly as if she's lost in thought. Her slender hands rest lightly on the ground beside her, the sleeves of her tunic hanging limply around her wrists. A faint breeze rustles the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp lines of her jawline and nose. In the stillness, her chest rises and falls with each measured breath, a steady rhythm within her frail frame.
The air around her is heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The rich aromas blend with the gentle hum of insects, creating a soothing background melody, occasionally interrupted by the snapping of small twigs and the soft sway of branches. A spider web clings tenaciously to the trunk of the tree, its intricate network glinting with morning dew. Her gaze remains fixed on some invisible point beyond the trees, her mind seemingly lost in reverie. From where you stand, her fingers can be seen absently combing through the dry grass, plucking individual blades and examining them intently. Every now and then, the corner of her lip twitches faintly, and the emerald light emanating from her eyes wanes.
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