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Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para


Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Violence, Realistic, Rated R, 18+, Action, Adventure


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  • [I apologise for the sudden hiatus, I hope to plot..]

  • “Oh. What ride would that be? As for your men, I’m over it. Men will be men, regardless of the species.  Some are more stupider then most, a few are smarter then most.   “

     

    She arched a brow when he mentioned a job, hiring her.  That was something she was not expecting to hear from him or tonight for that matter. Since she had no clients at this moment in time, she supposed it couldn’t hurt to hear the man out.  

     

    “Alright. I’ll bite. You want to hire me. I’ll hear what you have to say.  I guess I don’t need to audition since you already witnessed me in action.  Just to say upfront. I’m not some killer for hire. I deal in protection, not execution. It helps me sleep at night. I protect lives, even if perhaps they don’t deserve it, and not take them if I can avoid it. I leave the decision of who lives and who dies to my......... to God.”

     

    She was about to say, my father, but the man might think she was Creasy if she claimed god was her father in a sense that was different then humans did and she certainly didn’t want to go revealing she was an angel. Not yet at least. 

     

    “Plus. Take a life is easy. Protecting a life is harder and I like. Good challenge. Life isn’t easy so why should I chose the easy path? In line of work that is. “

  • ||Hey Arch, long time no see||

  • An invitation as good as any other. Light reflecting off the chains that drape around Iaophae's curvaceous hips bounce off the yellowish tones in his eyes, casting tricks of light that give the illusion his eyes glow golden like a predator. Reality would sooner assign the thick-accented woman to take on that role, however. Zach is tense as her hands run down his defined body, his muscles pulled taut under his tanned flesh. The top he wears underneath the unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt is thin in material, flimsy almost. He feels every one of Iaophae's digits caress him and it sends a chill down his spine.

    Girls have known to leave him breathless from time to time. It's always the forward one that sends his heart racing and imagination turning like somersaults into the furthest most secluded corners of his mind. He's weak for the womanly kind. The shut-up-and-let-me-take-the-wheel kind of woman. Not that he adverse to the more placid and gentle woman, only he tends to overlook their intentions. While he's an observant man as much as he can be, Zach is naive. His intentions are always in the right place, but the man is dumber than a toolbox. It'll take a strong woman for Zach to even recognize someone has an interest in him.

    This, however, isn't really the scene for romance or passionate meetings. It's a place full of lust and quick singular-pumped happy endings that are soon forgotten the moment a customer walks out the exit. Things that happen here, stay here. Or. maybe they don't stay here at all. Married men swallow the key to these memories as soon as they are over. Eager to enjoy a humble meal with his wife and children the following night without suspicions of his late-night 'business meetings'. Those who work here are also bound to their secrecy. Perhaps not by a legally binding contract, but out of decency. Some don't ask, others, well, God forbid a married man to become involved with one of those sorts.

    Zach is not married. He is by all accounts entirely single. So, he follows Ioaphae's lead without guilt or reluctance (aside from a healthy sum of nervousness). As their hands connect, it's increasingly clear that Zach is human. The cover his friend doused them in is not effective in close range, which could spell news for them later in the evening on the off chance a visiting vampire is peckish. Human or not, Zach's hands are warm and calloused. They are both rough and large yet surprisingly gentle with the amount of pressure he applies.

    The cyclops catches Zach's eye right off the bat as they pass. The footballer swallows hard and tries his very best to make all of his six feet and three inches to appear as small as he can. Anybody would write it off as a clever costume, or a birth defect caused by an unfit mother. Zach's seen enough things to question reality, and he'd rather not get involved in anything when this was meant to be a fun night out. He keeps to himself.

    Before entering the room. Zach delivers a coy smile. It's exactly like he would have imagined it to look like. Flashy and dark with hints of adultry scenting the air. His parents would fall into a coma should they ever learn their poor son walked into a place like this. The thought of it makes him want to be here even more. A rebel inside takes Zach confidentally to the couch where he takes a seat and settles in. Looks like the real show is about to begin.

  • Ask anybody that has been in the vicinity of Roman and their opinion will surely be more or less the same. The cambion is a shallow person with little regard for the emotions of those around him. While he might be adept at playing the part of a concerned friend, the legitimacy of his concerns has been questioned on multiple occasions. Roman's level of empathy is certainly not up to par with some of his more sensitive counterparts, but he is not blind to the emotional infliction of others. In fact, the twang of hollow pain that throbs outward of Cass' energy presents itself to Roman sixth senses like a visible glow of ripples through water. Assuming that Roman cannot identify emotions and feel them in response is untrue. It is, however, true that he does not always respond in the best way.

    Can he be blamed for being selfish? 

    Honestly, he thinks the number of demons that have developed an unusual understanding of human emotions is at fault here. Roman is left looking worse than the average demon for his inability to correctly respond to emotional pain. When in truth, he is berated for possessing a trait completely expectant of his kind, whereas, those of his kind who have ventured too left of their nature are celebrated are friends. He won't lie - his fiance is one. But, perhaps Roman has it all wrong, in the end. Perhaps it really is him whose emotional intelligence is lacking in development. The truth of the matter lies in the sad reality that Roman spends too much time wondering what is beneficial for himself rather than what is beneficial for others. Whether that will change or not, is for another time.

    He frowns at Cass, not sure what to make of the man's subtle shift noticed in his aura, but quickly decides to brush off the emotion hitch. Thoughtful, Roman leans his head from left to right to juggle up his train of thought, "he has many names," he says, "I guess it all depends which one you prefer." He pauses for a moment, considering his own words, then as he decides he says, "recently, I like Casimir. Azazel is nice too."

    Roman won't pretend to be a shifter expert (actually, he would), so he treads forward with some uncertainty. "Maybe it's emotion," he suggests, poking an index finger against Cass' shoulder as if to spark some type of reaction out of the man. "You know, like... there is a disconnect between you now and you when you shift - ah, how do I explain?" Roman purses his lips together and tucks one hand under his chin. "Work on.. finding common ground? Something that even the most basic part of you understands. Love, even, some might say. Hatred, that works too but it's probably not the easiest to find control in." He throws out ideas like he's excitedly working on a classroom project than a real person's life. That's Roman for you.

    "Dreams?" He perks up some like a kid in a candy store. "Dreams are fun."

    Roman can't see others dreams per-say, not can he enter them like some beings can. But it's a thing he's learning to work towards. What he can do is read emotional clues and energy waves that give him some insight to others dreamily worlds. It's not quite the same as directly being there, but it's better than what some can do, he thinks. It's a work in progress, really. Practice makes perfect.

  • (How would you like Malachai and Dmitry to cross paths?  Since both are criminals in a sense. Maybe some members of the gang that Kai is a part of, starts stepping on Dmitri’s territory. Because Kai wants to expand his Turf and this causes problems for your chsracter’s Buisness fealings or whatever. So maybe he himself or some men, go to take care of the troublesome gang. 

    Thry could cross paths that way. Maybe things go wrong and the big boss comes to see what happens. Sees what Kai and his gang can do or Kai can and maybe offer him a job. Haha. As a thug, a gangbanger/ gangster, he is not above making money and what not, by questionable means. )

  • Unbeknownst to either of them, an abusive past was something they had in common; but unlike Cthylla, that part of Judar’s past didn’t faze him as much. He has a callous nature, sure, but even he had certain limits. While still gazing at the timid female, Judar remained somewhat in awe over the fact that a Djinn was casually walking around in the open. Maybe she thought no one would sense her? Perhaps so, since not everyone processed Rukh like he did. His fascination with Cthylla led Judar to follow her movements – both when she walked towards him and when her hand moved away from the package she held, resulting in the magi to notice the tattoos along her hands. A sun and a moon, with unique patterns and vines that decorated from her hand to her wrist. An interesting choice to say the least, but was it simple artwork along Cthylla’s hands or was there something more to them? He pondered over that momentarily.

    Though the sound of Cthylla’s voice caused Judar to redirect his attention back to her, noticing how surprised she appeared by his suggestion. A faint chuckle emitted from the magi before responding. "That’s what I’m offering, yes." Again there didn’t seem to be much of a choice, but hearing her one-worded confirmation caused that devious smile of his to reappear when making his way to the alleyway’s opening. But now there was the more pressing issue of finding his aunt. Something that Cthylla seemed to pick up on, then again he wasn’t aware of the obvious look of concern on his face.

    Silence was kept as Judar thought about what to say. Cthylla was now travelling alongside him, so the least he could do was tell her what was bothering him, right? "... Before our encounter I was with someone else. I think I walked too far from where we last were together, because I don’t see her." Worry overtook the tone of his voice before Judar began to walk back in the direction that he came from. Unlike the pair, Imani was a non-magical being. She was in no way helpless, but after losing his mother, the last thing Judar wanted was to lose another loved one. A marketplace of all places wasn’t really dangerous, so perhaps one would assume that he was overreacting. But the only people left in his family were his aunt and her son – his cousin.

    Assuming that she kept close to him, the pair ventured back towards a familiar meat shop. Again the magi looked around, but to no avail. Judar probably would have begun to panic in that moment...had it not been for a swift hit to the back of his head. The strike didn’t actually hurt, but the sudden blow still caused him to bend his head forward slightly before his right hand moved to rub the area. "Fuck.." The loud clearing of one’s throat was instantly heard afterwards.  "Language, Judar." He quickly turned around – seeing the very person he sought. Relief instantly washed over Judar’s features. "There you are." Imani chuckled faintly while adjusting the bags she had, having bought a few more items. "There you are. I was wondering where you had gone to." Arms then wrapped around his aunt in an embrace. Yes, he was that worried – enough to unintentionally expose part of his caring side to Cthylla. A rare sight to see, if she happened to look.

    Judar’s abrupt affection left Imani unaware that he wasn’t alone. "Hm?" Her hazel eyes noticed the unknown female moments later, seeing that she lacked any hijab, but the oldest still kept a friendly expression while slowly pulling down the part of her own hijab that covered her mouth. "Well hello. Are you a friend of my nephew?" Despite the question being for Cthylla, Judar took it upon himself to answer. "No, we’re not friends. We’re just keeping each other company for now." Imani could only arch her eyebrow at the response before looking over at her nephew, whose expression looked less than innocent.

    It caused the older female to wonder what had occurred between the pair. She still wasn’t sure why Judar ran off to begin with, but a few assumptions were now starting to form. A swat to the magi’s arm occurred as a result, a signal for him to let her do the talking. Imani then gave Cthylla a warm smile before continuing. "Do forgive our manners. My name is Imani, and I see you’ve already met Judar. May I ask what your name is?" It then suddenly dawned on Judar – he never did ask what Cthylla’s name was, or even introduced himself. Not that it troubled him, but now he was curious to hear what she would say.

  • Kei watched her turn away with what was a scowl of a stare, past the point where she could see it. Fucking kids, he thought. Analyzing from the start of the night to his current point, he was almost hoping for an easy night. A normal murder. Something humane that he could toss over his shoulder and forget for the night. “When I find ‘em before it happens, or the cops don’t beat me to it… the second one could be arranged.” He answered; it was a proposition to himself more than anything. Soon enough, his eyes went from the teen who had turned, to just over his shoulder. A single thought came to mind.

    …Shit.

    He didn’t have time to think any further on the beast at the end of the hall, standing as a skeletal mess of bones and dark, matted fur that seeped the dark substance onto the ground below. He had problems before that. As Sirius suddenly hit the ground, instinct threw him back a few steps. Without another moment’s hesitation, his vision blurred. Like blackened dust, particle by particle the curse suppressed was let loose. Scarred bone took over where flesh had once resided, hollow sockets trying to now comprehend what he was seeing.

    -

    Fucking kids- He’d said that, hadn’t he? There was no longer any kid before him. The hair on the back of his neck rose as the beast took form, shifting in a manner that left little time to comprehend what was happening. As the heat rose off the wolfish creature’s pelt, several more steps back were taken into the bedroom space where he had dropped his investigation, right then and there. “Wolves- it always has to be fucking wolves?!?” His now raspy, hollow tone shouted aloud incredulously from behind. One thing he knew: he was no longer a contender in the space.

    Ahead of them both, the blackened wolf was taking steps forward. From its maw, a gurgle of a snarl was ripped out of its throat, the black tar substance seeping between rotted canines, with a smell that matched their appearance. Its head lowered several inches, front talons digging deep into the carpet as joints bent: readying itself to charge.

    Before the tension in the blackened wolf’s body could lash out, Kei’s own, now-feline ears quivered from where they were previously pinned back to his skull.  He heard police sirens off in the distance—a single car. Shit.

    Suddenly, the beast was charging. One or two long strides worth would get it down the hallway if permitted- the third and it would be on top of Sirius- or rather, the creature he’d once sworn was the teen.

  • (I still owe you a reply. Had some little drama mishap that made me lose the muse for a bit on here. Will reply soon. Haven’t forgotten. )

  • The so called Mistress of All Evil despised visitors for the most part. She had created a grim looking mansion nearly a century ago on the outskirts of London in an effort to be close to a certain hybrid. The gate surrounding her estate stood almost ten feet tall and was coated in vines with thorns the size of steak knives. The locals commonly referred to her home as the haunted mansion, much to her son's amusement. Even if one did manage to make their way over the wall and avoid the vines there was still her garden to worry about. A vast garden containing an assortment of enchanted flowers sat on either side of the walkway leading up to her door.

    When Shai set foot outside her home the gate was already open as if the sorceress was expecting company. The same vines coating the gate also coiled around the pillars just ahead of the doorway. When the young man stepped close the vines moved in the opposite direction. Shortly after his initial knock the door opened revealing an unhappy looking man with lifeless black eyes and bird-like features. "What do you want", the creature hissed. He was dressed in a suit and tie making it obvious that he worked as the owner’s butler. His hair was a mixture of strands and black feathers, several of which managed to fall off his head as he examined the visitor. The book caught his attention immediately but he chose to hold off on asking about it.

    "Let the young man in, my pet." Her voice echoed through the mansion. Before she could say another word, Diablo opened the door and gestured for Shai to step inside. The door was shut behind him and the odd looking man quickly transformed back into a large black raven. The bird flew over to the flight of stairs and perched on the railing waiting for Maleficent to make an appearance.

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