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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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  • ( Okay, so i'm FINALLy getting to replies and even while finding my replies and reading yours..i'm lost on what direction we wanted to go.  Maybe you don't remember either, or you're not interested in writing anymore, I'd understand. I'm so sorrryyy.  I just.. Here is a reply, but i'm afraid i'm kinda writing it blindly or winging it, which is fine too, but just let me know if you're not into it. )

     

    Lars notices, of course he does, but the exact moment something in her expression shifts, he tenses. It's this moment, this exact moment that she catches onto them, that Lars, too, can sense them. Like looming mosters in the shadows that you can't quite see, but your mind just kept telling you they were there and that they were real. In most cases, it's only a figment of the mind, of fear and paranoia, but this.. this was all too real. 

    Young vampires weren't often too much trouble, certainly not to Lars before the mind wipe in all his brutal capabilities with nothing like a moral code holding him back, but ones born were tricky because already most were matched in power to him. Lars is a lot like a mutt is compared to a purebred. Just a man forced to turn and therefore the blood wasn't as pure, wasn't as powerful, but fortunate for him, over time, he's been able to evolve, his body adjusting and losing all grip of it's humanity. Still, trouble is afoot and he knows he can't hang around here any longer. Shame, really. 

    Romania was notorious for vampires, sure. It's what people typically thought of when they heard the simply just the name uttered, and Lars knew to some extent of the trouble he's bound to attract here, but he also was determined to get to the bottom of this and if he had to run into the wolves den? Then so be it. He would not turn back again. So it comes, at first, a look of trepidation, before his expression quickly shifts to that telltale look of stubbornness and determination. He's not likely to back down then.

    He looks back at her, " I didn't come here hoping to be welcomed. I came here to get answers."

    " Even if that means beating it out of someone.." He mutters. Lars isn't a violent man, except when he needs to be. It's not his first response, but rather usually his last and the last most might get out of him and anyone ever again, too.

    His eyes snap back to her once more, watching the change, his look widely unreadable. Unaware of his own similar abilities in shapeshifting, he instead watches the dog run along only to stop and look back at him. Taking a moment to look at the car and back where he knew for which way they were coming, Lars hadn't much any other choice but to avoid the sudden confrontation bound to happen. There were other ways to go about this. So, he turned and bound over after the dog to follow. 

  • (Sorry for the late reply! I was dealing with no internet.)

    Gray grunted softly, as she pushed herself forward. She stopped only a few feet away before looking down at a small puddle of water at her feet, with a small frown she sat on her heels- arms crossing on top of her knees as she stared at her reflection. It was maddening really, to remember things she shouldn't. Like her brain knew it but perhaps wasn't meant to keep it stored like it had.

    She could remember...wolves- no. A wolf? A village- her village. A violent fire. A man...she missed but only knew the eyes and name to. He had the same eyes as- Gray remained blissfully unaware of Iaophae in the shadows. She seemed lost in her head. Confused certainly, but like she was thinking far too much. She probably was.

    "Aodh, airím uaim thú," she muttered, unknowingly in fluent Irish. Squinting into the water she said the one phrase stuck in her head, "Ná géill choíche...what does that mean and why do I-"

    As soon as Iaophae spoke, Gray startled and nearly fell forward. Luckily she caught herself, looking into the water she saw her eyes glint but upon releasing a calming breath she pushed herself to her feet and turned to look at this stranger. Her eyebrows dipped at the appearance, but there was a hint of curiosity as well as relief. Still. Part of her felt unnerved.

    "I- I'm sorry if I'm trespassing," Gray was genuine, "I guess I was just looking for answers to something. Uh- I'm sorry. I'm losing my manners... I'm Gray." Gray would take a step forward and held her hand out but didn't expect the other woman to take it.

  • Meow meow moeow. Mew. 

    //Meoooooooww!    Greetings two legger. What brings you to my litter box?//

  • Neseva could feel the collapse of someone before she even got to the doors of the Goth store. She felt a lively mind, then nothing. Gone, out. She kicked in that door and trotted in to see... well... THere wasn't really anyone inside yet she could detect minds working around inside of there. She looked left to right curiously. Trying to pick up on minds again.

    "Hellooooo~" Nes sung in a sing-song like voice. She cocked her head to listen. Nope. Nada. What the fuck. She walked deeper into the cinnamon smelling place, like there were vampires here or something. "Delivery!" She called again. Glancing towards the counter. She felt a pinprick of something. She glanced over the counter and-- "Ah shit."

    She rushed around the counter towards the knocked out associate. Placing her fingers on the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. "Dude, you're not. No no." She kept her fingers there until she did feel that damn pulse and a sigh of relief fell from her throat like a heatwave. "Oh thank God, okay. Just a spell. Sweet. I can deal with spells. Oh shit hell, okay." She placed her hands on the sides of his head, eyes closed to concentrate. She was looking for what caused it, looking through his memory. She heard a bell, then the quick sighting of a girl and suddenly the poor guy was out. 

    "Witch got it." So she was right. Nes closed his eyes for the sake of them not drying out on him. She then rose up off of her knees and looked around once more to check that no one was in. Nope. "Alright, guy. I'm going to track down the witch chick and we'll get you all handled, got it? Great!"

    Nes quickly walked around the counter towards the front door again, this time though to change that sign in the window to Closed, just before a dark figure was in front of it and attempting to open the door, making Nes jump out of her skin. "Jesus fuck." The person, a big man that didn't look like he was in the right place opened the door, he was muscular, grabbed in dark clothing and looked like he belonged to a SWAT team. He looked up suspiciously when the bell didn't ring. He then looked down at Nes' small ass who smiled painfully. "Hey dude, we're closed."

    The man instantly grew suspicious. "Closed? Right, and who are you to say that?" His mind was full of discontent. He wasn't buying a single word of what she was saying. In fact, his eyes wandered around the shop in search of the real person and his mind buzzed with thoughts of taking her down.

    Neseva's smile was quickly wavering, she straightened her back though. "I'm the owner's daughter. The clerk suffered a sudden dizzy spell while I was here for inventory check, so for the next little while it's closed. I'm sorry. I'm going to have to ask that you leave."

    The man stood as though he were defiant against this. He didn't believe her, she could sense that. He looked around again as though something suddenly was going to pop out. He tightened his mouth than grumbled. "Have the clerk call me when he wakes up then."

    "Sure. Your name?" Nes asked, cocking up a dark brow.

    "That's none of your business, bitch."

    Nes scowled, instantly flipping the finger at him. "Fine, fuck you too, man. Just get out." When he made his way out she purposely grabbed the door just to slam it after him then proceeded to lock it. "Dickwaffle." She huffed and turned away from the door and past the fallen clerk to go towards where minds were buzzing. Something about a deal, drugs. Gross. 

    She crept towards the back entrance of the door, pressing her ear against it to hear the voices going. 

    "....I've only got fifty." The second boy said. Nes could hear panicked thoughts of the dude stealing money from his mother from time to time in order to get the money for it.

    A girl scoffed, her voice like a drone. "I'm not sharing any with you this time. She herself had $200 she was offering up. "This stuff better be strong."

    Nes waited for some time more before she opened the door and popped her head out likely to startle the four people there. The girl from the clerks' vision as well as the three teens who looked thunderstruck with fear. Their pale faces even paler than before. "Yo, hey. I hope I'm not late. Did you guys see the clerk in there? He's knocked out!"

    The girls' wide eyes fell to a glare. "And who the fuck are you?"

    Nes preened. "Ohhh~ Just a chick out for a spell. No worries."

  • Finn kneels, stretching his hand down into the grass and pushing his fingers down into the soil, squeezing it in his palm.  It's cool and wet and full of minerals and life.  As his conscious mind and the Earth become one, his eyes drift shut of their own accord, and he very nearly slips right into a trance it's such a welcomed, warm thing.  He wouldn't be able to describe it if someone asked him what it was like- he might compare it to being held by one's own mum, but it was superior even to that.  He was connected to every blade of grass, every tree, every living creature bound to the Earth.  If he had a mind, he could survey all of Ireland from this very spot.

    Instead of pushing further away, though, he blesses the top layer of the soil at about a six foot radius on either side of him, effectively turning it into sacred ground.  One day, a grove will flourish, and on that day the blessing will spread, plunging Ireland into a season of hypergrowth. 

    "That should do nicely," he says, both to himself and Donncha as he flops back onto his arse, crossing his legs underneath him.  Then, he activates his second sight to see Brighid's knot spread through the grass, the tips of the three points spread perfectly within the six foot radius, not an edge straying outside.  It has the same glow as the normally invisible knotwork that runs up both his legs, up the middle of his back, and down his arms to wrap around his fingers.  Neon indigo, with a faint white shifting light peering out from within.

    In unison Brighid's knot and his knotwork fade from his sight as he deactivates his second sight, in order to look at Donncha's prone form without being too distracted.  Magic users tend to be flashy.  And besides, he's pretty sure he'll have all the time in the world to pry into this stranger without using a not-so-sneaky-not-so-tricky-trick.  

    "No need to thank me for nothin'," Finn shrugs his pale, bare shoulders, stretching out his right hand to lay his palm against the man's chest, between his pectorals.  His hand's a little dirty from the soil and a little cool, but he hopes the lad doesn't hold it against him. "My names Finn, good to meet ye." He jerks his head in the direction that he'd thrown down the Fragarach, dark brows pinched together thoughftully.

    "It's.. me sword.  Ye can see it?" He hasn't started healing the man yet, a little distracted by the notion that someone can see through his wards.  Or maybe he could just sense the wards themselves, and Finn's paranoia was only partially legitimate.  Regardless, the ground beneath them churns and flows with natural magic, just waiting to be unleashed at his beckon.

  • Kujo had so much to do today and so much little time to do everything, he at least wanted to have enough time to get back home and take Cthylla out to shop for her some clothes at least like he had told her, plus he sense that tonight was going to be a full moon which could only mean that he was gonna undergo a forced transformation tonight. He always hated those forced transformations, they always painfum to him at times but he grew use to the pain and just hated the transformation altogether, reaching into his pocket he finished out his car and unlocked the door as he got in and shut the door behind him. Placing the key in the ignition and started up the engine, he put on his seat belt and drove off in the direction of the warehouse where most of time would be spent for the day before he had to come back into town and made a few rounds around a couple of blocks. He was so caught up with the whole Cthylla incident that he had almost forgot about tonight, not that it was a bad thing or anything like that but he couldn't be anywhere near his home tonight for that manner.

     

    Being a curse shapeshifter had its cons yes but at the same time he didn't really complain about this lifestyle that he was now living, wasn't what he would dream of doing while he was young but it was better then laying in his grave right now like he suppose to be doing. Ever since that night with those men, he main mission was to hunt down all 8 men and kill them but so far he's only killed one of them, the others are either still in hiding or bouncing around constantly trying to keep their movements a secret from prying ears and eyes which they all should be careful; hell he didn't even bother to look for his parents after he had a second chance at life, though he heard that his parents had a child and he now has a little sister that knows nothing of her big brother Kujo it seems which was fine, he didn't want any sort of connection to his family nor his sister if it would mean putting their lives in danger. Yellow piercing eyes stared at the road before he turned off onto a long and abandon dirt road, he drove along the road slowly as he approached the abandon warehouse. Parking his car, he killed the engine and stepped out, shutting the door and placing his keys in his pocket making his way over to the warehouse, pushing the door open and closing it behind him.

     

    On the outside, it looked like a normal old, rundown abandon warehouse but on the inside was a whole different story. He had men working around the clock inside the place, he always had a few women here and there making the drugs for him as well as have a few guards on standby to make sure that no one tried to rob him while he was away. Kujo was a infamous drug lord, owning his own strip club that he recently opened up only about 2 months ago, Kujo had it going for him at such a young age. His task for the day was to do some pick ups from another drug lord that was working with him, more like an exchange for more weapons and in return, they get more drugs to sell to their customers which Kujo had agreed to and didn't go back on his word but that wasn't until later on in the day today. For now, he just wanted to see if everything was good in the warehouse before he went cruising the streets to make sure that his people were selling the drugs like they were told to do so.

     

    "Oh, Al, I need you to go by my apartment as well. I have a guest there, make sure that she's okay and no one knows that she's there alright?"

     

    The guy name Al, his trusted man just nodded his head and left just like that. When Kujo asked for something to be done, he wanted done now so he didn't question his boss, it was common for Kujo to have women overstay at his place but this was different, the way he spoke about this woman...he could hear a bit of concern in Kujo's voice when he told him to go by the apartment. If anything, everyone knew that Kujo was a 'smash and dash' kind of guy, he wasn't the one to keep a steady relationship with women but whoever this woman was....maybe she had changed his mind about settling down with a woman to keep him under control who knows..?

  • (Sweetness! If you need me to rewrite anything, let me know.)

    She could feel it, the rush of adrenaline. The blade in her hand. The blood dripping down her face. The armor that set familiarly and comfortably on her body. There was no glee in it, but it was...something. Engrained in her, really. Like she was born blank and someone had taken the time to etch warrior into her bones, yet healer into her head.

    It was nothing more than an episode, she came to the conclusion, as she blinked and the cold snowy forests of Ireland disappeared. She was, as she were before...remembering? Dreaming? Sitting in an empty space, by herself for the moment being, and rubbed her palms against her jeans with a disappointed sigh.

    Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she paused for a moment. She thought about answering it but, it was probably the friend of a friend asking her how it was going. Looking into the dark night, she wasn’t sure, but she was tired of remembering things that weren’t hers and not completely understanding it. She knew half the time she’d speak in Gaelic, but she didn’t even know Gaelic. She knew Italian, Spanish, enough Korean to get by but that was it.

    Crossing her arms in front of her, she let out a calming breath and closed her eyes. She wasn’t even sure if this was a good idea, still largely uncertain of what a Soothsayer was. Just that a friends sister had suggested it, or rather someone, and convinced her to take it. Her father seemed open to whatever helped, and offered to pay for her if her monthly allowance wasn’t enough.

    “I’m stupid,” she muttered to herself, “I can’t even tell dream from reality. Jesus Grayson.”

  • Finn thinks about sticking Fragarach into the ground, but then decides against it and turns back halfway to undue the binding he'd layed down on the swords scabbard.  Then, he raises his hand and binds the left side of it to his palm.  The effect?  The scabbard shoots away from the edge of the water, spinning into his waiting grip.  He then resheaths his sword, holding it just under the guard.  Still invisible, mind you.

    It's been a long, long time since he's been in a situation like this; bare arsed with another man who can't bare to turn around, for fear of his own shame.  In the past, his response was far different.  In the present? The now? He finds it funny as hell how how red the lad's cheeks are.

    "Hell, mate.  What's wrong with ye? Amn't gonna' take no bites outta' ye or nothin'." Finn holds his hands up- one palm up, the other curled around the nigh invisible scabbard of his nigh invisible sword.  Then he drops them and turns away, wandering back to where he'd left his own clothes.  He'll have to shower at home instead of dipping into the water, but that's hardly a big deal.  

    Tossing down Fragarach, he picks his jeans up from the ground and shakes the dew off them, then he tugs them on, zipping them up carefully and refastening the button.  Who knew his twig n' berries would cause such a stir.

    Rather than shrug off the males offer to repay him, he quietly accepts it.  One never knows when one might require aid, and as of late he's starting to notice a fad of things going wrong around him, people that were never meant to know he exists accidentally stumbling into the very same coffee shop he just so happens to be sitting in type of kine shat.  He doesn't believe in coincidence, and for good damn reason.  Besides, the dude's got a magic sword, too.  He's curious to see what magic it holds.

    "How in the name of the Dagda did ye end up there, though?" As he asks the question, he swipes his foot through the grass in a wide arc. "Oh, n' come here, dude.  Lay down on yer back, eyes to the sky n' all that shite.  I'm gonna heal ye."

  • "Morrigan's red eyes!" Finn yelps with surprise, backpedaling quickly from the edge of the water when he spots something rising quickly to the surface.  Half expecting a fight, he grips the hilt of his sword and frees it quickly with a rasp from the blade, flourishing it by his side.  It's still under a camouflage spell, hidden from sight.  But the light curls and folds around it like heat-waves.  And now that it's been unsheathed, just a bit of it's divine power seeps out.  Shite. That's no good.

    His bare shoulders sag with relief when he realizes it's no monster at all, but just some bare arsed lad. "Oh," he muses dumbly, and then laughs at his own paranoia.  And then at the other man's sheepishness.  It's something he'll never understand- he remembers running into battle with the Fianna, naked as the day he'd come into the world with nothing but a necklace of bones around his neck.  And when you fight in war naked, stripping down any old where isn't such a big deal.

    Still holding his invisible sword, loose by his side, now with no intention of using it at all, he watches the other man stumble away like a newborn fawn, towards a- he barely stops his eyes from widening and shouting a praise to the gods when he sees the gold and ebony sword lying there.  It's too flashy for his tastes- but even without activating his second sight, he can feel the Druidic magic calling to him.

    Finn's as pale as fresh snow, but that shouldn't be a surprise since he's Irish.  Everyone was pale here.  Ireland and the sun didn't see eye to eye often; his hair is as black as raven wings and his eyes as blue as the sea.  Apparently he's tall, but he's only 6'3".  He used to be considered of painfully average height, once upon a time.  But those days are passed, and that Clan gone.

    Instead of asking about the sword like he wants too, he follows Donncha barefoot through the grass. "Hey, bruv." Finn calls, stopping five feet away. "What's happened to ye? Yer wastin' precious blood, n', well, shite.  I'd be lyin' if I said I couldn't help ye out." 

  • Cosima stopped just out of sight in the line of trees. She stayed where she was for a very long while, and considered bolting. And then she decided to do something that was probably a little bit stupid. She pulled off the beanie that hid her hair and her ears. Icy blonde hair tumbled from it, and fell about her shoulders and down her back. It was beautiful and had such a wonderful sheen from it, and it smelled like rosewater and bergamot. From that alone, one probably would not be able to tell that she hadn’t had a shower in days. Too bad the rest of her gave it away.

    From beneath the long hair that fell about her were the tips of her long, pointed ears.

    She gave a little calm sigh and slipped out of the trees, shoving the beanie into her pocket. “You need help.” Cosima stated, lightly. It wasn’t a question. Her voice was soft and careful, her stormy gray eyes searching the woman. She remained mostly in the shadows, mostly hidden from view. “Let me help you.” She added, gently, her eyes a little narrowed. “I saved you. Do you really think I’d hurt you?”

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