PoetsAndWriters
Serf
- Local time
- Today 9:39 PM
- Messages
- 21
- Age
- 36
Now. I was doing a role-play that I was actually enjoying but sadly, the person I was roleplaying with had to suddenly drop. Death's muse, it was a popular Idea I had and a lot have messaged me about it. So, I do have a few rules!
1. Must be human! Don't think it would work with any other being. May HAVE! Trigger warning, hence, suicide. It's a touchy subject for most and I don't want to well, trigger you. The human must have had a reason to want to harm himself. 21+ and please no overly feminine boys. Sorry, just not my cup of tea.
2. I am rusty! I may not write like I use to but! I can do 2 to 3 paragraphs please do the same. Also, if English isn't your first language then that's fine. As long as I can read it.
3. Ghosting! I do it too. I may not reply for more than 2 weeks at a time. I do have a very demanding job, especially in this fine year. So, I understand if you don't reply for more than a few weeks. We all have lives!
4. Add to the plot! please! As I said, I am rusty so I do need help to push the plot along. So, add on characters welcomed! heck, go nuts! I will be adding some of my own as well.
5. If you don't like where the plot is going, tell me. We can change it! together!
6. Character sheets! I am fine with them if you have one, send it. If you don't, that's fine. Either way, we can always describe how we look. It's a story! after all.
Here is the intro! If you're interested. PLEASe message me! in PM! and I will post a thread up and we can get started. If you have anything to add don't be shy to do so!
Death's muse!
Passive, if there was one emotion he was capable of was passiveness. Perhaps, a bit of harsh humor Lord knows he needed it in this job. The clock ticked like a loud ringing in his ears how he heated the concept of time because time was all he had and he loathed the man who created it. It was almost mocking his never-ending existence, his never-ending job, years, and years of, nothing. Sounds whiny? Imagine working 9 to 5 in the same job, forever. A job you never choose to do yourself, where did he come from? Death himself didn't know. It felt like he was always here.
So here he was sitting upon a hideous upholstered chair his face twisted in mild disgust, he'd most certainly have to shower after this. Death's bright green eyes narrowed in waiting, that's all this job was, waiting. Groans emitted lightly through the white noise the T.V was making. The groans of a man who had stuck his last needle into his vein, hoping to wipe away the pain of his past. Humans, always finding the most interesting ways to destroy themselves. Unknowingly the man didn't see death's presence though Death doubt he'd be aware of anything right now. Death watched as the man started to gasp and shake hearing his heart start to rapidly beat inside his chest, "It's time" Death sighed. Removing himself from his chair. Another lost soul bound for hell Death reached for him touching his cold forehead, always the same, same questions, "Why did I end up this way? Where I'm I going to? Is there a God?" You finally start answering the questions in the most creative ways.
The Shepard. That's what he was called by people who weren't afraid to die, the ones who didn't ask why and if there was a God. Sadly, it was mostly children. Death never understood the human condition never felt joy, love, mercy, anger, to an extent. Those emotions were as foreign to his him as well, time. Though he started to question it, watched, listened to their complex emotions, a mothers grief, a lovers embrace, jealousy, rage. Then, one man who he swore he wished he never listened too otherwise, he wouldn't start to listen to his own curiosities. A Priest no less, the man was dying of cancer yet, he wasn't afraid. "Ah, The Shepard. Come to take your sheep to his destination" He said, Perhaps, it was that man that he was now, curious.
When someone is dying it was a pull, a pull he couldn't ignore. A calling like a trumpet in a quiet night with a sigh Death dispersed from the rundown apartment into another. This one seemed a bit cleaner at least but he could feel the heavy air of depression a soul being forcefully ripped out, Suicide. Calling Death early was never a good idea, some sacred law being broken it was an automatic ticket to the place down under. An imbalance. Death hated anything being unbalanced, it was in his nature, after all. Gripping his raven headed cane he gracefully walked into the man's room as if he owned the place, looking at the man's predicament, "My what a fine mess you got yourself into" Death spoke, casually. The man before him was struggling but Death wanted to wait, cruel as it sounded, he wasn't about to let this man rush him, "You know, should have just tossed yourself out of the window or let yourself get hit by a bus. Would have been much faster and a lot less painful" Death sighed, "You do know where you're going after this? Don't you?"
1. Must be human! Don't think it would work with any other being. May HAVE! Trigger warning, hence, suicide. It's a touchy subject for most and I don't want to well, trigger you. The human must have had a reason to want to harm himself. 21+ and please no overly feminine boys. Sorry, just not my cup of tea.
2. I am rusty! I may not write like I use to but! I can do 2 to 3 paragraphs please do the same. Also, if English isn't your first language then that's fine. As long as I can read it.
3. Ghosting! I do it too. I may not reply for more than 2 weeks at a time. I do have a very demanding job, especially in this fine year. So, I understand if you don't reply for more than a few weeks. We all have lives!
4. Add to the plot! please! As I said, I am rusty so I do need help to push the plot along. So, add on characters welcomed! heck, go nuts! I will be adding some of my own as well.
5. If you don't like where the plot is going, tell me. We can change it! together!
6. Character sheets! I am fine with them if you have one, send it. If you don't, that's fine. Either way, we can always describe how we look. It's a story! after all.
Here is the intro! If you're interested. PLEASe message me! in PM! and I will post a thread up and we can get started. If you have anything to add don't be shy to do so!
Death's muse!
Passive, if there was one emotion he was capable of was passiveness. Perhaps, a bit of harsh humor Lord knows he needed it in this job. The clock ticked like a loud ringing in his ears how he heated the concept of time because time was all he had and he loathed the man who created it. It was almost mocking his never-ending existence, his never-ending job, years, and years of, nothing. Sounds whiny? Imagine working 9 to 5 in the same job, forever. A job you never choose to do yourself, where did he come from? Death himself didn't know. It felt like he was always here.
So here he was sitting upon a hideous upholstered chair his face twisted in mild disgust, he'd most certainly have to shower after this. Death's bright green eyes narrowed in waiting, that's all this job was, waiting. Groans emitted lightly through the white noise the T.V was making. The groans of a man who had stuck his last needle into his vein, hoping to wipe away the pain of his past. Humans, always finding the most interesting ways to destroy themselves. Unknowingly the man didn't see death's presence though Death doubt he'd be aware of anything right now. Death watched as the man started to gasp and shake hearing his heart start to rapidly beat inside his chest, "It's time" Death sighed. Removing himself from his chair. Another lost soul bound for hell Death reached for him touching his cold forehead, always the same, same questions, "Why did I end up this way? Where I'm I going to? Is there a God?" You finally start answering the questions in the most creative ways.
The Shepard. That's what he was called by people who weren't afraid to die, the ones who didn't ask why and if there was a God. Sadly, it was mostly children. Death never understood the human condition never felt joy, love, mercy, anger, to an extent. Those emotions were as foreign to his him as well, time. Though he started to question it, watched, listened to their complex emotions, a mothers grief, a lovers embrace, jealousy, rage. Then, one man who he swore he wished he never listened too otherwise, he wouldn't start to listen to his own curiosities. A Priest no less, the man was dying of cancer yet, he wasn't afraid. "Ah, The Shepard. Come to take your sheep to his destination" He said, Perhaps, it was that man that he was now, curious.
When someone is dying it was a pull, a pull he couldn't ignore. A calling like a trumpet in a quiet night with a sigh Death dispersed from the rundown apartment into another. This one seemed a bit cleaner at least but he could feel the heavy air of depression a soul being forcefully ripped out, Suicide. Calling Death early was never a good idea, some sacred law being broken it was an automatic ticket to the place down under. An imbalance. Death hated anything being unbalanced, it was in his nature, after all. Gripping his raven headed cane he gracefully walked into the man's room as if he owned the place, looking at the man's predicament, "My what a fine mess you got yourself into" Death spoke, casually. The man before him was struggling but Death wanted to wait, cruel as it sounded, he wasn't about to let this man rush him, "You know, should have just tossed yourself out of the window or let yourself get hit by a bus. Would have been much faster and a lot less painful" Death sighed, "You do know where you're going after this? Don't you?"