veilfires
Lord of the cats.
Hello, and thank you for taking the time to peek at this. My name is Hannah, I am twenty-six and hailing from the United Kingdom.
It has been a good while since I have tried forum RP, but I was very willingly dragged back into it by friends.
I will preface this post with a small reminder that I am a patient roleplay partner and I am willing to wait however long it takes for a thread to be replied to. I understand that the writing juice can be a finicky son of a gun.
I do, however, enjoy talking and plotting with my RP partners. I will be that weirdo making Pinterest boards for muses, plots and universes. I will also share music, inspos and the like.
While I am comfortable writing smut, I will not engage in threads where it is nothing but. Occasionally, it's needed to progress a story - I get it, I do, but pointless PWP isn't my thing.
I prefer to write female muses.
I can write anything from one paragraph to several depending on writing juice. I will often try to match my partner as best I can, though I may occasionally fall a little short if all that needs to be said has been said. :>
In regards to pairings: I lean more towards FxF and FxM in terms of ships.
Now that the bare-bones is out of the way, I am interested mostly in fantasy/medieval settings. I love the Elder Scrolls with all my heart and I would love nothing more than a good old fashioned dungeon crawl.
The exception to this would be anything set in the Red Dead Redemption universe. I love me some yeehaws.
I am familiar with the following fandoms:
Those marked with * are wanted, those with ** are desperately wanted.
The Elder Scrolls
Assassin's Creed (specifically Black Flag, good grief I love me some pirates & I am in the process of completing Valhalla - oof gimmie vikings pls).
Red Dead Redemption.
Vampyr.
Dragon Age (origins, II & inquisition)
The Last of Us (I haven't played 2 yet :()
Altered Carbon.**
Carnival Row.
Fallout 3.*
* PLEASE NOTE THAT THESE WILL UPDATE MORE AS I GO ALONG.
Below is a writing sample. For context, the perspective is from a young girl of eighteen who has fled her home in order to escape an arranged marriage. She joins the navy under the moniker of Andrew and comes face to face with a pirate that doesn't try to rip her face off when she peeks in through the bars.
It has been a good while since I have tried forum RP, but I was very willingly dragged back into it by friends.
I will preface this post with a small reminder that I am a patient roleplay partner and I am willing to wait however long it takes for a thread to be replied to. I understand that the writing juice can be a finicky son of a gun.
I do, however, enjoy talking and plotting with my RP partners. I will be that weirdo making Pinterest boards for muses, plots and universes. I will also share music, inspos and the like.
While I am comfortable writing smut, I will not engage in threads where it is nothing but. Occasionally, it's needed to progress a story - I get it, I do, but pointless PWP isn't my thing.
I prefer to write female muses.
I can write anything from one paragraph to several depending on writing juice. I will often try to match my partner as best I can, though I may occasionally fall a little short if all that needs to be said has been said. :>
In regards to pairings: I lean more towards FxF and FxM in terms of ships.
Now that the bare-bones is out of the way, I am interested mostly in fantasy/medieval settings. I love the Elder Scrolls with all my heart and I would love nothing more than a good old fashioned dungeon crawl.
The exception to this would be anything set in the Red Dead Redemption universe. I love me some yeehaws.
I am familiar with the following fandoms:
Those marked with * are wanted, those with ** are desperately wanted.
The Elder Scrolls
Assassin's Creed (specifically Black Flag, good grief I love me some pirates & I am in the process of completing Valhalla - oof gimmie vikings pls).
Red Dead Redemption.
Vampyr.
Dragon Age (origins, II & inquisition)
The Last of Us (I haven't played 2 yet :()
Altered Carbon.**
Carnival Row.
Fallout 3.*
* PLEASE NOTE THAT THESE WILL UPDATE MORE AS I GO ALONG.
Below is a writing sample. For context, the perspective is from a young girl of eighteen who has fled her home in order to escape an arranged marriage. She joins the navy under the moniker of Andrew and comes face to face with a pirate that doesn't try to rip her face off when she peeks in through the bars.
The first time Anne took a life, she remembers being angry. She doesn't remember exactly what had gotten her that way, maybe it was the roar of the men around her, the sing of steel or the rattle of gunfire. She remembers the man she'd been left to fight being three times her size, and had fists the size of buckets. He must've thought that she was small enough that he could have killed her easily, from the way he'd grinned as he had stalked closer. How he'd turned his neck one way, then the other. Anne could almost hear the cracking of his bones in her mind's eye. There came the clash of steel, and everything was foggy after that. She'd taken his eyes, apparently; he'd gripped and grabbed at the front of her coat hard enough that the buttons ripped and tore. There had been enough pulled away from her that her secret had almost come tumbling out, were it not for the timely intervention of Mark hoisting her from the screaming man, she might've been found out and sent right back to Kinsale to a seething father and the order of marriage.
To those who were faithful to the word of God, Anne killing for the sake of her own freedom would be an atrocity. Her mother, she knows, would be turning in her grave at the thought of her daughter taking to the sea, though she had not been privy to the hedonism that would come along with it. She did not gamble, she did not sleep with men or women, and she drank only when the option of clean water wasn't available. Sometimes she had to make do. They all did. It didn't take long for Anne to disappear completely, in lieu of Andrew. She was a young lad to them, eighteen years old and no longer green to atrocities of battle, and she loved it.
Even when they paused in ports to restock and to rest, the men treated her like one of their own. Pushed eager ladies towards her and told her to let her hair down. She took those girls into bedrooms, explained to them that they were lovely but had no interest in keeping their company for anything other than talking. Some had huffed and puffed, others had been glad of the break. Some had laid beside her, tucked her hair behind her ear and held her a little. That had been nice, and if more were amenable, she remembers thinking that she ought to do that of her own accord.
Somewhere between the hard work and the gentle rest, came the fighting. It was only natural - so long as there were pirates, there would always be redcoats to cut them down. Some men among them sympathised, understood why they would; money was hard to come by through honest means and hard labour. Anne can't remember how many she's killed. She stopped counting around the twenty-fourth and had no intention of picking up where she left off. Last night's raid had been a bloody and hard-fought battle, and once they had won the day and the survivors were chained in their cells in the hold, their attention had been turned to scrubbing the blood and guts from the deck. There was enough of it that, when they brushed the dark and the dirt from the boards, the water had been briefly stained red. She'd paused, and watched it bleed into nothingness.
They did not have time for rest, but instead gleefully made sail for the nearest friendly port to bring the pirates in for trial, and though every part of her ached and her eyes burned, she had been commanded to keep an eye on the prisoners. It was better than being forced into the crow's nest to watch for more who flew under the black flag. For the most part, the cells were quiet. Some of them slept, others prayed like that would save them from their fate, and others coughed and hummed and wondered aloud what fate awaited them at the end of their journey. It's the first time they've trusted her enough to allow her to watch over their prisoners, and she is determined enough to do a good job. Anne isn't like the rest of the men above deck, who would poke and prod at the pirates to try and rile them up so they would have an excuse to fight them. It was dehumanising. Despite what she'd been told, when she peers between the bars, all she can see is people who were fighting for their liberty in the same way she was. The difference was coat colour, and that was it.
There is one who takes her interest. She looks close enough and finds that they are like her, she thinks. Hiding beneath a man's hairstyle and clothes in order to travel safely and see the world. Against her better judgement, Anne moves closer. Close enough that if the other were to reach between the bars it wouldn't be difficult to grab her. It would be pointless, really. She doesn't have the keys. "Why'd you do it?" Anne says, finally. "Turn pirate, I mean?"
To those who were faithful to the word of God, Anne killing for the sake of her own freedom would be an atrocity. Her mother, she knows, would be turning in her grave at the thought of her daughter taking to the sea, though she had not been privy to the hedonism that would come along with it. She did not gamble, she did not sleep with men or women, and she drank only when the option of clean water wasn't available. Sometimes she had to make do. They all did. It didn't take long for Anne to disappear completely, in lieu of Andrew. She was a young lad to them, eighteen years old and no longer green to atrocities of battle, and she loved it.
Even when they paused in ports to restock and to rest, the men treated her like one of their own. Pushed eager ladies towards her and told her to let her hair down. She took those girls into bedrooms, explained to them that they were lovely but had no interest in keeping their company for anything other than talking. Some had huffed and puffed, others had been glad of the break. Some had laid beside her, tucked her hair behind her ear and held her a little. That had been nice, and if more were amenable, she remembers thinking that she ought to do that of her own accord.
Somewhere between the hard work and the gentle rest, came the fighting. It was only natural - so long as there were pirates, there would always be redcoats to cut them down. Some men among them sympathised, understood why they would; money was hard to come by through honest means and hard labour. Anne can't remember how many she's killed. She stopped counting around the twenty-fourth and had no intention of picking up where she left off. Last night's raid had been a bloody and hard-fought battle, and once they had won the day and the survivors were chained in their cells in the hold, their attention had been turned to scrubbing the blood and guts from the deck. There was enough of it that, when they brushed the dark and the dirt from the boards, the water had been briefly stained red. She'd paused, and watched it bleed into nothingness.
They did not have time for rest, but instead gleefully made sail for the nearest friendly port to bring the pirates in for trial, and though every part of her ached and her eyes burned, she had been commanded to keep an eye on the prisoners. It was better than being forced into the crow's nest to watch for more who flew under the black flag. For the most part, the cells were quiet. Some of them slept, others prayed like that would save them from their fate, and others coughed and hummed and wondered aloud what fate awaited them at the end of their journey. It's the first time they've trusted her enough to allow her to watch over their prisoners, and she is determined enough to do a good job. Anne isn't like the rest of the men above deck, who would poke and prod at the pirates to try and rile them up so they would have an excuse to fight them. It was dehumanising. Despite what she'd been told, when she peers between the bars, all she can see is people who were fighting for their liberty in the same way she was. The difference was coat colour, and that was it.
There is one who takes her interest. She looks close enough and finds that they are like her, she thinks. Hiding beneath a man's hairstyle and clothes in order to travel safely and see the world. Against her better judgement, Anne moves closer. Close enough that if the other were to reach between the bars it wouldn't be difficult to grab her. It would be pointless, really. She doesn't have the keys. "Why'd you do it?" Anne says, finally. "Turn pirate, I mean?"
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