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Smelling the Roses

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  1. #11
    Rlyeh's Avatar
    Presance
    (There)
    Dex ●●●●●●
    (Nimble)
    Allies
    (Street)
    R'lyeh

    New ID: Riley Rivers | Danger Sense | Direction Sense | Trained Memory | Trained Observer | Allies (Street) |
    Mask

    A slim Caucasian women, with frayed, frizzy bleached hair, chapped lips and irritated, red skin surrounding her eyes.

    Underneath her clothes are a myriad of scars, most notably on her back shaping like wings, and her stomach, Great wide slashes that never healed correctly.
    Mien

    Oil black, miasma purple, and dishwater white, the pallet of the fox girl drowning in crude oil, her hair continues to spill only halted by her triangular fox ears, popping from the side of her head.

    Miasma fur lay neatly with dirty glass & black ice feathers, with a trio of smog-smoke tails, easily seen now, is a slash across her throat, yowling open. Acts more like tattoo now, withrows of yellow fangs, and a wet looking tongue lolling out.
    Mantle 1

    The feeling of sunbaked heat of a Summer roadtrip, paired with the wafting smell of gasoline from a roadstop.

    2
    PRE

    Blightbent Riddleseeker

    She nods, first to herself, then again to Gerrit's words. Hair a continuous drip-drip-drop, without thinking she rakes a few fingers through the liquid oil-slick strands, and shoves a chunk behind a triangular ear, then wipes the excess oil-ick on her pants.

    "It's a stupid plot device and I don't like it." she says with more emphasis then she meant. But it's true. Lonely library days, rain-sleet-snow, and reading and learning and knowing and. It wasn't good. It was frustrating and she didn't like not finishing a book she'd started but. She wanted to. She didn't. Maybe-probably chipped a tooth from how hard gritted her teeth to bare it.

    She nods again, the oil river hair she shoved behind her ear falls forward all drip-drip-drop, "Lance the wound so we're not a plot device. Yes. Good." she turns to face him. "Thank you. For perspective-and-talking. yes." something that would have been a nod had it not have been such a short movement.

    Then after a moment, "Are you okay-good?" with everything? Leaving and coming back, are there health concerns, what had the Rust done to him?


    Sorry for taking so much time to reply, and sorry for not getting as much out of the scene, but we got 1 day left probably should start wrapping
    Wyrd ●●● | Heath: | Willpower: | Glamour: | Mantle and Noteable Merits in Minisheet

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  3. #12
    Gerrit's Avatar
    New Identity
    (Gerrit Jameson)
    Gerrit

    Mien:
    Leathery scars, bruises and scaly scabs cover the whole hairless body. There is a certain symmetry to the disfigurements, the color of the visible skin ranging from pale pink to purple and dark red. Lately patches of dark blue and black - frostbite - have appeared on his skin and some of the scabs have frozen over and crystalized.
    His right hand shows a copper-coloured, wilted and flaky scar, engulfing most of his palm and the inside of his wrist. Next to frostbite and bruised scars it adds a third layer of wounds bore by the Ogre.

    Mantle:
    Contrast seem to grow slightly more stark around Gerrit, the crisp clearness of a winter morning. Sometimes the sound of ice forming or breaking can be heard in a short, brisk snap. When using Contracts a subtle, biting cold can be felt around Gerrit - pins and needles prick both the Onyx and those close to him.

    Crown:
    Solid, thick panes of clear ice symmetrically arranged around his head with fern frost at the base.
    Active Pledges

    Motley Pledge

    Only a result of 10 on a die is considered a success. Should a given die result in no successes, the failure is considered to be a dramatic failure, though the oathbreaker may spend a point of willpower to negate this, making it a regular failure.
    -Until Oct 5th.

    1
    PRE

    Stonebones Snowskin

    He thought about the question. It felt like a lot of things were left unsaid. Were there still things he wanted to talk about? Frankly, he wasn't even sure of that.
    "I am. I guess." He sighed with a gravelly wet sound and stopped walking. "Listen: I am glad that we talked about this. I.. uh, think I would like meeting again some time. Somewhere more private." Could she tell that he was stalling himself, keeping himself from thinking about this situation?

    The Ogre's face remained open and neutral. "I think I might have to call it for today. Thank you." The immediate problem has been dealt with. And maybe it was just the awkward situation that didn't sit quite right with him. Gerrit said good bye and made his way home.

    I'll also apologize at that point.. thanks for being patient!


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