Handle/Username You Wished to be Known As: Vespa
RP Experience?: Started in '04. Also was in the yahoo user rooms with the badass guys. YAY! That's like four years of multi para/ poetic role play. I've dumbed down my mysticism.
Writing Level?: I'd say almost advanced? I could be arrogant though.
How could you best serve Angels?: I'm here all the freakin time and watch just about everything. I can maybe do some graphic design things but don't exactly bet on it. And I'm a total tight ass when it comes to role pay and writing ( i.e. grammar, common language. You might not get that one but people always mess up common phrases and don't even know it. It drives me nuts. >.< and creativity. So many repetitive sentence structures. Even I'm victim to it.) Totally willing to help anyone with anything I can. Also don't use obnoxious colors that lazer people's eyes.
RP Example: YOU GET TWO YES YOU DO!
Good ol' Alice nestled gently across her back. Yet again the old gal performed perfectly to a job well done. Vladma too had done excellent as usual and as a reward tonight would be a night of reward. For Vladma that usually meant leaving Dimitri to his chaotic devices and going out on the town for the hardest liquor she could find. There was a few places you could find alcohol laden beverages but the best place to find a beverage you could use as antiseptic during surgery was Angelo's. She strolled down the street with a chipper bounce towards the oasis in the concrete desert. Little would you know, nestled far below in the city itself, is a dead man with a bullet cleanly nestled in his brain. A significant part of her training was to not make a scene.
And there it was, the gleaming bright beacon in the night guiding all alcoholic ruffians into it's bosom like the mother most wished they could forget and others wished they had. The tune bellowing in her head escaped from her as she sung out the last line. It was an old one, something no one here would know. Her father taught it to her as a child and they'd sing it together on the walk home after a successful hunt. Grinning she approached the door as eyes of all kinds watched cautiously. She'd been here before, a good many times in fact, but she almost never made it into the building with a Semi-Automatic Long Range Sniper Rifle strapped to her back. She cheer of her face fell off her face like a ton of bricks letting a firm, highly threatening glare deter those that would dare attempt to part her from her beloved Alice. She made it through the door this time without much else and made her way to the corner seat at the bar, her post murder mecca.
She lifted the strap of her rifle over her head and placed it between her legs as she sat on the stool. Even the bartender gave her a wary look but conceded Vladma's order for a Vodka straight up. The glass was small but the drink had more kick than any beer. Nestling comfortable at her post for the evening she picked up the glass and took a good sip. Her lips puckered a bit as she set the glass down and she let out an airy groan. Oh that burn, how she missed the burn. The two would get to know each other well tonight, the evening was still young.
Also proud of this one:
Alarm clocks are the most annoying thing on the planet. The sound always sends chills down the spine that just end up making you feel somehow violated. Precisely why there hasn't been one in Sara's room since halfway through her first year of high school. It's not the sun that peels a weary eye open. Most days it has yet to rise when she rolls out of bed. Something inside, something deeply disturbed and in fear of that screaming sound, has learned to wake the body at the pre-decided time. Before sleeping all it takes is the thought: 'I need to get up at 5:00 tomorrow' and that something turns the lights on. This morning was no different.
With a rub of the eye the little woman rolled to look at the time, it wasn't late and not particularly early. But she might as well get out of bed and shuffled her way to the bathroom. The room was still dark when she found the frame of the bathroom door. The same hand flailed along the bathroom wall until the light flipped on. Sphincters flexed to block the glaring light and when that wasn't enough she squinted. Sara didn't stay long and went back to her room turning the light on there. It wasn't really messy, but it wasn't the spitting image of what a teenager's room should look like. A sigh waved over the room looking for something to wear. Slinking over to the chair at the other side of the room she put the jogging shorts on that hung from the back. Throwing on a sweater, a pair of shoes and grabbing her iPod she tip-toed quietly out of the house.
Alone time was wonderful. No one and nothing to ruin the day. Sara's was spent jogging early in the morning. That was the best time to do it. There was no one on the road and the sunrise was to die for every morning. The beat pushed on with every step and soon enough home came around again. Stretching on the lawn before she crept the door open again and snuck herself back to her room.
The door clicked shut and locked soon after. Shedding her t-shirt and pants Sara shuffled to the bathroom again. Giving a good look at herself in the mirror before the warm water ran, then the shampoo, the soap everything in the same order as always. Like a computer loading, her mind shifted out of it's zen stupor and went through the day's schedule leaving notes and reminders.
First on the agenda: get out of the shower. It was nice and warm, relaxing on the well worked muscles but the timely woman pealed out of the shower and into her room. Thrusting a hand into the dresser, emerging from the drawer haphazardly and completely at random came underwear; tossed onto her thin body. Some chattering of drawers and a shirt dove over her head. At the foot of the bed a pair of jeans slipped onto her lower half. From there the accessories flew on like magnets. A belt, a hoodie and a watch she checked for the time. 6:10 gave her more then enough time. The final touch was the sacred hat, swiped from the shelf beside the door and plopped onto her head before she left the room.
Today was a good day for her little brother. All that came to him were sweet dreams. That meant he stayed in his bed. He wouldn't be for much longer. Knock. Knock. Knock. “ToTo, time to get up.” Pausing for a moment there was only a rustle of bedding. By now Sara knew what that meant, he wasn't getting out any time soon, and provided a little motivation. “Topher, you I better see you downstairs in 2 minutes or I'm coming back here to tickle you out of bed.”
That usually worked. Words have more power when they're the truth. It was mom's turn. A few steps down the hallway and again; knock, knock, knock. “Mama.” There was a silent pause. “You should get up and make sure ToTo gets to school.” Again it was quiet, but this time a rustle came. It wasn't like her brother's either. There was more then just her mother in there. Earlier in the year momma decided to start dating again. Sara can't count the men mom's been with on her fingers anymore. But almost every man has ended up in bed with her mother only to vanish. Momma started drinking too. She was bad enough during her depression. And was okay for a while there. But now that she's trying to move on it's just the same depression hidden under reckless abandon.
Sara hated the way her mom seemed un-guilty about being such a terrible example to Topher. She hated the men who left the second they found out her mother had children more. Random clubs and concerts full of drunks and addicts is a terrible place to find a respectable man. Sara never knew why her mom didn't yet understand that.
A heavy sigh followed her down the hall again and downstairs. The sun shone right through the blinds on the sliding door beside the kitchen. ToTo had another minute. Even the added four inches of hight barely got Sara tall enough to reach the cabinet that hid the the box of cereal but with a wiggle of the finger on the island counter it went. A bowl, a spoon and some milk didn't take long to follow. Breakfast wasn't the stereotypical egg-shake for the pseudo athlete. A piece of whole wheat toast with a sunny side up egg was healthy enough while still being delicious. Before the egg was even done or the toast popped out of the toaster her little brother came thumping down the stairs. He wriggled his little butt onto the chair and sleepily poured himself a bowl of kid friendly breakfast. It was almost hidden under the crusty sleepy eyes but Sara could see the disappointment on the little boys face. She knew what it meant too. Mom hadn't moved, was flirting again, or the man was getting angry upstairs. Momma wasn't coming to see him off; or her for that matter.
The egg found the toast and together they ventured into Sara's mouth. The two were in near silence. Sara tried, like she tried every morning, to cheer the little man up with small talk. The general, 'how did you sleep', 'what are you doing in school today', filled the awkward silence. She finished and glanced at her watch. She should be leaving soon. The little tyke finished his cereal with a clang and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Sara cleaned off the counter and left the dishes in the sink. There was no time to take care of it now and she knew her mom wouldn't bother. She probably won't even be up by the time Sara got home that evening.
Running up the stairs her bag was the last thing. She could hear the silence as she ran by. With bag in hand she gave it one last try. Knock. Knock. “Mama you up?” Dead silence. She huffed and walked to the top of the stairs. Little ToTo found the tv already. “ToTo, get ready to go, I have to take you to school early again.” From the living room she could hear the groan. Her mother's door was right there. Most days she ignored the childish behavior of her own mother. But sometimes, sometimes she just had to. ToTo thumped back up the stairs and trudged to and from his room for his school bag. A ruffle of the hair was meant to cheer him up but didn't seem to work very well. “Sorry ToTo, mom's still having a tough time.” The ruffling hand pulled the little boys head to her stomach. “It's been like....seven years Sara....” Doing her best to not agree with him she nudged him toward the stairs. “C'mon, we gotta get to school.”
It wasn't too long of a walk to the elementary school. The public elementary school. Mom was being cheap. They got to across the street and stopped. Already he was embarrassed to be seen with his family. They hugged and the little man tottered off to the crosswalk. Sara watched him, felt sorry for him and angry at her mother, as he ran into the school doors.
Now to get herself to school. An adjustment of her messenger style bag later and she was jogging down the sidewalks. An arm held the bag at her side as the other swung in opposition to the pace. The detour put her in the opposite direction of the Academy and time was ticking. She'd probably be late. And the silence wasn't helping but there was no time to fumble with iPods.
Finally the academy came into view. The unimportant figures whizzed by, even the pincushion who walked to school because his drug induced invention was most likely illegal. She didn't know him in the slightest and therefore had no reason to note him in her day but she knew of him. From what she knew he was exactly the kind of guy she despised. The girl almost slammed into the doors as she grabbed them and flew in. First period hadn't started yet, thank god. Sara could calmly walk to her class. At least she could have if it wasn't for the principal and that boy. He had done something again. Doubtful that anyone knew what it was exactly yet. But the metal head was always fucking with the headmaster. The voice barreled her over as she walked by administration.
Preffered Tasks?
Whatever Rook wants!
Moderating roleplay and characters. I can help!
And like I said possibly some design summins maybe.
Whatever responsibilities Rookums gives me I'll tackle full on!
