Roleplaying

Shea sat in the paneless window of a lifeless skyscraper watching the sun hang in the sky that was otherwise empty. There were no birds, clouds, or presence of activity, and there never were. From his perch he could see most of the eastern side of the city and beyond to the forest. Even in the sunlight everything seemed dark and coverd in a thick layer of grime as if over contrasted.

Inside of the room it was barren and bleak. Dust motes floated around lazily in the shafts of sunlight that made their way through the windows and stretched across the uncarpeted floor. There were fallen light fixures hanging from wires and broken office furniture spotting the large space.

Shea pulled a curious looking journal out from his jacket's inner pocket and plucked a pen from behind his ear. He slowly, meticulously, wrote on a blank page in sharp strokes, instrument of writing held in the grip of long, boney fingers.

Everything was quiet, and everything was still.

Bag slung over her back, the young woman brushed forward through a large bush, finally at the edge of the forest. Across her chest was a bow, the quiver nestled into a front pouch of the bag, and around her hips were an array of small and medium sized pouches strapped into the belt of her brown, durable cargo pants, as well as a small and large canteen, and a hatchet (right hip) and machete (left hip). On her feet were black boots, a crude, self-made knife strapped to the outside of the right one, and her shirt was a thick, cotton, short-sleeved t-shirt, dark green in colour.
Mira noticed the lack of sound, something that had been increasing as she drew closer to the forest's end. The air ahead was sickly-looking, grimy and dark, but smelled fine.
Pulling out a piece of rabbit jerky, she chewed on it as she contemplated the city before her, absently counting the fingers of her hand with her thumb, over and over, back and forth.
There wasn't a building conveniently near to the woods that she could use as shelter, but she did see an intact skyscraper in the distance, and shrugging, she headed for it.

Just after dawn when she left, she made good time to the building, picking over rubble and through cracked streets. She only paused now and then to take a five minute break or search promising remains for anything useful, but never found anything useful escept a few stone flakes here and there. Spurred on by a good night's rest, she nevertheless found the hot, dry air getting to her, but made sure to only take a few sips of water from her anteen every now and then.
Once she determined she was an appropriate distance away, she grabbed an arrow and took her bow from her chest, laying both down as she grabbed a tow from one of her pouches and dipped it into the small canteen, which contained oil. She tied it under the arrowhead, grabbed her steel and flint and lit it, then nocked the arrow onto the bow and, taking sight, let fly. It arced through the air, and hopefully, despite the sunlight, would be something to atleast catch the eye and draw attention to her approximate location and possible approach.

It took Mira probably about five minutes more to reach the base of the dilapidated building, and she stopped, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted a greeting as loudly as she could without screaming. All she could hope for was that, at the very least, it didn't sound like a wild or angry battle cry. Or that the person inside wasn't automatically hostile. Or that she wasn't just an idiot signalling and shouting to an empty building in the middle of an empty city.
Taking another sip of water, she unsheathed the machete and walked forward, standing for a moment in the door frame to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimness, before proceeding into the dark interior.

In the corner of Shae's eye something flashed faintly. He turned his head slowly but just in time to catch sight of a small ball of light arching towards the ground. He was unsure of what it was, but it wasn't normal, and that was enough to put him on guard. The notebook was placed back into his coat, the pen slipped behind his ear, and then he stood. He took his time on each action as if savoring every movement. By the time he had gotten to his feet and was staring intently out the window, hands bracing him between its empty frame, he was greeted by another anomoly intruding his usually empty life.

A voice, beautiful to his own ears, bounced violently off the lower buildings and soared up to his high position over the city. His innitial reaction was to take a step back and convince himself he hadn't heard anything, that the voices he had imagined when first coming to the city were back, voices that had been created out of loneliness and depression. They hadn't been heard for a long time, however.

"Why would they come back now?" he murmured under his breath, glancing at the street far below.

He stepped up onto the window sill again and began to comb the layout below him with meticulous eyes, stopping on anything that seemd out of place or disturbed from it usual rest.

It was dark in here, and unfortunately she had never had need or want of a torch before now. She supposed, given enough time, she would have made one, but a few days wasn't enough apparently. And now when she needed one...luckily, however, there were plenty of window spaces and small holes where light could come through, as heavy as it was, and so she made do. Besides, her night vision wasn't too bad, atleast not compared to humans.
Finding stairs, she listened for a moment before starting to jog up them, finding them intact for some way before reaching a landing where the stairs beyond had crumbled apart. Slowly, she sheathed her weapon before searching for another flight, scanning the floor and sipping from her water as she did so. Nothing really seemed to be disturbed. Perhaps the building was empty...she couldn't imagine someone walking up and down so many stairs even once a day. That also meant it was a very good defense, however.

Finding another set, she started making her way up again, before being blocked just the next floor up. Growling in frustration, she paused and drew another piece of jerky from a pouch, listening as she chewed quietly. Then she set out again, heading for the first flight of stairs first, but finding them still out of commission.
Instead, she strode to a window, standing up on the sill and leaning slightly out over the edge, looking up. She thought she saw movement, but it was just a moment, a brief glimpse. It could have been a bird, though she doubted it, or her mind playing tricks.
"Hello?" she shouted again.
She almost lost her balance trying to lean out a little further, and stumbled backwards, falling on her rear with a loud thump.
"Ah! Mother of a kimya..."
Getting up and rubbing her sore bottom, she muttered, "Better be someone in this place, waste of time...worth..." devolving into something unintelligble practically even to herself.

Then she realized she'd lost her jerky over the edge of the building, and let out a string of curses. It had been a big piece, too!
Sighing, she centered herself and breathed deeply for a minute, then went to find more stairs, maybe a working elevator. She couldn't imagine there'd be one, but she did not relish the thought of walking up all the way to the top, especially to find no one there at all. Better they be an enemy even, though after all that climbing, she wasn't sure how well she would do in a fight.
Something poked at the back of her brain, trying to push through the amnesia, remind her of something important, she was sure of it. What it was, though, she obviously couldn't say, except that it was something she felt she should know in the very core of her being, and eyt still didn't seem to.
"Well," she thought, "if it's such a part of me, I'm sure I'll figure it out if I truly need it."
Finding another pair of stairs, she unsheathed her machete, listened again for a few moments, and started trotting up them, keeping an eye out for number plaques or any other identifying marks or objects on walls or floors, even ceilings in the occasional glance she shot that way.

Shea had been staring at the cityscape for quite some time without any indicator to the origin of the voice. Every second that passed convinced him further that he had imagined it, but he continued to search out of desperation. He wasn't sure, if he was honesty, why he would care so much about having any sort of comapny - he was far for a social kind of guy. However, he was in dire need of something inordinary.

'It was just my mind, I'm sure,' Shea thought, a frown wrinkling his face.

As he began to turn from the window the voice, that lovely thing as sweet as a birds song to his lonely ears, echoed again, this time much closer. It sounded out oddly, as if it had somewhere else to go besides the streets, contained and reverberating differently than it had the first time. He couldn't be sure, just as before, where exactly it had come from, but he was sure that if he heard it again he would be able to find whoever it was.

Nervousness pierced past the excitement growing in his chest and brought him back to reality - this aberration, this thing, could be dangerous. If it was he had very little to protect himself besides the usual defences. He had no weapon with him, only his wit and what he could scavenge.

Silhouetted in the window, shadow stretching behind him across the floor, he began to ponder what his next move would be.

Mira made it up quite a lot of flights of stairs before they stopped again, and she stopped on that floor, leaning with her hand against the wall, breathing shallowly and quietly. After a couple of minutes, she sheathed her blade once again and took her canteen off her belt, allowing herself a full gulp of the water before capping it and stowing it away again.
She was starting to get tired, her legs cramping slightly from all the walking she'd been doing the last few days. Deciding to take a little break and do something a bit more fun, she cast around for anything of value wherever she could see best on this floor.
All she got out of it was a thin piece of rope, slightly worn, and strangely, a pencil. The tip was broken off, but with a little carving...she wanted to record what had happened to her so far, what she could remember of her past, the dreams she'd had - keep a journal. She wondered if she'd been that sort of person before.
Then again, she needed paper or canvas or something she could write on in order to actually use the pencil. There was time enough for that later though, she was sure.
The young woman went to the window again, listening, only hearing the slight whistle of wind. Deciding to call out again (why not, she still needed another minute to breathe and gather what could tentatively be called plans), she did so, but stayed back from the actual sill of the window, satisfying herself with simply leaning out and angling as much upwards as she could.
"For Gods sakes, is anyone in this stupid place?!"

Shea definitely heard a voice this time, no doubt about it, as clearly as if it right beside him. He turned quickly to see if there was anyone behind him, but as he moved his feet slipped off the sill. In an instant the room was gone, and he was falling. He was shocked, too shocked to scream, unable to realize what was happening, but as he sped past the building he saw one thing that he was certain of - a girl, only a few stories below his original perch, standing in a window.

A girl - a person! A real person! Those surely would have been his thoughts had he been capable of thinking any.

The young woman heard a small scuffle, then a figure came plummeting down, past the window, nearly hitting her she was leaning out so far. She let out a loud gasp, purple eyes widening as she gripped the sides of the window hard with both hands and stepped up onto the window sill, shaking slightly, barely even able to think.
What should she do? There was nothing she could do! That poor boy was going to go splat all over the ground!
There had to be something she could do...but gravity was inexorable (outside of a spaceship), there was no way...

Her anxiety and confusion racked her body, and suddenly she flickered out of, and then into, existence, now several feet back from the window.
She swayed, a very confused look on her face, and promptly puked onto the floor.
Oh gosh! The guy!
Still feeling naseous, she pushed herself to the edge again, wiping her mouth as she eyed the ground, him, the sill below her feet. She had no idea how to do this, she could kill herself...but her blood was pumping, her heart beating, fast in her ears, telling her to do it because she could, because she had in fact done it before!
Her mind reeled for a moment before she clamped down, focusing. He could only have seconds left, she had to concentrate.

Out of nowhere everything stopped - the falling, his inability to think, and the ground that had been speeding closer and closer. Shea glanced down at himself and snorted rudely, mocking himself silently. The air seemed to propell him upward, and after a quick moment he was back at the level of the girl.

He stared at her rudely, openily, as he hovered above empty space, one hand on his chin and the other hidden inside his unzipped jacket. His head tilted, and the wind nearly pushed off the black fedora carefully placed atop his head, it fluttered, then stilled.

"Who," he mused in a melodic voice, "the kier are you?"

She had closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she realized he was rising upwards, and almost to her level. Blinking, she leaned back to stand directly upright in the window frame, staring at him staring at her.
"Huh. His voice is nice."
It took her a moment to respond, to come back outside of herself, and when she did, a smile accompanied it.
"My name's Mira. What about you?"

It didn't occur to her whatsoever to be offended at his rude staring or rude question (it was kind of an odd situation they found themselves in, wasn't it). Instead she glanced him over, eyes resting for a moment on the hand inside his jacket. Weapon? Perhaps. Understandable.
Now that she knew she could teleport, though, she had no need to worry about resting her hand on her machete, and how it might look to him, being suspicious of him (which she wasn't really anyways, one reason being he looked about the same age as her).

Shea raised his chin at her. "Mira. Nice name. Mira... Mira... feels nice to say."

He floated back a bit, feet stretched out slightly before him. He stared long and hard at all of her accessories, ending specifically on the machete. He smirked.

"You're alien, aren't you? Alien, I mean, to here. You look it." He suddenly sped closer until his nose was nearly touching hers. "Mm, pretty eyes."

Then he pulled back and sighed loudly. Inwardly he was wondering where she had suddenly appeared from and how. No, the better question was why. It was something he had been pondering for a long, long time. Her case looked similar to his own from when he had woken up there, but she had someone to look to for help. He had been all alone.

Mira raised her chin right back, mirroring his smirk, and couldn't help but laugh when he sped in, and then back out. He was an odd one, wasn't he? She supposed she was too, though.
And if he didn't want to give her his name, so be it. It wasn't a necessary thing, and she assumed she would probably find it out at some point.
"You look pretty alien to me, too," she said, grinning, holding up a six-digited hand.

Not to mention his eyes, his coat, and his hat - hats weren't common, and never had she seen such finely smothed and polished leather. It looked nice, but she didn't see a point otherwise. It looking nice was probably good enough of a reason anyways. And his eyes - there were no such warm colours in her people, atleast not in such abundance. Her ring of red was a very rare thing.
And just like, she was remembering things. They weren't of much consequence, but there they were, where they had not been before.

Shaking her head, she focused back onto the boy. She had a feeling she always made the best out of bad situations, but it would do no harm to ask. Maybe he knew something, maybe he'd learned something. Why was he here, and why was she?
"Do you know why you're here? Have you found anyone else?"

Shea laughed sharply. "Others, no. Why I'm here, for that I have a vague thought..."

He pushed past Mira and touched down on the floor. He stared about for a few moments, then walked to the other side of the room and pointed in an accusing manner out the window.

"I came from that direction when I found myself here, and I've been around for months, maybe even years. I lost track. You're like me, I'm sure, memoryless, with small ones slowly coming back. I still can't remember most of myself. There are thoughts, feelings, that are like small tinges of color at the end of my mind - things like why I believe I'm here. There's no proof, just a feeling."

He walked back over and steepled his fingers, resting his chin atop the middle-most one. "Why you are here is what I want to know. For me, I think I am cast down like a fallen angel, someone who did wrong and is being punished for it."

She watched him land, look around, point out the window, and listened to him speak, tilting her head.
Mira remembered all of herself, really. Just not necessarily why she thought this certain thing that she knew she hadn't thought since birth.
A fallen angel, huh?
She thought that one over, and found she couldn't entirely dismiss it. But she didn't really tend to do bad things, she knew that much.
"I have no idea if that's why I'm here," she replied, turning back to the window. Stress was welling up in her, just a little.

Plopping down onto the floor, she faced him again and, crossing her legs, placed her hands palm down on her knees, stabilizing and steadying herself. She made herself breathe deeply.
"I doubt I did anything wrong. Maybe we were just taken because of our powers. Who knows?"
Years, though. Such a long time...she'd only been here a few days, was keeping track of it. Planned on continuing to keep track of it. She certainly hoped they wouldn't be there again as long without answers, or something.
"That sounds boring. What do you do??"
Actually, now that she had this power - or more accurately, realized she had it, it didn't matter how far away her forest camp, or the forest in general, was. Well...up to a point, she supposed. She could probably handle a teleport to and from there once a day. Hopefully.

She was just going to have to test it out.
Breathing deeply again, she added to her last question almost immediateky after she asked it.
"All day, I mean. And what about food, and washing clothes, and spare clothes?"
Why was she even asking these things, really? She definitely couldn't stand the thought of being here for even months with nothing changing, certainly not years. She felt like she'd go crazy.
Was he crazy? He didn't seem crazy.

Again she added yet another question. She was rambling.
"How did you handle being alone so long? And why do you think it's a punishment?"
Maybe a silly question, but she was actually enjoying herself, despite missing people she didn't know, a life she couldn't remember.
Mira needed to get a hold of herself - she was letting her anxiety race through her brain, shoot out of her mouth, and instead of continuing to do so, she got up, shaking her head.
"Give me a moment. Think on those."
She looked down over the edge, and teleported to the ground, still not used to the sensation - so she ended up vomiting again, but nothing came up this time. Grimacing, she opened and closed her hands as she took in a deep breath and slowly started making her way across the rubble, in a pacing pattern.

Really difficult way to pace, she realized, and looked back to the building. Fortunately, she could recognize which story she'd been on.
Clearing her mind, she sat down again.

Shea watched her with a flat expression. Her response wasn't unwarrented - he could remember feeling similarly when he had first gotten to the city. Her questions were nearly all ones that had bothered him for the first few days of his arrival, but Shea wasn't an easily frazzled guy, and he'd quickly given up on the idea of finding someone to answer him. Mira waw lucky that she didn't have to try on her own.

Her power intrigued him. It was useful, to be sure, and if he couldn't have it for his own then he would have to make sure she didn't leave him at any point. He wasn't positively sure, but he had an inkling that her appearance would change things, change the way he had been living. If they were from the same place... from the same people...

Shea sniffed and stared intently at her tiny form far below her, then looked at the side of the building. He jumped into the air and floated in a sitting position, watching her, waiting for her.  

The story takes place in The Game Maker's abandoned city and the surrounding forest, a home given to him by the people he came from in order to keep out of trouble and away from the humans.

Once, the world was torn by war. There were many stories to be told out of it, but one of the most well known was of The Game Maker, an alien, the being said to be responsible for the swaying of nations and the beginnings of the war. The war ended, and the tales fell to sleep, but the quiet wouldn't last.

In the middle of the night children begin to go missing across the planet. They would be simple missing persons cases if not for the black brand singed into the floors beneath their beds, a symbol most commonly associated with The Game Maker. No matter how hard anyone looks the children and teens are no where to be found.

Meanwhile, in the depth of a jungle in a long deserted country The Game Maker, once alone in his decrepit, abandoned city, finds himself visited by suddenly appearing newcomers and new problems. Unbenounced to him, he and his visitors, the missing children, have now become a part of a game that is above him run by people who seek to punish him for his part in the war. Each day poses a new problem, and it's a fight for survival.

No history yet, honestly.

Try to come up with a totally unique character - stereotypes are boring, friends.

You can only kill another character if you have their owner's permission.

No cursing - come up with something else to say.

Don't be that person who takes over another character.

Be happy, have fun - no one likes a bum.

Don't assume anything from time of day to how other characters are going to treat you.

Don't let things that happen in character affect or influence how you treat someone out of character, and please don't use your character as a way to get at another roleplayer. Don't be cheap, darlings.

If you have any questions whether about a character, the setting, anything, send me a message! I love answering questions, and I love coming up with answers for ones I haven't thought about before, so don't be afraid to hit me up!

Also, guys, huge thing - please, please, please don't be afraid to write a huge, 500 word post if you need to detailing your character's time at home before ending up in the Creator's City, or telling us about your character's morning routine, or whatever. If you want to post something huge that's going to take some time to write, just say so in the OOC chat.

In addition to that last bit, if someone does hit up the OOC chat saying they're writing something huge, wait until they've posted to post anything yourself. There are exceptions, but just ask if you super want to post something while someone else is coming up with their mega post.

If you want to be a character that's kind of vague (e.g. Post Apocalyptic Being, Other, etc.) either shoot me a message specifying what kind of being/other you're thinking, and I'll let you know if it rather fits.

Breaking the rules can end up in being expelled (kicked out, or whatever you want to call it) from the roleplay depending on the offence.

Also, please always check the OOC chat before making a post, just in case something's up. If more than two people are online and are all roleplaying at the same time you can call dibs on posting next if you feel your post needs to be read after the one last written.