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eyyliner

ミ✭
bound by time — ic.

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plot.
Every second you exist is another moment lost in time. However, not everyone loses that time. Timekeepers—or keepers for short—are a group of people who work underneath father time himself to improve the world at large. Their goal? They're considered a last resort... the ones who have to re-write history to improve the world from the awful wasteland that is the future. As for how they're chosen, it's not really stated explicitly. Father time has mentioned that its because they've played a part in an event that impacted the future. Forcing them out of their original timeline left an impact. For the better is the term typically left unsaid. So, with a team of morally grey members, the timekeepers are changing the world—one moment at a time.

This roleplay is meant to be a group of characters who travel through time to different places in the world to stop or encourage an event to happen. Their main initiative? To finish their mission without getting caught or compromised. There is only so many times Father time is capable of taking multiple people to a certain time frame. After one or two attempts, they must return back to the base to either improve the plan or continue on to their next mission without re-doing their failed mission. In which case, the whole timeline of the world can be rewritten and fall further into chaos in the future.


setting.
This roleplay will be set mostly at the time palace of Father Time. This is the part of the universe that is reserved for him to dwell in. It was no surprise that when he created the concept of the timekeepers, he made adjustments to allow them to live alongside him. Each member has their own living space and also their own office. There are several conjoined offices on the same level that serves as a meeting place. It is used frequently by the members. Besides from being a place to socialize, it is also a crucial part of their operations.

involved members.
i. mei ling huang
ii. granden h. bell
iii. suki aslan
iv. tarao no chikuami
v. vasilisa ivashkov
vi. alistair thomson
vi. teddy foster
vii. ryuuzaki ouji
viii. aimi sato
ix. reece wolfthal
x. zavianna richards
xi. yago orozco




locations.
8 floors. Different sections. Each one unique and sometimes entirely unexplored.

FLOOR ONE ; the kitchens, the dining area, entertainment / living rooms, the door that leads to the grounds. Also, the garden area and lake near the property are in the back of the castle.

FLOOR TWO ; several sleeping chambers, bathrooms, more living rooms, a game room. A few doors that lead to nowhere unless you use your time-traveling device.

FLOOR THREE ; more sleeping chambers, a small library, more bathrooms.

FLOOR FOUR ; more sleeping chambers, several offices for the members to study, another small library.

FLOOR FIVE ; this floor is made up entirely of a library. There it contains more knowledge than anyone besides Father Time has time to read.

FLOOR SIX ; Work stations, more offices, meeting rooms, a small kitchenette for those who are too devoted to their work to walk down five flights of stairs.

FLOOR SEVEN ; the simulation room that has several chambers for smaller groups. Used very frequently by all the members.

FLOOR EIGHT ; The stairs lead to two large doors that are always locked. No member of the time keepers has ever been inside.

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mei ling huang
The ticking of a clock could be heard throughout the palace. Although it was the background noise that followed them every moment of the day, it still caused Mei to wake up earlier than she had intended.

Hazily opening her eyes, she slowly blinked until she was staring towards the far wall.

A sliver of sunlight was creeping through the blinds, cascading over her carpeted floor to fall over her dark satin covers. Groaning to herself, she intended to roll over to fall back asleep. That plan was quickly dashed whenever the clock finally struck seven A.M.

It was with little ceremony that it began to chime.

Groaning louder in response, she waited until the seven chimes had passed. With the last note hanging in the air, she peeked out of the covers. Black hair stuck up in all directions as she got to her feet, brows furrowed. She trudged over to her curtains, shutting her eyes before she pulled them open. Frowning at the sunlight permeating behind her closed lids, she turned and made her way to the bathroom.

Her morning routine commenced with little fanfare.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she got dressed for the day. She moved to grab her time traveler device, slipping the harness around her thigh. She checked the time on the clock face, a little relieved to see that it was a long way before eight o'clock.

Leaving the room, she made her way down the long hallway towards the spiraling stairs. The pretty golden banister gleamed in the morning light as she descended. Pausing in her movements, she glanced up the staircase. It spanned up to eight levels, connected to different levels of the castle. She didn't notice any movement from any of the other members. With a sigh, she continued on her trek to the kitchen.

It took her several minutes to get to her destination.

She was hellbent as she went about setting up the coffee machine for its first brew of the day.

The routine was a familiar one.

Although Mei Ling wasn't considered the 'friendliest' of the timekeepers, she was still kind enough to make the coffee for anyone who drank it.

The caffeine was a small saving grace for all the work she and the rest of the members had to do that day.
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coded by reveriee.
 








Spritz of perfume fell upon the nape of her neck. When the last sprinkle had fallen she placed the small bottle of glass down back on the vanity. Zavianna smiled at the girl staring back at her in the mirror, before pushing herself out of her chair. She strode towards her closet and opened it up. Her time traveler device made an appearance. Zavianna's expression at seeing it wasn't a pleasant one. It was bulky, too bulky for her liking. Father Time said she would eventually get used to it but she felt like she never would. Nonetheless she still put it on. Comfort wouldn't matter if she was dead.

Her hands paused as she put her device on. Technically speaking.. she was dead. Zavianna shook her head, freshly curled hair bouncing with each movement of the person it was attached to.
"Get it together. Focus on today not something that can't be changed."
With that mindset she finished getting ready. She turned the door handle and left her room, door shutting with a soft click sound behind her. Something she didn't account for this morning was waking up before those annoying seven chimes had rung so she relished in the moment even lingering in her room a few minutes after they had rang.

Zavianna descended the spiraling staircase, stopping momentarily once the scent of a familiar morning brew entered her nose. Someone was already up and they were making coffee. Coffee wasn't a drink she liked unlike many others. She could drink it but it definitely wasn't one of her favorites. After a few minutes of walking she finally reached the kitchen. Zavianna peeked her head inside from the doorway.
"Good morning Mei Ling!"
She immediately cringed upon hearing how cheery her voice was. It was early in the morning and hearing such a loud voice probably wasn't on the older woman's checklist for today.

Zavianna strolled into the kitchen immediately heading for the fridge. She was sort of awkward around the other members. There wasn't anything wrong with them it was just the stark differences they all held. Their cultures were different, the way the spoke was different, the interests they held... Everything about them was a far cry from her. They were all walking history books, there was even a member who lived 445 years ago during the Warring States period. If they were strange to her she couldn't even imagine what she must be like for them.

Zavianna was a modern girl who did modern things. There was no changing that and it was probably the same for them.







regular member



Zavianna.













♡coded by uxie♡
 
loose cannon
mood
Happy but in a real hurry
outfit
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Tedrick Foster

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

Tedrick bit his lip at the sound of his grimy boots echoing throughout the first floor of the building. He was covered head-to-toe in grass, dirt, and small cuts. He reeked of gasoline and smoke. There was what looked to be a broken machine tucked under his right arm.

He slowly took another step towards the flight of stairs in front of him, not wanting to disturb anyone who might still be sleeping and trying to steer clear of anyone who had just gotten up. He had just barely avoided running into Zavianna a few seconds ago.

Tedrick had been up since 5 am that day – a waking habit that had been deeply ingrained into his system from his time in the military– and had nothing to do and no one to talk to. He figured he could use this time to help the groundskeeper Koda by maybe surprising him with a lawn of freshly cut grass. And while Tedrick was able to work on some grass patches that morning, his incredible ability to screw small machinery over led to the explosion of the grasscutter in his hands. Needless to say, the results were not pretty.

At present, the seven chimes had already sounded a couple of minutes ago. Tedrick needed to get ready fast and clean up the grease, grass, and mud that trailed behind his each step. He didn’t want any of the other members slipping on them. And he certainly wasn't looking to get lectured by Big Papa Time for it. As he cautiously took hold of the stair railings and put down a foot on the first step, he thought to himself that maybe he should’ve just scaled the walls from the outside to his room. It would’ve been so easy, he just needed to avoid the windows so he wouldn’t get caught. He shook his head, “It’s too late for that now.” With a quick glance around him to confirm that no one was in sight, he bolted up the stairs, slipping and falling down a couple of flights three or four times.

As soon as he reached his floor he dashed for his room and excitedly tugged his shirt above his head. A button snagged on his hair and he pulled at it, not noticing that he had arrived at his destination and was standing in front of his room. Distracted by his clothing dilemma, he wiggled around and in the process, rammed headfirst into his door. The door burst from its hinges and came crashing down onto the floor with a bang. The sound shook the hallway. Tedrick whispered a small “Sorry” to the other residents whose mornings he probably just ruined. He made a mental note to apologize to them later. For now, he needed to clean up. He took the broken door and tried to position it as best as he could back into its frame, nuts and bolts falling off and clanking onto the floor.

He took a step back to see if it would tip over. “That’ll have to do for now,” he said, one hand on his hip, a smoking machine under his other arm, and the shirt still snagged and hanging onto his hair. “Now time for that bath,” he said as he jumped out of his clothes and hopped into the shower.

After a quick off-key singing concert in the shower, he got himself ready and took the stairs down to the kitchen, careful not to slip on the messy trail he left a while ago. As soon as he entered, his senses were assaulted by the aroma of coffee and the sound of utensils clinking. He felt warm inside, remembering a similar scene back in the orphanage, when his little self snuck into the kitchen during the wee hours of the morning to snag himself some bread. His mouth watered just thinking of it. But he shook his head, “Clean stairs first, gorge later.”

He noticed Mei Ling and Zavianna in the kitchen. He paused for a moment. He didn't really know what to think of either of them.

Mei Ling had always been a tough person to figure out. Tedrick didn’t know if her silence was because she was just a serious person or if she actually despised his existence. He assumed it was probably both.

As for Zavianna, though she always smelled really good, the lady was from the future. She probably knew really advanced brainiac stuff. Compared to her, Tedrick was practically a Neanderthal. For all he knew, she could probably make a fork shoot lasers out from its tips just like in one of the weird spaceship movies he was able to watch when he joined the Timekeepers. She was a strange one, that Zavianna. Strange habits, strange slang, and strange clothing combinations that would get a person strange looks from the people of his time.

But strange was exciting. That's why he loved being in the Timekeepers, it exposed him to many interesting individuals.

But as much as he found these two women intriguing and attractive in their own ways, he didn't know how to interact with them. The best he could do was assume that people from all eras appreciated a greeting in the morning.

"Good day Miss Huang, Miss Richards,” he saluted the two with a big smile. "Looking great as usual. How are you doing this fine morning?”

“Okay? Good? Great? Amazing?" he rattled on as he roamed around the kitchen, rummaging through drawers and cabinets, careful not to tug or grip anything too hard. He didn’t want to get into any more trouble than he was already in.

"The coffee smells diiivine, by the way. I’d ask if I could try some but I need to clean something– or er.. well, somethings– up first. Know where a guy can find a rag or mop around here?"
coded by natasha.
 
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ryuuzaki ouji.





































  • mood



    headache and pain.
















ryuuzaki was woken up rudely by his alarm clock in the middle of a really, really nice dream. He can't recall the exact content of the dream, because his mind is awfully blurry, possibly even worse than his eyesight, but he can recalls that there were lots of women around him, more than he could count.

Easing his head back onto the pillow, ryuuzaki pondered about getting more beauty sleep, but then again if he skips today then there's a huge chance of getting slaughtered by the rest of the group tomorrow. Scary thoughts.

Reaching a hand out to close the curtains, he had an absoute pounding headache. The smell of the new vanilla scented candles that he bought last week wasn't helping with the hungover haunting him from last night. Maybe ryuuzaki shouldn't have fucking chugged that damn vodka.

Heading outside for a smoke right after he brushed his teeth. Ryuuzaki will never get the gist of why people loves watching the sky, it looks all the same. Weird sensation of cheap coffee smokey taste filling his lungs, willing away the faint but irritating migraine pounding in his head. A huge bang was heard even from his room. How are they so lively and awake at the crack of dawn, it's literally seven in the morning.

Taking the last puff, ryuuzaki headed back into his room. Lazing around isn't gonna do shit. Deciding to let fate choose his clothes, he picked up the shirt on the top of the clothing chair, fancy name for a messy chair with clean clothes thrown on because he's too lazy to fold them. Leather jacket paired with a random white tee and call it a day.

Maybe he should skip the day after all, staring down at the endless corridors and stair cases. He barely made it into the kitchen. There's already a faint smell of coffee, probably the second in command and her coffee again. Ryuuzaki is more of a tea person than a coffee person in all honesty, innit.

A cheerful voice is heard throughout the kitchen. Morning people are so fucking scary ryuuzaki muttered under his breath, ruffling a hand through his messy locks he plopped down onto the first chair he saw.

There was already three people in the kitchen. The second-in-command, source of the coffee smell, the modern lady and an overly excited guy. Is it too late to go back to sleep. "G'morning." he greeted the others in the room half-heartedly. Plopping his head back onto his palm.

"Do you need help with your cleaning ? M'good sir." A nickname that he picked up for everyone's favorite ray of sunshine. Teasing the other for his terrible nickname choice.

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡
 




YAGO.

He used to dream of nightmares, his past twisted into symbolic surrealism and contorted tissue, but there was less of that lately. Instead, his recent memories decanted into the subconscious and—overlooking the small, silly ways in which dreams made up for the gaps—echoed the past. The literal past, that was, the one recorded by ink and parchment or carved into wax tablets—impersonal and bigger than himself. Now he dreamt of thick snow blowing against canvas huts made of reindeer skin pulled taut by leather cord, of his breath hanging by his lips long after he exhaled, an axe handle clutched in his hands and, deep under the spell of REM sleep, he replicated how he focused on flame glinting off a wide piece of sharpened iron because he was, admittedly, scared of what daybreak brought. He dreamt of a marble temple and the bubbling creek running through it, the scent of herbs pulverized and the sound of coughing as he knelt beside a man with pocked skin, steadied a cup on his cracked lips, and tipped poison disguised as water into his mouth. He dreamt of a long pilgrimage, periwinkle fabric draped over his face, his feet slipping down into loose sand with every step as he led a roan colt calmly to the slaughter-stone, grit and tears and snot mixing on a girl's cheeks as her heartbreak manifested into howls behind him. He mostly dreamt of war though, utilized as a tool for violence, a familiar bridge between his old and current life.

White noise disintegrated, though the burner CD labeled with chicken scratch sharpie continued to rotate in the stereo. Yago stirred in the absence of sound, that angry fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. A decade behind bars shaped him, scarred at a place deeper than skin, and, of course, learned habits were always hard to break. As a result, he expected the worst when he pulled a blanket from his face but was met with the stillness of his office, lights still on, hovering dust particles exposed by a blade of light slipping past split curtains mounted on an arched window, and an ache in his joints that so often accompanied sleeping on a couch. He pressed a palm to his eye socket and the darkened circle of skin under it and rubbed. He removed his hand slowly, dragging it down his face, then sat up, piecing together the day’s itinerary.

He stood, retreated to his room, brushed his teeth, paused when he heard a loud noise followed by another and another, squinted, then emerged several minutes after the signature chiming sounded, and descended the stairs to the kitchen.

Yago walks with confidence, shoulders back, legs wide; it’s not a momentary fact, but a constant. He seizes energy he doesn’t have, is easy, breezy, and light. So when he rounded Ryuuzaki in a chair, he stooped down as he walked, clapped twice to rouse him, said, “¡Oye, baby, ponte las pilas!” before acknowledging the room with a, “What is up, everypony? How’re we feeling today?”

He worked past Mei Ling and Zavianna and Teddy in the room, reaching over a counter to get at a fruit bowl, making his way to the sink. His hair fell forward and framed his face as he bent to the facet and washed an apple under a stream of tepid water. He shook it dry, turned his body back to everyone, leaned, folded his arms. He bit into the apple; the bitterness bit back. And he could taste citrus bursting over his tongue as he ground pulp and skin into paste between his teeth. His gaze bounced after Teddy, his concern marked by a rising brow, “Don’t tell me y’all already made a mess outta something?”

code by listener
 

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