Psy
Wonder Woman
I'm Psy! I'm 25 and I live in the US.
I have two master's degrees because apparently I hate myself.
I enjoy dark fiction and darker humour.
Type of partner(s) I'm interested in:
- Detailed and literate. At least 3+ paragraphs for each reply. Not too bad.
- Willing to take a male role. I can double up as male, but my main character would be female.
- 18+ years old, please!
- Fairly active and will stick around. Don't leave me hanging.
- Enjoys dark/horror RPs!
RP Details:
• Dark or horror themed, mostly. It depends on the ideas thrown my way or what I think up. I'm open to other ideas.
• MxF. Like I said, I take the female role, but I can double as a male if there's a need.
• Romance is nice, but it won't be the main focus. There needs to be a plot outside of that.
• I don't like damsel in distress characters - male or female. Badassery preferred.
One on ones I'm interested in and the types of characters I tend to go for:
• Mafia (two ideas) - Idea A: My character would be a woman who is pretty high up in the ranks. Other details can be figured out later. Idea B: Character whose life is in danger because she has information on a crime family that could take them down.
• Vampire/Hunter - I can be either depending on what you want to be.
• Vampire/Witch - I can be either though I prefer witch.
• Any other supernatural - My character would depend on the plot. Could be vampire, witch, werewolf, or any other sort of supernatural being. Let me know!
• Superheroes/Heroes without powers - The type of character depends on the plot. I like for my characters to have an element of evil.
• Murder mystery of sorts - Depends. We can work it out if you're interested.
• Royals - This could be a lot of things. War, plot with a magical element, etc. We can work it out.
• Your idea - Let me know!
PM me and let me know what you're interested and we can figure it out.
Original characters I want to try out if anyone is interested:
Character sheet for space plot:
Name: Seren Keene
Gender: Female
Species (if necessary): Human-A. An early prototype of human subspecies.
Age: 25
Eyes: Light grey - almost with a hint of lavender if you looked closely enough. The lavender becomes more noticeable when she's feeling any sort of strong emotion, like anger, sadness, or love.
Hair: Dark brown, long, usually kept up now that it's longer.
Height: 5'6"
Body Type/Other (tattoos, scars, etc): Petite, fit. Noticeable deep scar above her left eyebrow. Another, more shallow scar on her neck. Both from blades. If the one on her neck had been deeper, she would have bled out. She got them after the fallout and serves as a reminder of how she - and the rest of them - are not invincible.
Power: Enhanced strength (not super strength, just enhanced, and usually underestimated), enhanced agility.
Home Planet: Hadron. Planet where subspecies Human-A was sent for testing hundreds of years ago. The early ones were given powers that they couldn't handle. Eventually the subspecies adapted and evolved to what they are now, and many of them are much like Seren.
Armour/Clothes: Black, armoured body suit. The metal shoulder armour sit outside of the suit, protruding upwards to give the suit a winged look. Metal plates also cover her hips. Black steel toed boots. On her off days, her clothing choices are a bit more relaxed, but there aren't many off days.
Weapon of choice: Usually just herself. Occasionally makes do with the anti-spacecraft weaponry attached to her ship. Sometimes carries a large gun over her shoulder depending on the size of the fight.
Parents: Oren and Sarita Keene, both alive.
Siblings: Raph "Wrath" Keene, commander of an opposing crew.
Marital Status: Single
Children: None
Position in crew: Formerly 2nd in command.
Occupation before rejoining: Continued working on her own after Tyrus' death and the fallout of the crew.
Background: Seren lived a relatively peaceful life up until the end of her teenage years. When she was 19, her brother left and joined a crew that had been antagonising other planets. she had seen him a few times since then - mostly when she was going up against him - and he was a completely changed person. Originally, she'd gone out on her own to try and get him back, but it was very clear early on that that wouldn't be happening. So she put her abilities to better use.
She joined the newly formed crew when she was 20. She'd been chasing a gang of pirates - three ships against her own. At some point her machinery malfunctioned, and the pirates figured that out. They turned on her. Tyrus and Arash had been watching in their own ship nearby - Tyrus later joked that they'd made a bet to see if she could actually take down all three of them in her small ship. When they realised she was in trouble, they took over and essentially saved her ass. She was only supposed to stay until her ship was fixed up but something just clicked. When they asked her to be part of the crew, she happily accepted and put her smarts and minimal powers to use, quickly gaining rank. Eventually she was appointed 2nd in command - it would have been Tyrus but he didn't care much for ranks. And it didn't matter anyway because he still liked to boss people around.
At one point, there had been five of them - Tyrus was dead and Nema was off fighting some addiction. Last they'd spoken, Nema didn't even remember who she was. The others had been staying away from her as she had so angrily requested.
Seren feels completely responsible for the death of Tyrus. When found out her brother, the newly appointed commander of his crew, was close by, she went off on her own to confront him. The others had tried to stop her - tried to tell her that she'd be going against a much larger crew and she was only one person. So, in trying to stop her from getting herself killed, they had followed her. Tyrus died because she was too naive to believe that the brother she once knew was gone. Even more naive to try and save him at the last minute. The guilt she felt was initially the reason why she sent everyone away. She couldn't look the others - especially Arash - without feeling the weight of it all.
---
"I told you not to follow me, and you promised that you wouldn't," she growled, her gaze moving quickly from one crew member to another. Her eyes were almost glowing purple, something that happened when she was angry, which wasn't often.
"We decided to for your safety," Nema said, her voice trembling. She was turned away from the crew, trying not to show her tears.
"No, you mean Arash made the decision for you," Seren said, turning her wrath onto him. She could see the anger and the pain in his eyes but she continued anyway. "For my safety, yeah? Or because you couldn't trust me to take care of myself? Because of your stupid decision, Tyrus is gone."
Seren began to pace. The anger was keeping the tears at bay. Stopping, she turned back to face Arash. "No, you know what? Because of your stupid decision you lost him and you lost me. The rest of you..."
She looked from Crow to Nema. "Maybe make a decision for yourself for once. Palaes," she said, meaning cowards in Hadrones.
Seren turned on her heel and began heading down towards the hangar where her ship was. "Do not ever contact me again," she yelled. Part of her was almost expecting Arash to blast her into the next galaxy or at least fire something back at her. If he said anything, she didn't hear it because she was in her ship. After she'd gotten far enough away, she put the ship on autopilot and broke down crying.
---
The crew was well known at one point, and their fallout had shaken up the safety of some key planets. After two years, villainous people were running rampant through the galaxies - all of them a product of their own corrupted planets. This was why, after two years of being apart, she had to call what was left of the crew back together. The danger was getting out of hand and even more threats were looming on the horizon.
Personality: When she's not defending/fighting, she's usually very calm and somewhat distant until warming up to people. This changes when she's in her element. During battles, she can be a little bit cocky and excited but in an endearing way - at least she likes to think so. The crew was pretty tough, it was hard not to get a little into it.
Gender: Female
Species (if necessary): Human-A. An early prototype of human subspecies.
Age: 25
Eyes: Light grey - almost with a hint of lavender if you looked closely enough. The lavender becomes more noticeable when she's feeling any sort of strong emotion, like anger, sadness, or love.
Hair: Dark brown, long, usually kept up now that it's longer.
Height: 5'6"
Body Type/Other (tattoos, scars, etc): Petite, fit. Noticeable deep scar above her left eyebrow. Another, more shallow scar on her neck. Both from blades. If the one on her neck had been deeper, she would have bled out. She got them after the fallout and serves as a reminder of how she - and the rest of them - are not invincible.
Power: Enhanced strength (not super strength, just enhanced, and usually underestimated), enhanced agility.
Home Planet: Hadron. Planet where subspecies Human-A was sent for testing hundreds of years ago. The early ones were given powers that they couldn't handle. Eventually the subspecies adapted and evolved to what they are now, and many of them are much like Seren.
Armour/Clothes: Black, armoured body suit. The metal shoulder armour sit outside of the suit, protruding upwards to give the suit a winged look. Metal plates also cover her hips. Black steel toed boots. On her off days, her clothing choices are a bit more relaxed, but there aren't many off days.
Weapon of choice: Usually just herself. Occasionally makes do with the anti-spacecraft weaponry attached to her ship. Sometimes carries a large gun over her shoulder depending on the size of the fight.
Parents: Oren and Sarita Keene, both alive.
Siblings: Raph "Wrath" Keene, commander of an opposing crew.
Marital Status: Single
Children: None
Position in crew: Formerly 2nd in command.
Occupation before rejoining: Continued working on her own after Tyrus' death and the fallout of the crew.
Background: Seren lived a relatively peaceful life up until the end of her teenage years. When she was 19, her brother left and joined a crew that had been antagonising other planets. she had seen him a few times since then - mostly when she was going up against him - and he was a completely changed person. Originally, she'd gone out on her own to try and get him back, but it was very clear early on that that wouldn't be happening. So she put her abilities to better use.
She joined the newly formed crew when she was 20. She'd been chasing a gang of pirates - three ships against her own. At some point her machinery malfunctioned, and the pirates figured that out. They turned on her. Tyrus and Arash had been watching in their own ship nearby - Tyrus later joked that they'd made a bet to see if she could actually take down all three of them in her small ship. When they realised she was in trouble, they took over and essentially saved her ass. She was only supposed to stay until her ship was fixed up but something just clicked. When they asked her to be part of the crew, she happily accepted and put her smarts and minimal powers to use, quickly gaining rank. Eventually she was appointed 2nd in command - it would have been Tyrus but he didn't care much for ranks. And it didn't matter anyway because he still liked to boss people around.
At one point, there had been five of them - Tyrus was dead and Nema was off fighting some addiction. Last they'd spoken, Nema didn't even remember who she was. The others had been staying away from her as she had so angrily requested.
Seren feels completely responsible for the death of Tyrus. When found out her brother, the newly appointed commander of his crew, was close by, she went off on her own to confront him. The others had tried to stop her - tried to tell her that she'd be going against a much larger crew and she was only one person. So, in trying to stop her from getting herself killed, they had followed her. Tyrus died because she was too naive to believe that the brother she once knew was gone. Even more naive to try and save him at the last minute. The guilt she felt was initially the reason why she sent everyone away. She couldn't look the others - especially Arash - without feeling the weight of it all.
---
"I told you not to follow me, and you promised that you wouldn't," she growled, her gaze moving quickly from one crew member to another. Her eyes were almost glowing purple, something that happened when she was angry, which wasn't often.
"We decided to for your safety," Nema said, her voice trembling. She was turned away from the crew, trying not to show her tears.
"No, you mean Arash made the decision for you," Seren said, turning her wrath onto him. She could see the anger and the pain in his eyes but she continued anyway. "For my safety, yeah? Or because you couldn't trust me to take care of myself? Because of your stupid decision, Tyrus is gone."
Seren began to pace. The anger was keeping the tears at bay. Stopping, she turned back to face Arash. "No, you know what? Because of your stupid decision you lost him and you lost me. The rest of you..."
She looked from Crow to Nema. "Maybe make a decision for yourself for once. Palaes," she said, meaning cowards in Hadrones.
Seren turned on her heel and began heading down towards the hangar where her ship was. "Do not ever contact me again," she yelled. Part of her was almost expecting Arash to blast her into the next galaxy or at least fire something back at her. If he said anything, she didn't hear it because she was in her ship. After she'd gotten far enough away, she put the ship on autopilot and broke down crying.
---
The crew was well known at one point, and their fallout had shaken up the safety of some key planets. After two years, villainous people were running rampant through the galaxies - all of them a product of their own corrupted planets. This was why, after two years of being apart, she had to call what was left of the crew back together. The danger was getting out of hand and even more threats were looming on the horizon.
Personality: When she's not defending/fighting, she's usually very calm and somewhat distant until warming up to people. This changes when she's in her element. During battles, she can be a little bit cocky and excited but in an endearing way - at least she likes to think so. The crew was pretty tough, it was hard not to get a little into it.
Gods and goddesses plot:
Karina was radiating heat. It was as if she had been an asteroid - great enough to not burn up in the atmosphere during the descent but not completely immune to a fiery entrance either. It was quickly wearing off. In truth, it had been worse days before, when she could have stripped down to nothing, gone into the cold, and felt only warmth. It was not particularly something she was enjoying as it meant that when it did wear off, the cold of the north would come for her tenfold.
Though the details of how she had found herself here were unknown to her, she had her suspicions. She had been called before the Gods, given an objective, and thrown to the snow. All she knew of for certain now was this objective: to kill a man by the name of Romund Alfgar. The man himself was useless. He posed no threat to anything or anyone… but they wanted him gone. It angered her. They had given her such a menial task, as if she was not worthy of something great though she knew she was.
Despite the temperature of her skin and blood, she pushed on through the snow with a fur cloak draped over her shoulder. The hood itself protected her jet black hair from the snow the howling winds were pushing onto her. Underneath was a dress, same colour as her hair - not proper attire for the North, no, but she could not help what the Gods had left her with. Attached to her hip was a sword, and at her shoulder was a smaller blade, almost identical in design to the one at her hip. Gifted to her upon birth. They were unlike any typical blades found in the North so she did her best to hide them.
Karina let out a sigh of relief as she came upon the town. It was small - which meant that the influence of those now after her would possibly not reach it. It was a death sentence, ignoring the mission she had been given, and she would immediately be sent up for punishment if they found her. So they would not find her - though no doubt they would be looking.
There were questioning glances as she passed through the town square, of course. It was strange to see someone come in from the snow without a mount or unaccompanied by others. Upon reaching the tavern, she pulled the doors open and was hit by another wave of heat from the fireplaces burning within. Ignoring the inquisitive looks, she made her way to the bar and shook the cloak from her shoulders.
“Were you not cold? Temperatures have dropped a bit this evening,” said the barkeep, referring to the bare arms beneath her cloak. Intense, sea green eyes watched as his gaze lingered on the weapons for a moment and, thankfully, decided to ignore them.
“Not in the slightest. Ale, please, if you will,” she said, voice sounding slightly serene - also a bit strange for someone coming in from the snow, usually powerful enough to steal the voice of anyone. She took a seat afterwards and enjoyed the a bit of the freedom from the warmth of her cloak. The building was warm, yes, but it was nothing compared to how she had been feeling under the weight of her clothing. The town itself did seem safe - for now - but she would learn more about it later. At this moment, she needed some peace.
"Where have you come in from?" The barkeep asked as he placed the tankard in front of her.
"I don't believe that matters," Karina said, locking eyes with him. It was not the best answer but it was the only one she could give at this moment. Northerners... they kept to themselves. His question was friendly but it was understandable for her not to answer it. At least she thought so.
Though the details of how she had found herself here were unknown to her, she had her suspicions. She had been called before the Gods, given an objective, and thrown to the snow. All she knew of for certain now was this objective: to kill a man by the name of Romund Alfgar. The man himself was useless. He posed no threat to anything or anyone… but they wanted him gone. It angered her. They had given her such a menial task, as if she was not worthy of something great though she knew she was.
Despite the temperature of her skin and blood, she pushed on through the snow with a fur cloak draped over her shoulder. The hood itself protected her jet black hair from the snow the howling winds were pushing onto her. Underneath was a dress, same colour as her hair - not proper attire for the North, no, but she could not help what the Gods had left her with. Attached to her hip was a sword, and at her shoulder was a smaller blade, almost identical in design to the one at her hip. Gifted to her upon birth. They were unlike any typical blades found in the North so she did her best to hide them.
Karina let out a sigh of relief as she came upon the town. It was small - which meant that the influence of those now after her would possibly not reach it. It was a death sentence, ignoring the mission she had been given, and she would immediately be sent up for punishment if they found her. So they would not find her - though no doubt they would be looking.
There were questioning glances as she passed through the town square, of course. It was strange to see someone come in from the snow without a mount or unaccompanied by others. Upon reaching the tavern, she pulled the doors open and was hit by another wave of heat from the fireplaces burning within. Ignoring the inquisitive looks, she made her way to the bar and shook the cloak from her shoulders.
“Were you not cold? Temperatures have dropped a bit this evening,” said the barkeep, referring to the bare arms beneath her cloak. Intense, sea green eyes watched as his gaze lingered on the weapons for a moment and, thankfully, decided to ignore them.
“Not in the slightest. Ale, please, if you will,” she said, voice sounding slightly serene - also a bit strange for someone coming in from the snow, usually powerful enough to steal the voice of anyone. She took a seat afterwards and enjoyed the a bit of the freedom from the warmth of her cloak. The building was warm, yes, but it was nothing compared to how she had been feeling under the weight of her clothing. The town itself did seem safe - for now - but she would learn more about it later. At this moment, she needed some peace.
"Where have you come in from?" The barkeep asked as he placed the tankard in front of her.
"I don't believe that matters," Karina said, locking eyes with him. It was not the best answer but it was the only one she could give at this moment. Northerners... they kept to themselves. His question was friendly but it was understandable for her not to answer it. At least she thought so.
Examples of other OCs (will not be used):
Vampire example:
"Are ye afraid of death?"
The Irish woman's voice was strikingly feminine but authoritative, so much so that the male whose neck she had a grip on immediately squeaked back a yes. The woman pushed him harder into the tree trunk she'd been hold him up against, taking pleasure in seeing him fight for air. He was a hunter camping out - at least she'd assumed he was - and he had picked the wrong forest tonight. She had seemed so deceptively human, a beautiful young woman who had gotten lost. She couldn't blame him for trying to help her... but that wouldn't save him.
A smile began to form on her lips and she slowly lowered him to the ground, crimson red eyes never once straying from his as she spoke the last words he'd ever hear, "Then ye'll run."
She didn't have to tell him twice. The man took off north, in the direction of her home, without bothering to look back. Straying behind for a few moments, the women took interest in her claws and the diamond that adorned her ring finger. Just a few more moments and he would be far enough away that it would be somewhat fun to kill him. She'd gone for easy targets all week and she wanted a challenge.
"Ready or not, here I come," she whispered, disappearing from the spot she'd been standing as if the wind had picked her up and carried her away.
She had him down in seconds, as if she had never let him go at all, the last of his blood dripping from the wound on his neck. When he was found - if he was found - there was no doubt it would be called an animal attack. No one would dare call it exactly what it was - at least not if they were smart.
The woman stood and began to walk, running her tongue over her upper lip one last time to make sure she got the last of the blood. The house was close enough - if the man had made it far enough then someone else would have snatched him up.
Straightening her leather jacket, she approached the winding driveway, not bothering to pick up speed in favour of the long walk.
"Ellis!" Her head snapped up and she nodded to Seamus, one of their lieutenants. She made no move to acknowledge the man with him, however, opting to wait until he introduced himself in the meeting.
After she'd entered the house, the guest turned to Seamus, "Who was that? I- I mean she's a little intimidating, but Jesus, certainly someone like that couldn't be one of us."
"Ellis O'Hanlon," Seamus said, smirking as he turned towards the house, "Sullivan's wife, although not really in the traditional churchy sense. No priest or paperwork involved. Nothing holy about it. I would be careful about calling 'er 'is wife though. Thinks it implies she's 'is property, and she'll rip yer 'ead off for it. I am a bit surprised ye've never heard of 'er though..."
Ellis smirked when she heard Seamus give the newcomer the warning. However, she and Sullivan weren't so much married as they had made each other a promise. It had been just the two of them - they wouldn't have had it any other way - and she had, of course, taken his last name. It was not as human as it sounded... The two of them were still beasts, but he was her weakness - even if she refused to say it aloud.
"Another thing, lad," Seamus said as he entered through the front door, "Show a little respect. These are not the vamps ye want to be pissin' off... Sullivan's got a thing for goin' for the gut, and eyein' Ellis like ye did out there could get ye disemboweled."
Ellis laughed outright at the last part as she entered their meeting room. Sullivan probably wouldn't go so far as to do that, but hey, scaring the kid was probably a bit fun for Seamus. Despite everything, however, she could tell from the start that she couldn't trust this kid - something about the way that there were hardly any traces of human blood on his skin and what was on his skin was old, as if it had come from a blood bag. Still human blood but it was suspicious - she'd yet to meet vampire who worked for them that didn't drink from the living. That and... well, he was no Darcy.
It had been almost a week since Darcy, their strongest lieutenant under Vida, was murdered, and it was a death that she was still dealing with. She'd hunted so much in the past week that she was certain her eyes would stay a permanent crimson color. He'd died saving her from the stake, something that she'd rip him apart for if he was still here. She was fast enough - strong enough - and she had survived plenty of stakes before. She could have done it again... He didn't need to die for it.
Taking her place at one end of the table, Ellis sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd been distant from Sullivan for the past week, she knew, but this type of anger was new to her. After they'd killed him, she'd slaughtered the three slayers who'd done it, returning home later, covered in blood and bearing the bad news. Darcy had been a trusted companion and there were very few people she trusted, but it was still almost pathetic how much she cared. Now though... Now she finally felt ready to tell Sullivan about that night.
"The meeting was supposed to be at 12 AM. It is now..." Ellis said loud enough for anyone partaking in the meeting to hear, checking her watch before continuing, "... It is now 12:03. Ye know I don't like to be kept waiting."
The Irish woman's voice was strikingly feminine but authoritative, so much so that the male whose neck she had a grip on immediately squeaked back a yes. The woman pushed him harder into the tree trunk she'd been hold him up against, taking pleasure in seeing him fight for air. He was a hunter camping out - at least she'd assumed he was - and he had picked the wrong forest tonight. She had seemed so deceptively human, a beautiful young woman who had gotten lost. She couldn't blame him for trying to help her... but that wouldn't save him.
A smile began to form on her lips and she slowly lowered him to the ground, crimson red eyes never once straying from his as she spoke the last words he'd ever hear, "Then ye'll run."
She didn't have to tell him twice. The man took off north, in the direction of her home, without bothering to look back. Straying behind for a few moments, the women took interest in her claws and the diamond that adorned her ring finger. Just a few more moments and he would be far enough away that it would be somewhat fun to kill him. She'd gone for easy targets all week and she wanted a challenge.
"Ready or not, here I come," she whispered, disappearing from the spot she'd been standing as if the wind had picked her up and carried her away.
She had him down in seconds, as if she had never let him go at all, the last of his blood dripping from the wound on his neck. When he was found - if he was found - there was no doubt it would be called an animal attack. No one would dare call it exactly what it was - at least not if they were smart.
The woman stood and began to walk, running her tongue over her upper lip one last time to make sure she got the last of the blood. The house was close enough - if the man had made it far enough then someone else would have snatched him up.
Straightening her leather jacket, she approached the winding driveway, not bothering to pick up speed in favour of the long walk.
"Ellis!" Her head snapped up and she nodded to Seamus, one of their lieutenants. She made no move to acknowledge the man with him, however, opting to wait until he introduced himself in the meeting.
After she'd entered the house, the guest turned to Seamus, "Who was that? I- I mean she's a little intimidating, but Jesus, certainly someone like that couldn't be one of us."
"Ellis O'Hanlon," Seamus said, smirking as he turned towards the house, "Sullivan's wife, although not really in the traditional churchy sense. No priest or paperwork involved. Nothing holy about it. I would be careful about calling 'er 'is wife though. Thinks it implies she's 'is property, and she'll rip yer 'ead off for it. I am a bit surprised ye've never heard of 'er though..."
Ellis smirked when she heard Seamus give the newcomer the warning. However, she and Sullivan weren't so much married as they had made each other a promise. It had been just the two of them - they wouldn't have had it any other way - and she had, of course, taken his last name. It was not as human as it sounded... The two of them were still beasts, but he was her weakness - even if she refused to say it aloud.
"Another thing, lad," Seamus said as he entered through the front door, "Show a little respect. These are not the vamps ye want to be pissin' off... Sullivan's got a thing for goin' for the gut, and eyein' Ellis like ye did out there could get ye disemboweled."
Ellis laughed outright at the last part as she entered their meeting room. Sullivan probably wouldn't go so far as to do that, but hey, scaring the kid was probably a bit fun for Seamus. Despite everything, however, she could tell from the start that she couldn't trust this kid - something about the way that there were hardly any traces of human blood on his skin and what was on his skin was old, as if it had come from a blood bag. Still human blood but it was suspicious - she'd yet to meet vampire who worked for them that didn't drink from the living. That and... well, he was no Darcy.
It had been almost a week since Darcy, their strongest lieutenant under Vida, was murdered, and it was a death that she was still dealing with. She'd hunted so much in the past week that she was certain her eyes would stay a permanent crimson color. He'd died saving her from the stake, something that she'd rip him apart for if he was still here. She was fast enough - strong enough - and she had survived plenty of stakes before. She could have done it again... He didn't need to die for it.
Taking her place at one end of the table, Ellis sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd been distant from Sullivan for the past week, she knew, but this type of anger was new to her. After they'd killed him, she'd slaughtered the three slayers who'd done it, returning home later, covered in blood and bearing the bad news. Darcy had been a trusted companion and there were very few people she trusted, but it was still almost pathetic how much she cared. Now though... Now she finally felt ready to tell Sullivan about that night.
"The meeting was supposed to be at 12 AM. It is now..." Ellis said loud enough for anyone partaking in the meeting to hear, checking her watch before continuing, "... It is now 12:03. Ye know I don't like to be kept waiting."
Mafia Example:
Anna placed a hand on the gun in her coat pocket as she opened the door to her home. She had guards, sure, but one could never be too safe. She lived in the city – someone could take her out the second she crossed the threshold. Locking the door behind her, she turned and headed to her car. A familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks, “Been waitin’ for you to come out. ”
She turned and, just as she’d expected, it was a street kid nicknamed Hot Head. It suited him – he had a shock of red hair. No one was quite sure who he worked for but he was quick with his fists and knew a lot of people. Her guards took a step toward the man but didn’t take their weapons out. Anna had been taken in for questioning yesterday – they didn’t want to draw any more attention to her.
“Yeah? What for?” Anna asked, sizing him up. His hands were at his sides, which was a good sign, but she kept her own hand on the loaded pistol in her pocket just in case. It was a small gun – mainly for self defense – but it did the job as well as any other. The rest of her weapons were inside in two large safes – including a few from the shipment her men had smuggled in. But this gun was by far her favourite.
The grip on her gun tightened when he reached into his jacket and pulled out a newspaper. He pointed to the headline and laughed, “Reed taken in, released after a few hours… Extortion, eh? How’d you manage to get outta that one? Use the ‘I got a kid’ card?”
Anna laughed and shook her head, “I don’t have time for this, hot head. I got taken in, they didn’t have anything on me. End of story. My boy has nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, your boy…” His voice trailed off and he looked away. After a moment, he scratched the back of his head and turned his attention back to her, grinning, “He’s four, ain’t he? You better keep him safe, Anna. Never know who’ll try to get to you through him.”
Her eyes flashed and Anna took a step toward him. Hot head, she knew, had killed children before and it infuriated her. This was different. This was her boy – her four-year-old boy whose very existence brightened her dark world - and this asshole was threatening him. Joey was safe at school at the moment but just the thought of him getting hurt made her heart drop. Pointing her finger at him, her other hand still on the gun, she spoke, “You are playing with fire.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve played with fire.” His smile widened for a split second before he took off down the street. She watched him go, trying to keep herself from shooting at him right there.
Not the first time I’ve played with fire. She knew exactly what he meant – a year ago someone had set her old house on fire. She’d managed to grab her son and get out safely. The fire had prompted her boss to put her in a house in the city with tons of guards. They try to set this one on fire, they bring down the whole neighbourhood and she knew they wouldn’t risk that. They hadn’t stopped at the fire, however – they’d riddled her empty car with bullets and killed one of her guards.
Anna took a deep breath and turned back to the car, slamming the door hard behind her once inside. The driver glanced back at her, knowing not to ask any questions right then, and pulled out of the parking space. People were trying harder to get at her – but they never would. Dying was never an option.
He drove her down to one of the five bars she owned. This one was struggling a bit because of the location but she was determined to get it up off the ground. She walked in and leaned against the bar, smiling to the bartender, and looked around, “So I see we cleaned the place up a bit yeah?”
She turned and, just as she’d expected, it was a street kid nicknamed Hot Head. It suited him – he had a shock of red hair. No one was quite sure who he worked for but he was quick with his fists and knew a lot of people. Her guards took a step toward the man but didn’t take their weapons out. Anna had been taken in for questioning yesterday – they didn’t want to draw any more attention to her.
“Yeah? What for?” Anna asked, sizing him up. His hands were at his sides, which was a good sign, but she kept her own hand on the loaded pistol in her pocket just in case. It was a small gun – mainly for self defense – but it did the job as well as any other. The rest of her weapons were inside in two large safes – including a few from the shipment her men had smuggled in. But this gun was by far her favourite.
The grip on her gun tightened when he reached into his jacket and pulled out a newspaper. He pointed to the headline and laughed, “Reed taken in, released after a few hours… Extortion, eh? How’d you manage to get outta that one? Use the ‘I got a kid’ card?”
Anna laughed and shook her head, “I don’t have time for this, hot head. I got taken in, they didn’t have anything on me. End of story. My boy has nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, your boy…” His voice trailed off and he looked away. After a moment, he scratched the back of his head and turned his attention back to her, grinning, “He’s four, ain’t he? You better keep him safe, Anna. Never know who’ll try to get to you through him.”
Her eyes flashed and Anna took a step toward him. Hot head, she knew, had killed children before and it infuriated her. This was different. This was her boy – her four-year-old boy whose very existence brightened her dark world - and this asshole was threatening him. Joey was safe at school at the moment but just the thought of him getting hurt made her heart drop. Pointing her finger at him, her other hand still on the gun, she spoke, “You are playing with fire.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve played with fire.” His smile widened for a split second before he took off down the street. She watched him go, trying to keep herself from shooting at him right there.
Not the first time I’ve played with fire. She knew exactly what he meant – a year ago someone had set her old house on fire. She’d managed to grab her son and get out safely. The fire had prompted her boss to put her in a house in the city with tons of guards. They try to set this one on fire, they bring down the whole neighbourhood and she knew they wouldn’t risk that. They hadn’t stopped at the fire, however – they’d riddled her empty car with bullets and killed one of her guards.
Anna took a deep breath and turned back to the car, slamming the door hard behind her once inside. The driver glanced back at her, knowing not to ask any questions right then, and pulled out of the parking space. People were trying harder to get at her – but they never would. Dying was never an option.
He drove her down to one of the five bars she owned. This one was struggling a bit because of the location but she was determined to get it up off the ground. She walked in and leaned against the bar, smiling to the bartender, and looked around, “So I see we cleaned the place up a bit yeah?”
Death scene I wrote for a favourite character:
Isolde and Skarsgaard had known from the moment she started showing that their child would be exceptional. As a non-mage, the child’s potential radiated through her with bits of evidence here and there of magical energy coursing through her bloodstream. The product of a powerful mage and skilled warrior woman, the baby would without a doubt inherit the best parts of both of them.
For some time, Isolde had been excited by this, assuming that this was the reason for her weakened state and constant exhaustion. Soon, however, it became clear that something was wrong. Even so, she assured her husband that everything was alright - even as she set up a secret meeting with Olaf and a few other Dardeheim to learn the truth.
Isolde was aware that Olaf knew more than he would ever let on, always going on about fate and its cruelty, but a part of her had always been afraid to confront it. It was not until this meeting, when Skarsgaard was spending a day away to gather supplies for their home, that she learned of her fate. She was the product of the love shared between Sigfost and Freyja, cast down to Earth with a curse upon her blood by a vengeful god. There were stories that had foretold this… A war amongst the gods, a cursed child and her ill-fated bloodline, but Olaf knew of fate’s cruelty. There were some things that could not be stopped and he made no effort to try. After the birth of her child, she would die… and the same would happen to all future generations.
It was cruel indeed, and she was unsure of how she had kept it from her husband for so long - she just knew that she had to. If he knew of her fate, he would try to stop it. She didn’t want to risk the life of her child or her husband’s sanity during the last few months that they had together. Of course, he had sensed a few times that something was off but he never came close to the truth. Her death was something that he hadn’t considered, not after how happy they had been. She wanted desperately to keep that happiness.
—
“You have a son.”
With tears streaming down her face, Isolde reached for him. The midwife was slow to clean him, something that was increasing her impatience. There was not enough time for this. “Give him to me,” she demanded, her breathing laboured.
Skarsgaard and his mother were on either side of her, both crying along with her but for different reasons. They were happy and she was going to tear that from them. She had asked Sigrun to stay with them for a bit under the guise of needing help through the first few weeks of motherhood. Really, she had asked for her husband’s sake. After her death, she knew that he would be broken - their love seemed stronger than the great white beast itself. To be torn from each other so soon… It was not fair.
As her son was placed in her arms, she let her tears stream freely. “He is… so beautiful,” she said, smiling sadly at their son who was swaddled tightly in a blanket. He was perfect, a mix of two people whose love had not lived long enough. She could not bear all of the love and the pain that she was feeling right now. How was she to leave her heart and soul? It was to happen though, and she could feel herself gradually weakening, her breathing a clear indication of that from any observer.
Skarsgaard tore his gaze away from their son to look to her, concern written all over his furrowed brow. “Are you alright?” he asked, though it was clear by now that she was not. The midwife, also a bit concerned, moved to her. There was no excessive bleeding, nothing outwardly wrong with her, but this was definitely not right.
As she reached for the child, Isolde shook her head. “No… No, I need… to hold him. May I… have a moment with my husband… please?”
“Isolde-“
“Skarsgaard, please…”
Sigrun was reluctant at first but this was different. It was the sound in Isolde’s voice when she said it, as if she knew what was happening and that there was nothing the others could do. Slowly, despite the heartbreaking look of panic on her son’s face, she moved from the room with the midwife.
Once they had gone, Isolde looked to her love. She placed one hand softly against the side of his face, the other hooked around their son as she held him close. Her eyes met his and refused to stray away, even for a moment. Skarsgaard kept his gaze locked to hers, and placed his hand over hers. He spoke softly, though the words were more urgent, “Let us help you.”
The sound of his voice broke her heart, and the guilt of not telling him the truth for so many months finally settled over her. “It is my time… I went to Olaf and the Dardeheim, they told me of my fate-“
“They are wrong,” he said, unable to control his own tears.
“Skarsgaard, it is my time,” she said, trying to keep her composure, keep strong for him, though her heart was breaking. The rest of her was slowly shutting down, she could feel it. Fate was at least merciful enough to give them enough time for a goodbye. Despite her laboured breathing and the tears still streaming down her face, she continued, “I am… the daughter… of Sigfost and Freyja… My blood is cursed, as the stories have told. He said… when my child is born, I will perish. The same will happen to our son, his son, and every generation after…”
“You should have told me, I could have stopped this. I still can, you just need to stay here with me,” said the voice of an already broken man - as if he didn’t believe his own words but was saying them anyway, trying to convince himself. She could feel magic coursing from his hand and into her own body, though it was of no use. He was conflicted, wanting to find a way to help her but not wanting to stray from her side for even a moment lest she leave while he was gone.
“You… our son. I love you both… more than anything in this world,” she said, looking back down to their child who was sleeping quietly in her arms.
“I love you too… Please, I will do whatever it takes. Tell me what to do,” he said desperately, placing his other hand against her skin, intensifying any magic he was already using. He was trying with all his might to keep her alive. Unfortunately, magic had no say against fate.
The next words were painful but she had to say them even if she couldn’t withstand hearing them herself. “You tell him… you make sure he knows how much I love him. I did not want to leave him, but I had do… I did it so that he could live, and I would have done so much more than that for him. Be strong for him please… He needs you.”
Isolde could tell, from his tears, that he knew it was happening despite his efforts. With the last bit of strength, Isolde leaned down and pressed her lips against their son’s forehead, taking in the softness and newborn smell of his skin. It was strange how this tiny little human, who had not even been in this world for more than a few minutes, could already hold such a tight grip on her heart.
“I will,” he choked out, struggling to speak at all. It took a few moments but Isolde finally looked to her husband once more.
“Our son… his son… Be there for them when they have children, when they go… Promise me.” Her breathing was slowing more and more as the seconds passed, her eyes fighting against fate to stay open.
“I promise you.” Skarsgaard leaned in and kissed her, their last kiss, though he was still not entirely convinced that was true. The shock was not allowing it. This could not be the end of their story together - it was not possible. Not so soon.
Her voice was merely a whisper now. “You will… be a wonderful father… Never forget how much I love you.”
As her breathing slowed, Skarsgaard tried desperately once more to magically aid a miraculous recovery. Days, weeks, months ago, they were in bliss. Their love could not be torn apart - not by assassins, southern fighters, or even the winds of the North.
One final breath and he waited, grip on her hand intensifying as he waited for another to come. There was nothing. Her grip on their son had loosened a bit but he was still sleeping snugly against his mother, unaware yet of the world and the cruel fate that he too would face once he was older.
—
From the other room, Sigrun cried softly into her hand as she heard her son crying, pleading for his love to return. She had heard everything and she could understand why Isolde had not wanted to tell Skarsgaard. A mother’s love - it was powerful. If her death meant that her son would live, then she would do it ten times over.
The midwife, crying though she did her best not to show it, spoke up, “Fate is the cruelest element of the North. It will give you everything that you want… and then take it away without a second thought.”
Nodding, Sigrun returned to the room, though unaware of whether that was the right choice at this time. Even so, she stood behind her son and placed a hand on his shoulder. Touching Isolde, taking the child from her arms… It was the wrong time for that. Her son would do it when the time was right. Gazing upon the woman his son loved, she realised how clear it had been the entire time that she was the daughter of a god. It took a moment, but Sigrun finally opened her mouth to speak, unsure of the right words to make her son feel any better and realising soon that there were none.
“Her legacy will live on,” came Skarsgaard’s voice, cutting through the silence like the blade his wife had wielded in battle. “I will make sure of it.”
For some time, Isolde had been excited by this, assuming that this was the reason for her weakened state and constant exhaustion. Soon, however, it became clear that something was wrong. Even so, she assured her husband that everything was alright - even as she set up a secret meeting with Olaf and a few other Dardeheim to learn the truth.
Isolde was aware that Olaf knew more than he would ever let on, always going on about fate and its cruelty, but a part of her had always been afraid to confront it. It was not until this meeting, when Skarsgaard was spending a day away to gather supplies for their home, that she learned of her fate. She was the product of the love shared between Sigfost and Freyja, cast down to Earth with a curse upon her blood by a vengeful god. There were stories that had foretold this… A war amongst the gods, a cursed child and her ill-fated bloodline, but Olaf knew of fate’s cruelty. There were some things that could not be stopped and he made no effort to try. After the birth of her child, she would die… and the same would happen to all future generations.
It was cruel indeed, and she was unsure of how she had kept it from her husband for so long - she just knew that she had to. If he knew of her fate, he would try to stop it. She didn’t want to risk the life of her child or her husband’s sanity during the last few months that they had together. Of course, he had sensed a few times that something was off but he never came close to the truth. Her death was something that he hadn’t considered, not after how happy they had been. She wanted desperately to keep that happiness.
—
“You have a son.”
With tears streaming down her face, Isolde reached for him. The midwife was slow to clean him, something that was increasing her impatience. There was not enough time for this. “Give him to me,” she demanded, her breathing laboured.
Skarsgaard and his mother were on either side of her, both crying along with her but for different reasons. They were happy and she was going to tear that from them. She had asked Sigrun to stay with them for a bit under the guise of needing help through the first few weeks of motherhood. Really, she had asked for her husband’s sake. After her death, she knew that he would be broken - their love seemed stronger than the great white beast itself. To be torn from each other so soon… It was not fair.
As her son was placed in her arms, she let her tears stream freely. “He is… so beautiful,” she said, smiling sadly at their son who was swaddled tightly in a blanket. He was perfect, a mix of two people whose love had not lived long enough. She could not bear all of the love and the pain that she was feeling right now. How was she to leave her heart and soul? It was to happen though, and she could feel herself gradually weakening, her breathing a clear indication of that from any observer.
Skarsgaard tore his gaze away from their son to look to her, concern written all over his furrowed brow. “Are you alright?” he asked, though it was clear by now that she was not. The midwife, also a bit concerned, moved to her. There was no excessive bleeding, nothing outwardly wrong with her, but this was definitely not right.
As she reached for the child, Isolde shook her head. “No… No, I need… to hold him. May I… have a moment with my husband… please?”
“Isolde-“
“Skarsgaard, please…”
Sigrun was reluctant at first but this was different. It was the sound in Isolde’s voice when she said it, as if she knew what was happening and that there was nothing the others could do. Slowly, despite the heartbreaking look of panic on her son’s face, she moved from the room with the midwife.
Once they had gone, Isolde looked to her love. She placed one hand softly against the side of his face, the other hooked around their son as she held him close. Her eyes met his and refused to stray away, even for a moment. Skarsgaard kept his gaze locked to hers, and placed his hand over hers. He spoke softly, though the words were more urgent, “Let us help you.”
The sound of his voice broke her heart, and the guilt of not telling him the truth for so many months finally settled over her. “It is my time… I went to Olaf and the Dardeheim, they told me of my fate-“
“They are wrong,” he said, unable to control his own tears.
“Skarsgaard, it is my time,” she said, trying to keep her composure, keep strong for him, though her heart was breaking. The rest of her was slowly shutting down, she could feel it. Fate was at least merciful enough to give them enough time for a goodbye. Despite her laboured breathing and the tears still streaming down her face, she continued, “I am… the daughter… of Sigfost and Freyja… My blood is cursed, as the stories have told. He said… when my child is born, I will perish. The same will happen to our son, his son, and every generation after…”
“You should have told me, I could have stopped this. I still can, you just need to stay here with me,” said the voice of an already broken man - as if he didn’t believe his own words but was saying them anyway, trying to convince himself. She could feel magic coursing from his hand and into her own body, though it was of no use. He was conflicted, wanting to find a way to help her but not wanting to stray from her side for even a moment lest she leave while he was gone.
“You… our son. I love you both… more than anything in this world,” she said, looking back down to their child who was sleeping quietly in her arms.
“I love you too… Please, I will do whatever it takes. Tell me what to do,” he said desperately, placing his other hand against her skin, intensifying any magic he was already using. He was trying with all his might to keep her alive. Unfortunately, magic had no say against fate.
The next words were painful but she had to say them even if she couldn’t withstand hearing them herself. “You tell him… you make sure he knows how much I love him. I did not want to leave him, but I had do… I did it so that he could live, and I would have done so much more than that for him. Be strong for him please… He needs you.”
Isolde could tell, from his tears, that he knew it was happening despite his efforts. With the last bit of strength, Isolde leaned down and pressed her lips against their son’s forehead, taking in the softness and newborn smell of his skin. It was strange how this tiny little human, who had not even been in this world for more than a few minutes, could already hold such a tight grip on her heart.
“I will,” he choked out, struggling to speak at all. It took a few moments but Isolde finally looked to her husband once more.
“Our son… his son… Be there for them when they have children, when they go… Promise me.” Her breathing was slowing more and more as the seconds passed, her eyes fighting against fate to stay open.
“I promise you.” Skarsgaard leaned in and kissed her, their last kiss, though he was still not entirely convinced that was true. The shock was not allowing it. This could not be the end of their story together - it was not possible. Not so soon.
Her voice was merely a whisper now. “You will… be a wonderful father… Never forget how much I love you.”
As her breathing slowed, Skarsgaard tried desperately once more to magically aid a miraculous recovery. Days, weeks, months ago, they were in bliss. Their love could not be torn apart - not by assassins, southern fighters, or even the winds of the North.
One final breath and he waited, grip on her hand intensifying as he waited for another to come. There was nothing. Her grip on their son had loosened a bit but he was still sleeping snugly against his mother, unaware yet of the world and the cruel fate that he too would face once he was older.
—
From the other room, Sigrun cried softly into her hand as she heard her son crying, pleading for his love to return. She had heard everything and she could understand why Isolde had not wanted to tell Skarsgaard. A mother’s love - it was powerful. If her death meant that her son would live, then she would do it ten times over.
The midwife, crying though she did her best not to show it, spoke up, “Fate is the cruelest element of the North. It will give you everything that you want… and then take it away without a second thought.”
Nodding, Sigrun returned to the room, though unaware of whether that was the right choice at this time. Even so, she stood behind her son and placed a hand on his shoulder. Touching Isolde, taking the child from her arms… It was the wrong time for that. Her son would do it when the time was right. Gazing upon the woman his son loved, she realised how clear it had been the entire time that she was the daughter of a god. It took a moment, but Sigrun finally opened her mouth to speak, unsure of the right words to make her son feel any better and realising soon that there were none.
“Her legacy will live on,” came Skarsgaard’s voice, cutting through the silence like the blade his wife had wielded in battle. “I will make sure of it.”
If you're interested PM or post! I'd like to see examples of yours as well to make sure we're compatible but it's not required. I'm also open to your plots and ideas.
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