Multiple Settings Seeking proficient wordsmith to write things with?

[Amunet]

Many moons have passed since I have tried my hand at good ol' RP. I have been a writer for over fifteen years and roleplaying for about the same. There are not many concepts/genres I haven't tried, so i'm pretty open. I am partial to Fantasy (DnD, GOT, LOTR etc) and Historical fictions. I consider myself a bit of a descriptive writer, so a fellow writer who appreciates that would be ideal.

There are a lot of concepts I would love to revisit, or I am open to whatever you may be looking to write. I'm down for brainstorming. Hit me up!

 

[Amunet]

Bump bump!

I am adding some samples of my writing down below and thread for a Historical Medieval RP i'm hoping to recruit for as well!

As a writer, I tend to play all sorts of characters, of all ages, both male and female. My writing styles tend to vary, I like to mirror my fellow writers to the best of my ability, but overall I am a fairly descriptive player.

Samples

Female:
The woman's dark doe-like gaze flickered and gleamed in the late afternoon light. The scorching heat waned across the Sonoran desert as dusk slowly approached, the sun bathing the town in a soft glow of crimson, orange, and yellow. She drank in the beauty with a deep breath, savoring the air in her lungs with a shallow smile. Tension churned in the streets while a group of men and women hustled to take care of the last remaining preparations. A company of ten ill-advised individuals were heading south towards Las Plavous - a large settlement on the borders of Mexico - with a dire hope of starting anew. It was a fool's errand. She did well to hide the amusement that pulled at her ample lips. Her husband, a deputy known as Teague Burrows and two other lawmen, had been bold enough to volunteer as escorts for the party. Any other wife might have despaired at the prospect of loosing their beloved to the savage perils of the land, but not Valerie. The abusive, loathsome and moronic drunk would not be missed from her bed. Teague's exterior was no saving grace for the ugliness that festered beneath his handsome mask. To her, he was a putrid egg - a pretty shell with a rotten, rancid core.

"Val!" Teague's brusque call stole her attention and stiffened her legs. She rushed to his side diligently to his side, her raven braids swinging behind her. A few people glanced their way, but no eyes idled upon them. A marriage between a white man and heathen wasn't uncommon. "I left my duster and rifle at the office - go get it!" The command had been bitter and gruff, but she paid it no mind. He would get his. Without a word, the doe smiled at him skipped off in an elegant, soundless gait.

Male:
A haze of indigo and firelight veiled the cobble veins of the Ghetto Nuovo, dimming with the eventide. The sun sunk beneath a horizon of ivory edifices, yielding to the reign of a gibbous moon pitched high on a ebony canvas. The city took a new resolve, welcoming those of the taint. Cannaregio had not been the entirely benevolent to her patrons as of late; the district's canals festered with malcontent and whispers of murder. The romani had ears forged for such hushed hearsay; it was a rare circumstance when rumors slithered about and he not notice. The latest of scandals had been a morsel of particular intrigue. This city and all her charades enticed him to no end; it was like fresh blood pumping through him. The minute sunlight faded from the ghetto, Khazhak could be seen making swift strides after a dark character drawing up the hood of a wool overcoat.

"Aspettare! Signore! Per favore, aspertta!" Khazak called after him with urgency. His pace was bridled, he could have caught up instantly if he wanted to, but he enjoyed the chase. When the man quickened his steps, bordering on a bolt, he laughed. "I NEED you, there is no other Marco! Please!" Khaz called again. People with any sense would avoid him to, just by the way he gallivanted around in a heavy raven fur-coat in mid summer, plaid slacks shredded and patched, and an obscene amount of silver jewelry hanging off him every which way. And his gaze - the romani brandished a pair of azure eyes that smoldered eerily in every light. He was like billboard for lunacy. "Signore!"

Canon (Final Fantasy VII):

"I remember us treading upon the Planet's parched skin, cracked and split beneath the morning sun. The dust lashed at my eyes and my nose, swept up by my father's leaps and bounds, and my legs pumped to keep up with his mighty strides. He jumped from ridge to cleft, until reaching the final lip of the gorge, and we followed in our silent apprehension, reaching the top a few moments after. The earth opened up to a vivid clear sky, alive with ivory birds streaking across the canvas, and below a metal kingdom frozen in a cradle of lush green and woodland, a sea of trees choking out what remained. My father craned up his neck, his mane and feathers dancing in the wind, and he unleashed a mighty roar to the world beyond. I had never seen him so proud and powerful, and I nearly shyed away in the presence of his might. But your grandfather, Sepik, had a voice not unlike your own - gentle, soft...wise. He told us of a era long gone; of legends and heros, maidens and tragedies - of what was, and what was to come. Did you know, my daughter, that at one time man thrived? That they ruled over land and beast? Ocean, forest - even the blood that courses beneath our very feet? That at one time, they committed such great sin...ravaged our sweet Mother, and wielded her powers of the lifestream? Our planet brushed with death due to their crimes- and she shall do so again. Grandfather had a duty to someone, you see, and they met every fifty years - for what, he never did say. It was your uncle who suceeded father's sojorun to Midgar, and he is gone, as I will be soon. Do not weep for me, my sweet Sepik - I have lived a century too long, I am going back to the Mother, but I remain with you through her. Another fifty year mark approaches, and you must go in my stead. Go to Midgar, Sepik - arrive on the next fullmoon, and wait for this man. You will not know him, but he will know you."

It was always the same; a vision of her father's chest flooding with one final breath, then falling with a soft exhale. The flame on the end of his tail softly flickering out. The light leaving his eyes. She would howl to the night, the moon her only companion. She would fall asleep to her own lament, curled up to the stiff body of her father, Nanaki. When dawn would creep upon along the horizon the next day , dousing the valley in a soft light of violet and crimson, she would do her duty and set his corpse aflame, watching his ashes scatter to the wind. She would silently promise to leave the home of her ancestors. She would leave Cosmo Canyon. She would leave to find a 'man' she had never seen....to carry out a duty she did not know.