Salutations. Have a summary, will you?
Name:
Sham's the net-name.
Gender:
Female; but this doesn't affect what gender I play.
Age:
14. The only limit that is affected by this is the extent of romance.
Roleplay Flaws:
- I rarely use Gaia for my roleplay searches; I'm typically a strict forum and Neo writer, so if we stay on Gaia for the roleplay, there's a slight chance I'll forget to check back here every single day. Also, being foreign to the Gaian set-up, I don't know which words the Gaian rules don't allow.
- My characters tend to be shallow and slightly cliche`; I apologise for the lack of originality in this area.
- My muse, on occasion, is a complete and utter b-pain-itch. This won't happen if I love the roleplay we're doing, but if I don't reply for a few days, this is the reason why.
Roleplay Sample:
It had infected like the black plague ugly mountains of civilisation, spewing thick, greasy fumes that smothered nature’s sparkly freckles as her frozen nightlight drowned in a sea of blackened clouds. Pollution spread as oil spills in the ocean, coating huge, cumulous penguins with ink; the heavens weep acid rain, giving birth to millions of tiny black mushrooms as the consumerist population would buy an increasing amount of umbrellas to hide from their particular brand of Frankenstein. The modern society brushes black cosmetics over their sky now, and the stars are no longer stars; huge burning balls of carbon and hydrogen and iron that float and sink and drown in the huge ocean we deny to be so insignificant within.
Humanity is a contradiction. Compassion, altruism- they’re all more illusions, the concept of an idea that is just as false as the freedom that they constantly profess to provide. People didn’t notice when someone dropped off the face of the planet now, the bodies merely disappeared into the thousands of alleys that made up this world of stone without a care… and where was the fun in that? The 17th century was far better, she believed. The witch-hunts had passion, even if they were just a lost cause. There were no witches. There was something of a far darker persuasion.
The glass should have misted when her pale hand pressed itself against the window, the warmth leaching from her fingertips. Instead it left only smudged fingerprints as she slid her hand down the stained glass, not bothering to shake away the tiny snowflakes scattered across her pale skin. The neon sign blinked at her, the seductive lilt of the blue glow reached out tantalizingly from the door. Where else would she be but outside the famed Enigma? The mindless, heavy metal music filtered through the door as it swung open and closed, people slowly filing their way into another night of drunken dancing and laughter, wasting their money on the rigged lottery machines.
Dark strands of hair whipped across her face, painting a curse across frozen lips as she tucked it back into the thick hood that covered her ears. She was almost tempted to join them, to throw sanity to the wind and join the press of bodies in the suffocating atmosphere.
Such a person as Lolitia Marcielle was certainly above that; only the young, the naïve, and the lost needed such a place. A predatory smile grew as she stared at the window, and remembering that alcohol in the bloodstream ruined the taste. It was rather annoying, come to think about it. Her eyes darkened, iris and pupil melding. Many things were annoying her of present. The clans grieved as one with the loss of the first elders, a series of murders that should never have taken place. What had driven them to such an act? Again, as one, the clans had fallen upon the murderers, wiping their mocking faces from sight. Perhaps a few had survived the slaughter, but they stayed low, only to resurface when their treachery had been forgotten. And like a pack of wolves, the clans had then fallen upon each other, rending and tearing to become the dominant clan. Nobody was here to keep the peace between the fragile treaties, alliances built upon sand. Rather than sink, they had shattered.
The neon sign blinked out, bringing the vampire out of her dark thoughts. Humans brushed past her, too caught up in their own insignificant lives to pay attention to the world around them. A flash in the storm, a single heartbeat and they were gone, dust in the wind. What did they know about anything? Nothing, nothing at all. They were meals on wheels, and they served their purpose well.
Her high heels slowly became buried underneath the dirty snow, her mind picking up and discarding strategies on how to best survive the newest extermination process. The witch-hunt had been interesting, but times change, and the wheels turn.
Still here? That's good to know. As you may have noticed by the lack of genres so far, you're free to make any suggestions. The first list below is what I'm craving, in order from most to least. After that, it's just a matter of the asterix's. If the messed up code doesn't mean much to you, refer to the legend underneath it all.
Cravings:
1. Redwall {&}
2. Genetic-Engineering {&}
3. Vampire {&.&}
4. Realistic Wolf {&}
5. Apocalyptic Events {&.&}
The Rest:
CotR {***}
Pirate {***}
Medieval Fantasy {*---}
Modern Fantasy {**---}
Parasitic-box, pre-apocalypse {*****: <3}
Immediate Refusal:
-High school
-Family
-Kindergarten
-Beach
-Plane crash on island-like things
-Road Trips
-Band
-Most anime
Legend:
*- These pretty obviously indicate my motivation.
&- The number of plots I have.
--- You'll need a plot to convince me on this.
<3 - Self explanatory.
Feel free to suggest, naow. ^_^ This'll be added to and adjusted as my interests change.
