Post by macey on Oct 3, 2010 14:33:30 GMT -5
travis devon mars
character basics
I WANNA DARKEN IN THE SKIES, OPEN THE FLOODGATES UP.
I WANT TO CHANGE MY MIND, I WANT TO BE ENOUGH.
I WANNA DARKEN IN THE SKIES, OPEN THE FLOODGATES UP.
I WANT TO CHANGE MY MIND, I WANT TO BE ENOUGH.
FULL NAME , travis devon mars
NICKNAMES , trav
AGE , twenty three
BIRTHDAY , november 16
SEXUALITY , bisexual
GRADE , none
OCCUPATION , high school teacher
MEMBER GROUP , townie
hello, my name is macey. i am nineteen years young and i consider myself a(n) intermediate/advanced roleplayer. i found this site through counting the stars. so, here's an example of my average post:
this man intrigued her. he sat there in silence just as she did. he didn't press the matter any more than what most people would. most people hate silence, but this man didn't seem to mind it. elisa let her eyes scan over the man again, but then she looked away and stared at the glass that was behind him. she knew that it was a two way mirror, and it made her wonder who was back there. the woman that had just been in there? maybe. she tilted her head just a little, and looked back at the man that just introduced himself. jason. that was all that he gave her, and she respected that. she wasn't interested in his last name, at least not at the moment. for all she knew, he was protecting himself from her by not giving his last name. if she wanted to, if he had given her his last name, she could have looked him up in the phone book. that was the dangers of phone books. or the internet.
"elisa." she presented him her first name, even if he already knew what it was. she felt the need to for some reason. did she...respect him? it usually took more than a few minutes with some one for her to respect them. she winced when she moved her arms, the handcuffs leaving itchy rashes. she reached over with her left hand and scratched her right arm where the handcuffs were. she winced slightly, but not from pain. no, she winced because she had briefly seen the scars on her arms that she had cut when she was younger. what no one knew was that she had been molested by a man when she was thirteen, but that hadn't changed her to the point where she caved inward. no, she had turned to external punishment, if you may. she had longed to feel the pain that she had felt with the man, and cutting was what she could find at the time. she still had small, defined scars, but she didn't care enough about them to cover them up.
jason mentioned the photos, and her eyes snapped back up at the pictures. the one on the right side was a man with cut achilles tendons, a wound in the right arm, and the bite mark on the back. she remembered having bit down hard enough to draw blood. then she turned her attention back to the photo in the middle. another man, but this one didn't have both his achilles cut. elisa briefly remembered this one. she had wanted to see how long he would wander around the house with just one cut. he had bled out slower, she had been less merciful. and then the one on the left was a little older for the men that she normally picked, but she had been attracted to him. his photo showed barely anything. no, his photo only showed his face, the way he had been screaming. a twitch of fury ran through her. her work had been focused on just his face? how dare they.
she just shrugged her shoulders, quickly putting her face mask back on and leaned back into the chair again. "precise." she said, pointing at the smooth cuts on the achilles. "angry." she muttered, starting to feel her facade slip away. "longing." she said, motioning toward the semen in the photos. "pathetic." she choked out, clearing her throat, and pointing at the achilles again. "only a coward wouldn't let some one run." she tilted her head a little glanced at the right photo. "aggression." she whispered, pointing out the bite mark on his back. "they don't do anything with the body afterward, so maybe they are disgusted with their work. maybe they're afraid to see what they've become." she said, tilted her head the other way and studying the photos again.
"elisa." she presented him her first name, even if he already knew what it was. she felt the need to for some reason. did she...respect him? it usually took more than a few minutes with some one for her to respect them. she winced when she moved her arms, the handcuffs leaving itchy rashes. she reached over with her left hand and scratched her right arm where the handcuffs were. she winced slightly, but not from pain. no, she winced because she had briefly seen the scars on her arms that she had cut when she was younger. what no one knew was that she had been molested by a man when she was thirteen, but that hadn't changed her to the point where she caved inward. no, she had turned to external punishment, if you may. she had longed to feel the pain that she had felt with the man, and cutting was what she could find at the time. she still had small, defined scars, but she didn't care enough about them to cover them up.
jason mentioned the photos, and her eyes snapped back up at the pictures. the one on the right side was a man with cut achilles tendons, a wound in the right arm, and the bite mark on the back. she remembered having bit down hard enough to draw blood. then she turned her attention back to the photo in the middle. another man, but this one didn't have both his achilles cut. elisa briefly remembered this one. she had wanted to see how long he would wander around the house with just one cut. he had bled out slower, she had been less merciful. and then the one on the left was a little older for the men that she normally picked, but she had been attracted to him. his photo showed barely anything. no, his photo only showed his face, the way he had been screaming. a twitch of fury ran through her. her work had been focused on just his face? how dare they.
she just shrugged her shoulders, quickly putting her face mask back on and leaned back into the chair again. "precise." she said, pointing at the smooth cuts on the achilles. "angry." she muttered, starting to feel her facade slip away. "longing." she said, motioning toward the semen in the photos. "pathetic." she choked out, clearing her throat, and pointing at the achilles again. "only a coward wouldn't let some one run." she tilted her head a little glanced at the right photo. "aggression." she whispered, pointing out the bite mark on his back. "they don't do anything with the body afterward, so maybe they are disgusted with their work. maybe they're afraid to see what they've become." she said, tilted her head the other way and studying the photos again.