Places to Chat
Dreams RPWe
Chatterbox: Inkwell
Dreams RPWe
Dreams RP
We are always told not to believe in the things that come into our heads at night. Visions. Dreams. Nighmares. But sometimes, even the unlikliest of things are true. Like a land beyond the world we stand on, where anything thinkable is possible— People grow wings, animals can talk, the world can be broken and repaired in two minutes.
This is a place of dreams, where we drift when we sleep. Where they come true— And where nightmares do too. In and out. You can always wake up, escape from it.
Except.
Now, there's something strange. A prophecy. Seven people have a series of recurring dreams, each one stretching longer and longer into their lives until they are trapped inside their own minds, thought to be insane in the Real World. The prophecy must be fufilled, or else there is no hope to ever get back.
Seven fish, caught
Unseen hands shall break the fall
All ropes twist inside out
The sky unfolds on the day of the Escaping
Hey guys! I haven't hosted or been in a RP for a while, so here's this! So, six people besides me can join. We will be the Seven mentioned in the above intro. ^ I hope this RP doesn't die (coughlikeallmyotheronescough), and I think I can be more faithful in the posting now that it's summer and I have fewer obligations! A couple things before the charrie sheet.
1. I would like some variation in the genders, not only female characters. (This makes things more interesting and realistic.)
2. I'm going to leave the plot slightly open, so that the story can unfold as we go. Help create the plot! Don't kind of just follow along pathetically, posting your characters opinions on what already happened, that kind of kills RPs.
3. No god modding, no OP charries. Typical RP fare.
4. If you can think of ways to incorperate a charrie without them being one of the 7, then
Presenting le charrie sheet!
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Appearance:
Backstory:
Other:
My character is as follows.
Name: Ophelia (O) Reinhart
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Personality: Firey, determined. Loyal once you earn her trust (which is difficult). She will do what is nessecary to get her means, but often the line between what works and what's right confuses her. Jumps to conclusions a lot, but is not a daredevil. When she does things she makes a plan and does it right.
Appearance: Straight black hair that just skims the small of her back. It is usually pulled back into a ponytail. High cheekbones, sparkling dark almond eyes, and tanned skin. O is relatively tall, and of average build.
Backstory: O lives with her mom and little brother in an apartment in New York City. Her parents are divorced and her dad is in Wisconsin running a resteraunt. O goes to a private high school on a scholarship (her family would not be able to pay for tuition) where she has few friends. She has a dog named Sherlock.
submitted by Abigail S., age 12, Nose in a Book
(August 7, 2016 - 8:11 pm)
(August 7, 2016 - 8:11 pm)
My post will probably be shorter than everyone else's, sorry!
Tanya~
I cuddle up under my Steal your Face Blankets and fall asleep.
I'm falling down a hole. A very, very deep hole. I see a brown haired boy and a black haired girl as I fall. We stare at each other in shock.
Then, I hear a voice. A loud, screechy voice.
Seven fish, caught
Unseen hands shall break the fall
All ropes twist inside out
The sky unfolds in the day of the Escaping
The voice repeats it, while I just wish for it to STOP!
Finally, I fall to the ground and the voice shuts up. But, as I fell I put my hands out, and my wrists really hurt.
I wake up. That was all a dream, right? But, my wrists still hurt. Really, really badly.
(August 11, 2016 - 8:04 pm)
I run up the wall, giggling and laughing. Sharing a dream with someone my age is such fun...
Until all the laughter I hear is mine. She woke up.
It's a shame. We were having a lot of fun.
Oh well. There's still a lot of fun things to do.
I push off the wall and soar into the air, looking down at the city. Well, you actually couldn't call it looking down. The city is like an M.C. Escher painting. Whoever M.C. Escher is.
I know a lot about the real world, and I don't.
I know there's something called gravity, but I've never experienced it.
I don't know who Monty Python is, but I've heard of him.
Television is something I don't know a thing about.
Sometimes I wish I could be Real, just for a day and know what it's like...
And as I fly over the neon city, I know it's one of those times.
(August 12, 2016 - 10:13 am)
-lkki-
When she wakes up, lvalji is perched at the foot of her bed, staring at the ceiling. “Leo nearly burned down your house again.” She comments mildly.
“What?!” lkki sits up as if electrified. “You know Mama will kill me if she finds out! She threatened to lock me up last time!”
Ivalji shrugs.
“And if she locks me up, you two are coming along!”
“Do you think he’ll listen to that?”
“No.” lkki huffs, rolling off of her bed, onto the cold floor. She shivers. It’s very early mourning, and cold besides. Neither of her parents are awake yet, which is good. There’s a smell of smoke in the air, making her panic. Her mother did not make idle threats.
“Come on! We have to find him!”
Ivalji sighs, but follows after lkki, as she exits her room and pads down the hall of the modern, large house. Everything is shiny and smooth, all wood and glass and metal. lkki didn’t like it, it was too cold and strange.
More smoke gathers in the air, and lkki takes off running. Not good, not good. Ivalji sighs. She hears lkki yelps softly in the next room.
The entire wall of one side is completely burned away, letting wing blow through it and swirl the ashes around.
“Oh.” lkki says softly, just gazing. Fire still smoulders, burning away to the interior of the house.
“Oh gosh.” lkki nearly breaks down.
“Mama is going to lock me up! I can’t--can’t--” The rest of her words are lost in tears. Ivalji shifts from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. Things do not look good. She is simply a dream, yes, but lkki is a eight year old girl whose parents think she’s going mad.
“Um…..Look here. Maybe your parents will think it’s an accident or something.” lkki doesn’t hear.
Ikki blinks through her tears. “I need to do something. I need to….run away!”
“What? No that’s a horrible idea, Ikki--”
She isn’t listening.
“Find Leo! WE’re going to run away!”
“But--”
Ikki dashes back up to her room, finds her backpack and stuffs it with mismatched clothing and a few dollar bills. She reason that she needs food, and heads to the kitchen. Leo leans on the counter, looking skeptical. Time and space did not affect the two of them like normal people.
“You’re….running away?”
“You’ve burned down half of my house!”
“That’s overstating the problem.”
“Mama’s going to lock me up, and if she does that, you’re locked up too. Plus, do you exactly have a say in the matter?”
Ikki explains, as she nestles jars of pickles in her clothes. Ivaji rolls her eyes. “She is right.” They had to be close to Ikki all the time if they wished to exist in this world.
Suddenly, she hears footsteps upstairs and a voice. “Ikki, darling? Where are you?”
“Run!’ she hisses, quickly opening the kitchen door and slipping out. She dashes to the road, and doesn’t stop running until she is out of sight of the house.
“They will still find you pretty easily.” l vaji informs her.
“Not the way l’m going!” ikki huffs. They’re in the countryside, the nearest city is no more than a few miles away.
“And where is that?’
“New York!”
The two exchange glances.
“You know how long that will take to walk there?”
“l’m not planning on walking!”
“......you can’t drive.”
“But you two can, l bet!”
Aaron-
This again.
It’s almost most like a concert place in reality, l’ve been here so much. Its solid, finite, predictable. l’m not sure how that terrifies me.
The auditorium looms above me, dark and rotting, thousands of seat are stretching onward to the stage. All of it is in some state of disrepair. A single, stark and bright light is on the stage. I know that l will find something there. Behind me, wind whistles disturbingly, dust blowing around me.
Debris crunches under my feet as l mont the stairs to the stage. The light is still far away, tauntingly.
I know i must reach it, must find it no matter what--
I am falling. Free falling into an abyss of darkness. The wind screams around me, as l fall, faster and faster. I open my mouth, but l can’t say anything.
The ground rushes up to me, too fast, much too fast--
Thud.
Blood clouds my vision.
I hear something--words, garbled and rapid, in some sort of animalistic manner.
Seven--caught
Hands--fall
Ropes--inside out
Sky unfolds, escaping
~~~~
I awake to trumpet blasts. My head is screaming with pain, and this new noise stabs into my mind.
There is a good reason why this apartment building commonly known the the “Artisan's Asylum.”
The majority of residents are musicians, artists, screenwriters few , et cetera. The general riff-raff of the lower professional world, because this is nearly right up against the grand theater. Someone feels the need to greet the sun with a trumpet solo. At six am.
Not usual, but very annoying.
I grope for the window latch, and finally open it, peering out. My head hurts like l’ve forcefully pounded it on the wall and it’s threatening to implode. Oh great. I have to play with a small orchestra tonight, a headache it just what l need. The head director is going to kill me if l tell him l can’t come.
I am unable to locate the source of the sound, so l return to my bed, knocking over a pile of books and cello while l’m at it. This place is neither the cleanest nor most comfortable.
What an odd dream. I muse, staring at the ceiling.
(August 12, 2016 - 10:42 pm)