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Meteorite
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2023
Looking to do an arranged marriage RP in a fantasy or fantastical SF setting. Think a type of neo-feudalism a la Dune. I'm most interested in our characters' dynamic, but developing a world around that can be an additional part of the fun. I'd like to explore a relationship that goes from noncon or dubcon to con. I'm pretty limitless except in regards to family or animals, I don't go near those. We can get as depraved or fucked up as all hell in regards to everything else, just let me know what you're interested in. The best RPs I've participated in have had fairly lengthy posts, think 600-1,000 words per post. A potential starter for the beginning of the RP I'm thinking of is below:
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good kingdom, must be in want of an empire.
Fay was depending on that to prove true, as she turned the key in the ignition and the dingy travel buggy quit sputtering and calmed to stillness. The first cessation of the vibration that had been shaking her lithe form the last fourteen hours of ceaseless travel since dawn, following the chewed asphault that the old road from Falover to Dunskeep had become. Her butt was both numb and stiff as she grabbed the A pillar of the chassis and pulled herself free from the driver's seat. There was the distant crash of waves and gull cry and before her the implacable face of the Dunkeep, a kilometer high blastwall of scorched metals. A comically small door faced her a quick walk from where she had "parked" her buggy. She approached and thumbed an intercom button, and a piece of wall illuminated into an image of a Highland soldier.
"Business in Dunskeep?" Came the emotionless inquiry, pristinely clear from an invisible speaker somewhere.
"Excuse me?" her Highlish was rusty, and the clipped comportment of the guard caught her unawares. He gave what she could only interpret as a stink eye through the camera.
"What is your purpose in coming here, foreigner?"
A kalediscopal flash of images cascaded across Fay's mind. The slaughtered corpses of her family, the soldier reaching for her dress, the slash of the dagger and the gout of impossibly bright blood gushing from the throat where she slashed it. It had looked like a cartoon. It still felt like a cartoon. A fragment of a binged series she'd just turned off the night before. She supposed this was the disocciation she'd heard of in trauma victims. Lifting the bloody crown from her mother's head, secreting it in her knapsack, fleeing the family tower. The pair of crowns, her mothers and her fathers, tarnished with blood gone black with a day's aging, silenting scheming from the passenger seat, in her knapsack. Like her parents heads, pressed together in love. Now the empty crowns looped together. Their heads left on the floor, disconnected from their bodies. The rapists dead in a moments gunfire. The bugout bag where it had always been, in the drills they'd done. She'd been down the wire and out of the country in a night, her hair chopped off and stuffed under a cloak. Her telltale Pennywhistle ears kept hidden. A ferry the next day across the main and she'd spent the night behind a garage. Managed to haggle the jewelry she'd snatched from her dead family, after washing it in the saltwater on the way over, for a buggy in good enough shape to take her to the northern limit of Highland. To Dunskeep. To the man her father, the toppled King of Valia had told her about. To Alistair Dun, the King of Highland.
"WHY DO YOU SEEK ENTRY?"
"I apologize," her Valian lips finding their way around the Highlish vowels, "I…" where to begin? The truth? "I am Fay Pennywhistle. The last surviving member, I think, of the Pennywhistle lineage. I seek an audience with Alistair Dun, the King."
"And I'm a Svalish prince. Fuck off, beggar wench."
And the blastwall returned to its scorched, oxidized ambivalence.
Fay shrugged. It's not like she could argue with him, and much as she wanted to retaliate, the blank metal in front of her did not seem a likely target for vengeance.
She thumbed the intercom again, and the glaring gentleman from earlier reappeared.
"I'll ask you once more since it's my job, but after that I'm sending the buzzers out after you. Business in Dunskeep?"
"Valian connect, messages up from the families in the South."
"Papers?"
"Valian."
"You need a Highlish Apostille."
"I might have that."
"Might?"
"It's in Highlish, my mom arranged it. I can speak but I can't read too well."
"Submit for verification."
A pneumatic chute appeared in the detailess face of the wall, a cloudy plastic container held trembling before her in the air current. She inserted her ticket stub from the ferry and what amounted to half a day's wage in Valia in Highlish bills. One way or another this was going to get sorted. She had her answer in regards to which way when the screen blinked off and a small door opened a few feet away from her and the man she'd been speaking to sidled out wrapped in a plastic rain coat with detention bracelets in hand.
"Bribing an official of the Dunskeep Wall? Are you out of your mind? You coulda gotten buzzed off and spent a warm night out on the downs, and now you've got to be processed. I swear you Valian don't have a pair of brain cells to squeek together," muttering on he fitted her with the bracelets and fished in her pockets until he found the keys to the buggy, passing them to the other guard of the Wall, who prepared to impound the vehicle.
In this scenario I'd be looking for someone to play as Fay. We can, of course, develop our own lore if you're interested in something else. I'm available over Discord, PMs, or email, whatever is easiest for both of us. Drop me a message if you're interested and we can chat about a story. I do like to chat for a bit OOC to make sure we're aligned before beginning, but if you're a great writer I don't much care, so long as the story is good.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good kingdom, must be in want of an empire.
Fay was depending on that to prove true, as she turned the key in the ignition and the dingy travel buggy quit sputtering and calmed to stillness. The first cessation of the vibration that had been shaking her lithe form the last fourteen hours of ceaseless travel since dawn, following the chewed asphault that the old road from Falover to Dunskeep had become. Her butt was both numb and stiff as she grabbed the A pillar of the chassis and pulled herself free from the driver's seat. There was the distant crash of waves and gull cry and before her the implacable face of the Dunkeep, a kilometer high blastwall of scorched metals. A comically small door faced her a quick walk from where she had "parked" her buggy. She approached and thumbed an intercom button, and a piece of wall illuminated into an image of a Highland soldier.
"Business in Dunskeep?" Came the emotionless inquiry, pristinely clear from an invisible speaker somewhere.
"Excuse me?" her Highlish was rusty, and the clipped comportment of the guard caught her unawares. He gave what she could only interpret as a stink eye through the camera.
"What is your purpose in coming here, foreigner?"
A kalediscopal flash of images cascaded across Fay's mind. The slaughtered corpses of her family, the soldier reaching for her dress, the slash of the dagger and the gout of impossibly bright blood gushing from the throat where she slashed it. It had looked like a cartoon. It still felt like a cartoon. A fragment of a binged series she'd just turned off the night before. She supposed this was the disocciation she'd heard of in trauma victims. Lifting the bloody crown from her mother's head, secreting it in her knapsack, fleeing the family tower. The pair of crowns, her mothers and her fathers, tarnished with blood gone black with a day's aging, silenting scheming from the passenger seat, in her knapsack. Like her parents heads, pressed together in love. Now the empty crowns looped together. Their heads left on the floor, disconnected from their bodies. The rapists dead in a moments gunfire. The bugout bag where it had always been, in the drills they'd done. She'd been down the wire and out of the country in a night, her hair chopped off and stuffed under a cloak. Her telltale Pennywhistle ears kept hidden. A ferry the next day across the main and she'd spent the night behind a garage. Managed to haggle the jewelry she'd snatched from her dead family, after washing it in the saltwater on the way over, for a buggy in good enough shape to take her to the northern limit of Highland. To Dunskeep. To the man her father, the toppled King of Valia had told her about. To Alistair Dun, the King of Highland.
"WHY DO YOU SEEK ENTRY?"
"I apologize," her Valian lips finding their way around the Highlish vowels, "I…" where to begin? The truth? "I am Fay Pennywhistle. The last surviving member, I think, of the Pennywhistle lineage. I seek an audience with Alistair Dun, the King."
"And I'm a Svalish prince. Fuck off, beggar wench."
And the blastwall returned to its scorched, oxidized ambivalence.
Fay shrugged. It's not like she could argue with him, and much as she wanted to retaliate, the blank metal in front of her did not seem a likely target for vengeance.
She thumbed the intercom again, and the glaring gentleman from earlier reappeared.
"I'll ask you once more since it's my job, but after that I'm sending the buzzers out after you. Business in Dunskeep?"
"Valian connect, messages up from the families in the South."
"Papers?"
"Valian."
"You need a Highlish Apostille."
"I might have that."
"Might?"
"It's in Highlish, my mom arranged it. I can speak but I can't read too well."
"Submit for verification."
A pneumatic chute appeared in the detailess face of the wall, a cloudy plastic container held trembling before her in the air current. She inserted her ticket stub from the ferry and what amounted to half a day's wage in Valia in Highlish bills. One way or another this was going to get sorted. She had her answer in regards to which way when the screen blinked off and a small door opened a few feet away from her and the man she'd been speaking to sidled out wrapped in a plastic rain coat with detention bracelets in hand.
"Bribing an official of the Dunskeep Wall? Are you out of your mind? You coulda gotten buzzed off and spent a warm night out on the downs, and now you've got to be processed. I swear you Valian don't have a pair of brain cells to squeek together," muttering on he fitted her with the bracelets and fished in her pockets until he found the keys to the buggy, passing them to the other guard of the Wall, who prepared to impound the vehicle.
In this scenario I'd be looking for someone to play as Fay. We can, of course, develop our own lore if you're interested in something else. I'm available over Discord, PMs, or email, whatever is easiest for both of us. Drop me a message if you're interested and we can chat about a story. I do like to chat for a bit OOC to make sure we're aligned before beginning, but if you're a great writer I don't much care, so long as the story is good.