ZEL is back ---> In business.

[» zel cat.]

Name: Zel or Bek. As long as it has 'Master' in front of it.
Desired Classroom Name: The Rehabilitation Center.
Age: 14.
Contacts: MSN: [e-mail] or AIM: IllusionOFmisery
Experience: I have been RPing for like six or so years. Done RP teaching on numerous games and studios.
Patience: If you improve then i am patient.
Qualities: I am thorough .. and ... erm?
How active shall you be? My life is sitting in front of this little square box thing.
Role play examples:

--> A human role-play

They say that the worlds most complex situations and questions can be solved by answering smaller ones. Smaller ones making up the more complex ones. What is the sun? Where did we come from? And still, the smaller ones don't have answers, or don't have the right answers. So in turn, we have all the wrong questions to all the right answers. Scientists have been working for years on the substance that they call space. And yet, artists seemed to have captured it in all the same time, though there forms were not always written down on paper, or in english. Or in fact any language that the human mind could understand in the matter of seconds. Artists have a more refound way to capture each of the elements, each emotion can pose a million words. You see when an artist looks at a landscape, they do not see a tree, a lake and an island. They see life, they see a whole range of colours, they see birds, they find how the air moves around certain objects. They make the image that they paint seem even more real and even slight more surreal than the object they were looking at. You see, the good artist creates not out of what she can see with her eyes, but of what she can see with her mind and imagination. They have been given the gift of belief.

And so it was that as the woman sat with her back against one of the more shady trees on the outskirts of Amnos she pondered this, all the wonders of the earth, all the other realms and what could possibly be waiting out there for her. The girl who knew, even from a young age that she did not fit in here. Not with those in the water realm, for she always dreamt of the wind on her face, of the trees swaying in a gentle breeze. All her art seemed to rely on that one factor. Air. But it was forbidden to cross into that territory, forbidden to cross borders, many did it unanounced, but not women. They were treated as mere possesions, and possesions could not go amis of the one who possessed them. She bit her lip slightly, a drop of blood appeared and yet she mad eno haste to wipe it away, as was the poise of an artist, she was supposed to be creating a poem for one of the higher lords. But no inspiration came to her. It would be only three more hours before she would send the young lady who worked as her messanger to the man, and he would be left empty handed, she couldn't do that.

I feel it there, and yet i cannot reach it. She mused to herself, the girl was supposed to be ladylike, and she played the part pretty well, such as was the life of an artist, always pretending to be in connection with those around them when it was really the world they were thinking about, her mind always found itself flittering away to some unknown and undiscovered place, that was only in her dreams. She was often scolded for it, but she was classified a woman now, and had moved from her aunts place. It was strange, when she was young her mother had passed away, and it had been said her father had aswell. However, she found herself thinking, and coming to an almost certain conclusion that he was still alive .. somewhere, just not here. Aela could paint a picture of his face, thoug that was one of the paintings always burned, painting him always brought her to tears, because she could never complete the painting, all she remembered of him were his emerald green eyes and the was the corners of his mouth creased when he was amused. The song like sound of his laugh, a musical roundition. But she could never finish that painting. You may think that as insignificent, but for an artist not being able to complete a painting hurt, a spiritual wound more deep than any physical one. And her hurt was much more, as she could not complete a painting of her father.

The Silthouette of the moon does shine.
Reflecting gently across the waves.
And yet from afar do'st a shadow grow.

She only got three lines of the poem that was supposed to be littering down the page, when she stopped and crossed it out. No, that was not it, it was harder to find. Something there was not right. So why was it posing so hard to write a simple poem? That is the question that you may ask, and it was on her mind at that moment aswell. But her mind rebelled it had to be perfect, it had to be right. For what else did she have to live for? If not for books, painting and poetry then she would have no identity. And one must protect their identity at all costs. To her writing was not just putting words onto paper and praying to some unknown god that they turn out all right. To her writing was an art, a planned movement, like the swordsman moved his feet and arms in a fight so she must moved the words. To show people just what it is she sees and thinks about. To create a small window in which they can catch glimpses of the world she lives in, to make the words come alive.

The woman sighed, a motion that showed inner distress, even though those who observed her could not see why she would feel this distress. She placed the paper she wrote upon, onto the earth and stood up, moving to the waters edge she stared into it immense mass. It was a strange feat however to see that unlike most people in the water realm she stayed atleast three meters from the edge, another symbol of her differenece. Ever since her mothers death she had feared water, all knowledge of how to swim had evaporated, now she feared the substance and just wished it all to go away. It was so that she only moved to the Isalnds that were connected by bridges, and even then she mainly stayed on the one closest to the border.

Aela did not need to be reminded of her difference, and yet. Many people hastened to do so, she was not blind, though sometimes she may act it.

---> A Light Equine role-play

The wind confused her for a moment. For indeed she thought she had heard another. But how could that be? It was rare enough that she should see one like this out here. In fact she didnt feel nervous about being out here at this hour. For it was like at this hour she could be herself. Now, there was nobody to judge the way she acted. None to start rumors on her happinings. But most of all, nobody to laugh at her. She hated it when she was laughed at. But it seemed as though it was a necessity. To bring you back to knowing you do not own the place in which others believe that they do. Know your place. It was what her mother had always told her. Though her brother had never listened. He was almost as ambitious as herself.

Harks flittered slightly as she caught the silent vocals of Amarai. Nightmares? She was afraid of them, the ones brought to her of Odin. He was trouble, one of the only beings that could scare her into doing almost anything. You couldnt believe how terrifying he was until you saw him. Those eyes.

"Aye, Nightmares haunt me. Even in my wake. Most of the time i darent sleep incase they take me again..."

She whispered slightly. A light sound, barely heard as it sunk through the trees. Hang on, there it was again. The rustling of the bushes, not close yet not to far away. Beside her she felt Vanir tense, his hackles rose. In fact it seemed he had heard the nose aswell. Turning her ivory crown she looked directly into the bushes. Right at where the ebon stag lay. But she could not see him, for he seemed to melt right into the darkness. Supressing a little shiver she looked back to Amarai just in time to catch his second part of lyrics. She felt startled, yet none of that emotion crept upon her maw. She had been well trained in not showing any of the emotion she felt.

Could it be true? He offered her a home, yet they had barely met. Sometimes she thought it quite a rude thing to do, asking of a femme to come with them. Then acting hurt when they denied. It was a difficult possition to be put in.. But...

"You offer me a home? Yet we having just met know nothing of the other. I could be a raving lunatic, yet i do not deny the lust it brings to me to belong...For once.... Bu-"

She stopped abruptly. This time she was sure. Turning her crown quickly she looked to see another stag, stained yet again the colour of charcoal. Drifting towards her. His speed lessened as he caught sight of Vanir, who's bristles had raised upon his spine. Yet he did not move from his mistress' side. She smiled lightly. The stag seemed confused, hoping not to make a fool of himself. She chuckled lightly. She herself had felt that so many times before.

She caught a hint of the old determination upon his optics. That she had seen many times before. That, had never been good. Yet this sight seemed different, this one was afraid. She let a twinkle dance upon her optis. Ivory apendages stood dampened with the morning dew. A light sun rise had started to peep over the distant mountains. She had not realised they had been standing her so long. Faint light touched her crown. She waited politly for the stag to speak. She would not pronounce her loyalty until the other one had spoken. She cared naught for who had the biggest land. Nor who the biggest herd. She was intrested in who had the biggest heart. One that could accept an outcast. Even if this articular outcast was a beauty.

A small laugh escaped her otherwise soundeless maw as the czar spoke his first slightly concerned vocals. It seemed a thing to say when one was out of words. Yet she did not comment on this particular thought.

"A bit late and yet to early. That is the time i like best sir. But true enough that is not the only reason i 'roam' about this frosty morn....Yet you are here to are you not?"

She said. Posing the same question back in his direction, but in a different form. It confused her why both these czars seemed so worried about her being out late. But they were here to? And even if they werent if danger happened to befall her then she had Vanir. Who ubdoubtedly would protect her with his life. In fact, in some cases he had been nearly killed protecting her. She smiled at the nameless stag. A kind gesture one that was given to all yet only to some did it mean anything. You could smile at someone, but only when you really ment it did it mean anything. At his following vocals she twitched her tresses slightly. Names, such a simple thing. Yet it was somethign everyone desired to know.

"They call me Freyja, but as to what you call me al'Harrif. That is your choice."

She said with a sly grin. If one was looking in now, (yet she doubted they would be) it would be a most peculiar sight. It was like to ravens coming to see a seagull. Such an odd combination of colours. Yet they all seemed to fit together perfectly. She knew that by the end of this she would be leaving with one of these two. Yet she was no heartbreaker. Her and the other could still remain friends.

---> A Dark Equine role-play

Silence. It engulfed the gathering, none dare interrupt it, and yet all were yearning for another to come. You could not defeat the lights with a mere four equines, though they were dark and the lights - light. They were not a foe to be underestimated, for feeling that you could win against an enemy was what ultimatly won you the battle. Her mother had always said that she was worthless, perhaps this was why she hated her mother so. But one reason for her being here, was to prove her mother wrong, she was worth something. She would not have been kept alive if she was not. Though her mother shut her eyes, was so blind to her daughters abilities. She could not keep her eyes shut forever, she would have to open them eventually, if only for a second. Greatness was something that few equines were born with, most of them had greatness thrusted upon them, or stumbled upon greatness whilst they wen't along their path. Error knew she was built for better things, it was only yet to find out what. Perhaps being among The Theives was what she was supposed to do. This was her path to greatness.

It was not long until another joined this miserable company, another whore. In fact, the amount of females her suprised her, many thought they would be off bickering for queen in one of the other lands. But yet they were not. She barely saved this wench a glance, listening only to her name. Kimera, she would remember that. And all the other names that had been spoken along the way. For if she would fight by this company, she may atleast know their names. Error held little respect for these creatures, mainly because they alone had come from the holes they lived in, brave enough to dig out of the underground and fight for the land which was rightfully there. To long there had been mindless chatter of coming and attacking the lights, yet until now thats all it had been. Lowly dreams, no longer was it a dream. For now, it would become reality.

She looked to the other stallion that was here. Watching him watching her, there was no emotion in her look, for she had been taught to hide that long ago. Emotion was the key needed to destroy yuo, and Error did not intend on being destroyed soon, or ever. Finally the stallion Calloposis spoke to her. She narrowed her optics slightly. She knew the vixen he spoke of, but her liking of her did nothing, how could she like or hate someone she had never before met? Error watched the black brute, her eyes flickering towards another stallion as he arrived. Themistron he called himself. Ah, so the band was becoming larger. And stronger by the looks of things, that would only make it better. Though for who, she could not yet tell. She turned her proud dial once again to the older stallion. He was handsome aye, but she was not looking for attractions.

"Daughter of Apocalypse and Erida."

She answered. All would know who Erida was, as all had heard of her. Though she was not the Queen of the darks, she was sister to the King of darks. Though Orannis would not show up on this little journey. He would show his support for it. But never would he take instruction from another. Perhaps if any of his family [Rune, Cistene or Error] were threatened then he would come. But that would not be compassion, only to protect the lines that were truely dark. Error flicked her tail boredly, she knew that all these stallions here were stronger than her, it was natural. So far she had only ever heard of one battle between a stallion and a mare where the mare actually won. That was her mother, but that battle was long ago. Long, long ago.

She watched in faint amusement as another two turned up, one she knew as the Queen of darks, Artemis, who also happened to be the queen of this terrain that they now all sheltered so adoringly within. The ground so vast and the temperature barely warm enough to keep you from shivering. It was a hard life indeed, but one that she took every pleasure in living. The other black vixen whom took her place beside Error adressed herself as Raven, this clicked. It was one of her uncle's mares. Error looked around at the company, five mares and only three stallions. Surely more would come. Was that not their job? Their duty as a dark? It was so obvious that she was the youngest here, but did that mean she was the weakest? Not at all, and she would not stand to be called as such.

Master. If she was supposed to adress any here as master then she would immediatly leave. She was not a slave, she was a free dark mare. Bound to no stag, as she had not journeyed yet to the claiming lands. Sure she lived under Rune in this harem, but he would never be her master. It was a word that allowed you to be claimed, to be dominated. But never would she be dominated, never would she be forced to do something that she did not wish to do. It was the will of her mother that spoke there, she was a fighter and always would be. Error smirked slightly to herself, remaining silent other than letting her eyes drip eeriely over those who stood in the gathering. It was careless and quite frankly only pure boredom that made her do this.

As Rune spoke she let a wry smirk form upon her lips. As Kimera spoke she listened with vague amusement. Lead them to greatness? It was not who lead you, but how you followed that led you to greatness. You could be led by the darkest and cruelest stag, but it was the part you played in the whole game that determined how great the outcome was. Surely this wench saw that, or perhaps Error's judgement was just to profound. She often thought beyond her years. Finally she looked directly at Rune. Opening her maw she spoke to him, letting the others listen, but these words were for him.

"Will other come? Or have we been abandoned by those who live in fear of a foe that they have always said we can defeat?"

Her words were full of mockery, but the mockery was not directed at Rune. It was directed at the fools who quivered in there damp caves, to afraid to do anything about this light infestation. It was cowardice, and she, Error, would never be touched or consumed by it.