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ebonyrose

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About ebonyrose

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  • Birthday 01/06/1995

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    ebonyrose95
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    Sunshine State, USA
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    Writing Fiction, Reading, Reading Manga, Watching Anime, Working out (pathetically), RPGing, and Organizing.
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    AKJDHSJHD I have a real job now. :3 Drug-Store person! ^_^
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    Karen

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  1. happy birthday my gorgous woman :D

  2. ebonyrose

    The Crow King

    Moire They were scheduled to reach town in two days. That wasn't good enough. Unrest was stirring, and--having reached Moire's eager ears by virtue of whispers and rumor--it had drawn her in. They would keep moving through the night. Unable to sleep, Moire had begun taking inventory for the hundredth time. Until Hazel had fallen asleep a little over an hour ago, she had been reading aloud, providing entertainment, if not assistance. Value. Worth. Cost. These terms had always been lost in translation between them. Take inventory, little one. Take care. Take time. Take all you can. She had instructed Hazel day after day, Or have it taken from you. Moire started as something clattered to the ground behind her. The book had finally slipped out of Hazel's hand, jarred by the gentle movement of the cart. A weary smile flickered across Moire's face, transient as the lantern-shadows skittering off the wood and canvas walls of the wagon. She would learn, eventually. Yes, eventually, she would be everything Moire expected of her. But not now. Not while she was the girl who could fall asleep so trustingly next to swords, axes, and poison. Now, she was just Hazel, whose life was sustained by an innocent, untested heart of gold. Suddenly, Hazel's eyes shot open. Embarrassed, Moire ducked her head, afraid that her fond thoughts might leak into her expression. It would do Hazel no good to offer affirmation. She was weak. As long as she was that good-hearted girl, she would never be Sieve. "I smell smoke." Hazel scarcely more than mouthed. "Smoke. Do you smell it, mother? Something's burning." All fond thoughts were smothered for the moment in exasperation. For years, Moire had tried to break Hazel of her aversion to fire. It was a method of purification, not destruction. Hazel, however, could not differentiate between the two. She bore scars from her days as a slave, but even more so from the day of her liberation; she had seen the fire that destroyed her home, she had seen the death and the bodies consumed by flames. The memories did not empower her, but rather weakened her. The sight, the sound, the smell of fire haunted her in her dreams, Moire knew. But now, the phantoms seemed to drift from Hazel's perception to Moire. Suddenly, she fancied she smelt the same smoke, heard the same crackling, and felt the same heat. Was it her imagination? "Kel Veye." A figure slid in through the curtained entrance, very much real. "There's a fire ahead." "Are the roads blocked?" "We don't know yet. Fera rode ahead to see. What are your orders?" "We wait. Stop the cart at once." Moire said quietly, grabbing a satchel from a peg and pushing aside the curtain. The smoke-tinged air was otherwise cool. It wasn't the season for fire to catch without cause. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she beckoned wordlessly for Hazel to follow. Horror read briefly on the girl's face with her first full breath of the tainted air. However, she obeyed. The two ventured away from the cart, closer to the fire. The trees became sparser, and the smell of smoke became a hazy orange glow in the distance. Finally, the forest stopped and a glade began, its boundary marked by a furious blaze on the other side. "I can't go any farther." Hazel whimpered. "I can't. The trees ringing around the glade will catch. And we'll be in the middle..." "Hush." Moire ordered, squinting to get a better view of what was happening at the other side of the glade. Silhouettes seemed to emerge from the flames themselves, sprinting, cowering. Now gathering in groups. Now the shape of a weapon would emerge and they would threaten each other, movements hellishly exaggerated by the fire behind them. And then, from what seemed to be the fire itself, a sound rose. Someone was screaming. Moire caught only one word. Prisoners. "Of course!" Moire purred, staring intently at the ever-increasing number of shadowy figures. "Prisoners. Escaped prisoners. Little hawks with broken wings, all of them. What better way to find their nest? Hazel!" The girl stopped crying with an abrupt sniffle. Hair disheveled from sleep, plain clothes, pale, tearstained face... She was a perfect fit. One might easily believe she had just escaped from prison. "Hazel, I have a job for you." Moire said. "See those people over there? I believe these are the ones we've been searching for, or at least can take us to them. I want you to hide yourself among them. Find out all about them for me." Hazel's eyes went saucer round, and Moire continued hastily, "I have never made you do anything against your will, and I will not begin tonight. I will not send you out, only for you to get yourself killed because you changed your mind halfway through. Can you do this for me, and can you do it in its entirety? Without regret, and without turning back?" Hazel stared out for a second, more at the fire than the escaped prisoners. Could she? She looked back to Moire. If she didn't, then Moire would. Among the young, bedraggled prisoners, Moire would stand out. She'd be found out in a second. There's no telling what they would do to her then. Hazel made her decision. "I will go." ----- Hazel Between the smoke and adrenaline running on high, Hazel was intoxicated. Moire's blessing had fallen on deaf ears; Hazel had only caught the part where Moire had promised to help her along the way, whatever that meant. She was vaguely aware of Moire giving her the satchel, before turning her back and heading back to the wagon. Hazel staggered toward the flames, skirting around the edges of the glade for cover. She had enough sense in her to know that she had to create the illusion of running from the same danger the escaped prisoners were, if she was to pass as one of them. "Gather the fools out there and we'll split them in half. Form a search party with some of them and have the others put that fire out." Had the man not spoken, Hazel would have run into him. She'd travelled too far back, right into the fray the others had escaped from. She crept back quietly, hoping neither the fallen man nor his companion had noticed her. She spun on her heel and sprinted towards the glade, where the others remained congregated. For fugitives, they seemed to do more talking than running. Without thinking, Hazel blurted out a warning. In the wrong language. Citizens of the kingdom all spoke a common language, uniform across the cities. Although Hazel could speak it fluently, she spoke primarily in her own language. However, she decided not to correct herself; the fluke might prove to be advantageous. If nothing else, it would spare her from explaining herself, at least for a little while. "Can anyone understand me?" She asked in her own language, flitting from fugitive to fugitive and making frantic guestures toward the forest. "They will be coming soon, I heard them! Can you understand? We have to run!" OT: For clarity's sake, when Hazel doesn't speak the common language, I'll italicize it. By default, this applies to all her conversations with Moire. @Logos: Of theives? D'oh. ._. *packs up accordion*
  3. ebonyrose

    The Crow King OT

    Thanks for the welcomes, all. Name: Kel* Moire (MOY-reh) Veye *Kel is an honorific. Subordinates (waiting on GM approval for this part) would refer to her as Kel Veye, or the Kel. Age: 35 Gender: Female Appearance: http://i138.photobucket.com/albums/q266/live4christ95/Shave-1.png (Head is shaved, but she wears the scarf... minus the superimposed capitol thing.) Prisoner or Crow: Neither (Sieve) Weapons: Primary is a set of six chakram; two worn around the neck, two smaller ones on each wrist. Bio: Moire is not originally from the kingdom. Her family came by boat to Senovis twenty years ago, settling in a small village by the mountains. They were well-educated, scholarly people but were viewed by strangers as primitive and gullible. Because of this, neighbors frequently tried to take advantage of them. One such neighbor sought to rid himself of a vast plot of mountain land, too rocky to grow crops. Moire's father played the idiot and bought the land at thrice as much as what it was valued. He was the laughingstock of his village until iron was discovered on his "worthless" property. With that, Moire's father became the lord of their town. Moire's father built up his manufacturing empire just in time for the war. The grew wealthier with every passing year. When Moire turned twenty, she asked her parents for their blessing and her share of the inheritance. They aquiesced. With a fortune at her hands, Moire partnered with her father's industry and began her own trading network. However, for all her sucess, Moire had her own battles that could not be won with force. Her marriage at age twenty-two to the mogul of a competetive trading company was political; the union served to unite their resources, creating an even larger empire under the Kel name. However, Moire had her own reasons for marriage; she wanted an heir. In the business of death, Moire wanted only to bring a singular life into the world; a good, noble life that would absolve her of her own crimes. However, it was not to be; Moire was barren. Although what powers there were had not granted Moire a child of her own, they did allow her a consolation. Moire's protege, Hazel, came into her custody in Anskmekkar, after her master, an overseer of production, had been discovered cheating the Kel out of her percentage. In standard fashion the man, his workers, and his family were slaughtered to set an example to all who would take advantage of the Kel. However, Moire allowed one survivor, a girl named Hazel who had always captured her attention on previous visits. Name: Hazel Veye Age: 15 Gender: Female Appearance: http://i138.photobucket.com/albums/q266/live4christ95/Family.jpg Prisoner or Crow: Neither (Sieve) Weapons: Set of three throwing knives and a dirk. Bio: Hazel's mother hailed from the same country as Moire. Name blackened by debt, she was unable to flee the country through any official capacity. However, she had heard a captain of a private vessel ran a smuggling enterprise for people in such situations. Scraping together what funds she could, the woman and her unborn child boarded the ship with fifty others and unwittingly forfeited their freedom. The prisoners were treated decently on the journey, provided spartan but adequate accomodatrions, and underwent the journey not knowing that were now slaves. The reality set in at the Anskmekkar port, when they were shackled and sold to the highest bidder. Hazel's mother was sold as a domestic servant to one of the Kel's overseers. Hazel was literally born into slavery. From the moment she was old enough to walk, she was old enough to work, and old enough to be subject to the same sort of physical abuse that the other servants were subject to. In between, her mother passed her culture, religion, and language down to her daughter. Years after Hazel's mother died, Hazel kept the customs she had been taught, more out of habit than sentiment. On her visits to Anskmekkar, Moire always noticed the singular slave who spoke to herself in a language no one else could understand. Despite the class divide, Moire found ways to talk to Hazel, and eventually learn her story. When Hazel's master was discovered to be stealing, the Kel swooped dutifully to destroy all that bore his name. However, Moire remembered her friend. Hazel was only ten at the time, the youngest slave in the estate. Her protection had been ensured, and, as crowds gathered around the smoldering remains of the overseer's estate, Moire stood with a confused and tearful Hazel beside her. Moire delivered the usual speech following a betrayal, underlined with a familiar moral; no one cheats the Kel. Taking Hazel's hand, she spoke of the Kel's mercy. There, with the stench of burning bodies in the air, she adopted Hazel as her daughter and heir. The arrangement was never questioned, and for five years, Hazel has been a testament to life springing from death, and mercy flowing from Moire Veye's hardened heart. Background Information: The Kel (Means: "The Lady" or "The Mistress". ) (This information is provided for background only; The Seive are chosen from the Kel, so all of this information loosely applies to them as well. I'm not making any Kel characters who aren't Sieve.) The Kel began as the partnership between Moire Veye's trading company and her father's weapon business. In recent years, the empire has expanded to include food, livestock, textiles, precious stones and metals, and other necessary or luxury items that fetch a high price in wartime. The Kel also encompasses a newly formed, experimental mercenary division. Previously, Kel Veye highered trained blades to protect and transport goods from city to city. Recently, she has been renting them out to the highest bidder to settle private disputes or longtime feuds. The Kel operates under feudal system rules, Kel Veye being the lord, with vassal-like overseers in place under her. These overseers would supervise production and distribution of weapons in other cities in the Kel's name. The use of the Kel name meant that the Crow leadership would not touch them, as they were protected under a royal charter. Also, it granted them access to Kel resources and craftsmen in other cities. Despite having to pay a percentage of profit to the Kel, overseers could become very wealthy in this line of work. Kel mercenaries have to live by a strict code of laws. The heads of men and women alike are shaved, clothing must be plain and gender-neutral, and they are expected to take a vow of celibacy before joining. Size: Forty five Overseers spread across the kingdom, each with several hundred laborers underneath. There are seven caravans comprised of three to five carts of goods each. Each caravan is protected and run by three elite per cart. The Sieve (This is what would be directly involved with the game, and consists of four NPCs, Moire, and Hazel.) The Seive is an offshoot of the Kel. Officially, Moire has a contract with the King, which ensures her more profit and safety in above-the-table dealings. However, as the war dragged on, the profitability of selling to only one side began dwindling, until Moire decided it was worth the risk to deal to Hawks and Crows alike. With her small group of elite, she hopes to establish a trading relationship with the rebels, seperate but parallel (and of course unknown) to the Crows. Size: The Sieve currently number six, including Moire and Hazel. They keep only one cart, stocked primarily with weapons, but also containing some luxury items.
  4. ebonyrose

    Zombie infection (user discretion recommended)

    I'll take my chances in Florida. ._.
  5. ebonyrose

    Ask A Guy

    I'm going to do it.... -____- Age gap in post-high school relationships? Age gap in post-college relationships? Flattering if a younger lady takes a liking to (her being post-legality age, we're not talking 14 year olds) or creepy? Reason for asking: Mommy-dear always said 10-years is the ideal age gap for married couples. Just wondering what menfolk would think about that in a datingish scenario. O_o
  6. ebonyrose

    Zombie infection (user discretion recommended)

    As a Floridian, I must blame all my state's shortcomings on the heat and the tourists. This is merely a combination of heat and tourism. Give us outdoor A/C and armed border control, and we'll be fine.
  7. ebonyrose

    Should I make a Facebook?!?

    As someone who quit and rejoined facebook, I getcha. I quit because there were certain people cluttering up my feed that I felt like I couldn't delete. So, I got out with the intent of simplifying my life, and it did. However, there were certain friends I couldn't remain in contact with otherwise. So, I came back for those friends, and also to remind potential babysitting clients that I hadn't dropped off the face of the earth. If you choose to come back, know that it's going to be a tad scary; you'll freak out a little over spending too much time on it, you'll freak out about having to deal with people you'd rather forget about, you'll worry about your grades dropping because of this new distraction in your life. But it'll be okay, and here's how I'm dealing with it: *Start from scratch. Go through your friends list and delete everyone except close friends and family. Alternatively, ask yourself, "Do I really care so much about every detail of X's life? If this were real life, am I close enough to X that I wouldn't be invading her privacy?" or just "Do I really want to see everything X posts, or do I just feel obligated to be her friend on facebook?" When in doubt, delete; if you've deactivated your account/been inactive, chances are they won't notice. If they care enough to notice, most of them will add you back. ~Following the same vein of reason, I also liked going back and deleting anything overly facepalmy from my notes, photos, and statuses. It's just a little less stress. *So, now you've whittled it down to close friends and family and/or various people who are too cool to defriend. Make an effort to talk to these people, because that's really the only reason social networks exist. Ever since coming back, I've been taking full advantage of chat. *If you feel you can't delete someone, but don't care to see every minute detail of their life, hide them in your news feed. That way, what reaches you are only the updates of your inner circle. With less immediate stuff in your feed, you'll spend less time online, and more Facebook time devoted to people you care about, not meaningless drama. *If you have to, get a site-block application; I have one on Chrome that blocks sites except for a specified amount of minutes every several hours. It's pretty cool, and it helps discourage procrastination.
  8. ebonyrose

    Confessions

    .
  9. ebonyrose

    The Crow King OT

    Never too late to join, y'say? Allow me a day or so to catch up on the reading. And.. uh. XD if anyone needs a ying-to-their-yang character, I'm willing to accommodate.
  10. ebonyrose

    Confessions

    I'm not going to burn pictures. I'm not going to burn the cards I've saved, or the scarf that you knitted me. I'm going to burn every bitter letter I've written you. I'm going to go back and delete every little rant saved on my computer. If I have to, I'll edit out every Confession regarding you, except this one, because the message of this one is different: I was wrong.
  11. What are your thoughts on this article? I was inspired to share this here because I was reading the comment section. (You know, where the most unintelligent forms of internet life settle and wage primitive, barbarian war on each other. And that I routinely engage in. Yes.) I was overwhelmed and honestly sickened by the amount hate. Seeing people call her ugly, nasty, and grotesque really ticked me off, and I'm not the sort to get ticked off over some random stranger on the internet. What really irritates me is that our culture puts so much value on being stick thin, that there is (understandably) a backlash. The healthy side of that backlash acknowledges that any size or shape can be beautiful. The annoying side seems to be preoccupied with hating skinniness. And when someone has an exaggeratedly "ideal" hourglass shape like Miss Ioana here, she's suddenly an enemy of "eclectic beauty". I'm annoyed. ._. And I have a soapbox. Let's all discuss beauty now.
  12. ebonyrose

    Just covering my bases...

    Maria, thank you, thank you, thank you for putting words to my thoughts. I know where you're coming from. Honestly, I don't know if I can pray for you, for the same reason you said you didn't think you could pray for yourself. Not trying to hijack your thread or anything. I'm just grateful that you had the courage to put your struggle to words.
  13. Karen She realized suddenly that she'd spaced out again. For some reason, she was thinking about the characters of other writers, much better than her own; Poe's narrator of the Tell-Tale heart, Shakespeare's immortal Iago... But time moved slowly here, and she was back in time to hear Marley's proposition for a new game. "Messing with out-of-touch kids is always fun." Karen said, perhaps a little too lightly, "It'd be fun to take someone who's already crazy and really scare them into thinking they've completely lost it. Perhaps have them earn their sanity back, one hundred percent. The way I see it, drifting in and out Wonderland means you either leave with more than you came in with, or you don't come back at all. Or at least, not all of you comes back." Karen was smiling. Saoirse, who had been floating at the edges of the small group, frowned. "Would y'bring me back?" She whispered. Karen shrugged, casting another look around the room. There were so many character she hadn't noticed before. One particular group caught her eye. The wanderer figure, complete with a hat and more guns than should have been allowed. A boy in ragged clothes, sitting by a girl who couldn't speak. A young man with a staff who looked about ready to murder a smirking, black-clad figure. Golden crosses hung from some necks, bruises dotted some faces, and scars of the visible and invisible variety marked a game that had lasted a good long while. If anyone had earned a rest, it was these characters. Yet if there was anyone Karen would have wanted to see resurrected, it would have been one of them, complete with the relationships that had taken hundreds of posts to solidify. Focusing once more on the present conversation, Karen chimed in, "Yes Marley, do tell. I haven't the foggiest idea what Zabby's talking about."
  14. ebonyrose

    Depressed

    ENDORPHIIIIIIIN RUUUUUSH. Pretty much. And what everyone else said.
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