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Hello! OvO
Sure! I have quite a bit of ideas!
Lol! It's totally fine and forgive me, most of my expertise is either historical or fantasy, if you'd prefer a modern setting don't hesitate to let me know!
Also, I am okay with any kind of relationship, and I'm okay with any rating.
- Winged folk, who live like us humans. They recently discover mermaids. They cant understand their strange language– governments deem them animals, next thing you know they're found in zoos. Character Y is a zookeeper, using money for college to be an anthropologist (studies culture). One day, Y cracks the language with X Mermaid's help. (Possible romance?)
- Dragons and their society. Three different species: Black, grey, white. Black are upper class, grey middle, white lowest. One day, civil war ensues.
- It's the American (or French) Revolution. Character Y is British/French royalty. Character X is a rebel spy. They find each other in very unlikely places, and find they need the other more than anyone else.
These are just a few. If you're not super interested with these let me know if you'd like some more ideas!
It might work best if I'm the spy character– it'll be easier to direct the plot, I think.
Before we do templates, do you have any questions about the era? Also, is it French or American?
Coolio! Template time!
Name: Robert Townsend
Age: 29
Appearance: Dark copper hair, dark brown eyes that appear more like honey in bright light. A straight nose, oval face. 5'7, of average musculature. He is a Quaker, which entails modesty– that's why his wardrobe is almost entirely grey and black.
Personality: Robert is a very introverted man. The last person you'd expect to be a spy– which is exactly why he is one (Quakers are traditionally neutral in everything). He is a soft spoken person, very secretive, takes most everything quite seriously and quite literally. He is very dedicated to his morals and experiences strong dismay when he happens to violate one.
Other: He runs a tavern, despite not drinking alcohol himself. He is very close to his father, Richard ("Papa Townsend") whom is much more jovial and affectionate than his recluse of a son. Richard is mainly the reason why Robert is a spy at all.
Name: Charles "Lee" Sinclair
Gender: Male
Age: 28 and one quarter
Appearance: Dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes with a sharp red tint to them. He has a rather small nose and an almond-ish shaped face. He is slightly thin for his age group and stands at 5'9", giving him an almost lanky sort of appearance. He became the crown prince of Great Britain after his "tragic" death of his brother and now wears the ruby-embellished gold crown and sash that his late brother once wore. In addition to that, he wears brown mid-thigh boots over white pants and a red vest over a white shirt with frilled sleeve holes.
Personality: He has a snobbish attitude (I mean whaddya expect?) though he does feel regret for certain actions (even when not in the wrong). He can be quite rude at times and doesn't allow for others to speak when he feels that he has something more important to say and he can be quite insensitive when it comes to jokes. He isn't of very high moral character, though he does have a few.
Other: He enjoys playing card games such as "I declare war" or "Spades". Despite disagreeing on most opinions that his father has, they both agree that guillotine is an unnecessarily cruel method of execution and have both vowed to never use such a method during their reign. He is a very light drinker and usually doesn't drink around others because he dislikes getting drunk in front of others.
Random quote because I felt like it: "I've never lost a game completely. If I lose, my opponent simply loses their life, that way it's now a win-win!"
(Sorry it took so long)
totally fine!
need me to start off?
For the most part, today had been a normal day.
Breakfast, lunch, the usual servant-delivered three course meal. His father ate probably too much as always, rambling about things that didn't matter. His associates, as always, answered with quizzical looks and twitching, frustrated hands.
At least, as normal as things were since the Colonies began defecting. It really left a mark on the King's mental stability, as if he wasn't insane enough.
Dinner was being served in roughly twenty minutes. Rum-roasted pork, beans, potatoes, carrots, bread, black tea and a lavish dessert of iced berry sugar-cakes.
| "Surely you are joking. Right?" |
He refused to believe it. The idea of the colonies rebelling aggravated Charles deeply so. The way that his father reacted to it enraged him. "You're telling me that you are fine with your colonies rebelling?! You're a madman!" He slammed his fists on the table, plates rattling. "If you let the colonists run themselves, then we might as well not call them a colony and rather a waste of an investment!"
The King raised a hand to Charles, signaling him to stop yelling. "That's enough, Charles," he said. "If you have a concern about the colonies, then you may present it during a Parliament meeting, but not here."
Charles snorted loudly. "Parliament? As if I would ever! I'll just be sure to fix it during my reign, which shall be coming in due time, Your Highness." Charles stood up from his chair and started off to his room, leaving before the second course of the meal was served.
He knew that he needed to get rid of the problem. Though as much as didn't want to admit it, the problem was not the colonies, but rather the King.
After some time of letting the Prince stew in his frustration, there was a knock at his door.
(Sorry, school)
He raised a questioning eyebrow. He wasn't expecting any visitors. At least not yet, in any case. "Just a moment, please!" He fixed his hair a bit and walked to the door opening it to someone not too familiar. The. . .tavern owner. Right?
"What might be your business with me?" he asked skeptically, idly adjusting his sash. "I certainly don't remember making an appointment or anything of the sort."
No problem! I go back tomorrow)
Also I wont introduce robert for a bit– i'm setting up another character that will (eventually) cause the prince to need his help if thats ok)
It wasn't him. Instead, it was one of the servants: black haired, green-eyed Claire Beaufont. Her job was to deliver whatever the royals needed, be it anything from letters to a late night glass of wine. "Prince Sinclair," She addressed faintly.
its totally fine!)
She met his gaze firmly. Claire wasn't one to waiver. Maybe it was her French lineage– stuck in a country who despised her sort. "Your father sent me." she answered simply, lifted her chin.