(bump)
(also, i have a new roleplay! i hate to be that person, but if any of you guys are interested in competitive reality shows, please join at https://www.notebook.ai/forum/roleplaying/want-to-compete-for-the-chance-to-join-a-girl-group-open)
(I'm working on the starter right now, I'm not sure when I'll be able to get it up. I'll try for tomorrow
dw, you're not being 'that person'!)
(Don't let this die! It's a good Rp!)
(I had no intention of doing so, things have just been slow, dw)
(Finally done the starter! I know it's probably late where everyone else is but I'm putting it up or else I'll never get around to it)
Light.
It was such a fragile concept. So clearly present, in the way the sunbeams seemed to swell behind a closed curtain, illuminating the room even through the semi-diaphanous fabric. Without it, sight was impossible, could not be achieved, yet somehow, light didn’t fully seem to be there at all. It played across the skin, but slipped through reaching fingers and closing fists. Untouchable, literally, but bringing to life every tangible item before a pair of eyes.
These were the thoughts that turned in the mind of the young woman who sat gracefully curved against the arm of the sofa. Thoughts of the light.
And thoughts of the dark.
Which was where she had been trapped for the entirety of the night, tangled in a net of rough groans, harsh commands, locked in a cage of roaming hands and hot breath against her bare skin. The only light in that room had only been a cruelty, offering her torturous glimpses of what was being done to her.
But it was necessary, she told herself now, seated in a parlor of sorts while she watched the sunrise from a polished window. She had to protect the women of the house, her sisters-in-arms. It was a house of ‘prostitutes’, all under her wing, and every now and then, succumbing to the men that came at night was unavoidable. When a customer came who had not been sent by someone in need and would not take a drink or a smoke before they began, which was a rare occasion, someone had to take up the ugly job of pleasing him for real, instead of drugging him and lying about what had happened in the morning. And time after time, without fail, it was Victoire who did that dirty work. She would not have it any other way, her sisters had suffered enough.
Last night had been the first in a few months. She had been thrown around like a doll, like a possession, scratched and marked up until she was in tears and cast aside at the end of the night, trembling at the foot of the bed as the man had put on his fine clothes and left the Crimson Flower. It had been worse than usual, if that was possible.
Victoire sighed, dragging a quivering hand through her mass of tangled hair. Be strong… Chin up. The others will be awake soon. She straightened her back, adjusted her skirts despite the pain in her legs, fixed a serene expression to her slim features, and waited.
group
Aubrey had been awake for over an hour by then. Her dreams had woken her and had not let her go back to sleep.
She scoffed at the thought.
Dreams? No. These were not dreams. These were nightmares. Memories of what had been done to her.
It had been so long since she'd had the last dream. What was it… Two, three months ago? She had thought they were finally gone for good. But, of course, once she finally thought they were gone they always came back. Always.
(How's this?)
(It has begun. Yay!)
(Yay!
Autumn that's great)
(Oh, and everyone remember that it's really early in the morning)
group
(Awesome! Can't wait till this thing gets rolling!)
(Same!)
(bump)
((I just checked this. Imma write my post in a little bit. I'm so happy!!!!))
(Alright, can’t wait!)
(bump)
group
(sigh)
At night, sleep did not come easily to Kimiko, and even less so when Victoire had to convince a customer.
Her room was next to Victoire's, and therefore, she could hear the rough sounds of a bed rocking back and forth, guttural moaning and pained cries coming through the walls. She spent the night with her doors locked and a pillow shoved on her head in an attempt to muffle the noise.
It didn't work.
Finally, the morning light streamed through the white curtains, signaling the beginning of a new day. Kimiko got up slowly, rubbing her eyes to rid herself of the crust caked at the corners. A shadowed face looked back at her from the mirror- jagged edges of dark hair, two dark voids instead of eyes, and the shadows under them only accentuating her paleness.
A mockery of a smile stretched her thin lips, her eyes unmoving. Akuma. Demon.
(god i hate the mirror cliche why the fuck did i use it)
(@WritingGale, it’s great!)
group
(Now I just feel worse for Victoire… Gosh…)
(oof)
Nicole stumbled back into the house, drunk. She had taken in enough alcohol to whammy an ox, God only knew what it would have done to her. But soon, others would find out.
"Whoo, I just got laid, sisters! Nicolette in the house!" she proclaimed loudly to the room.
And it was true, she had spent the night with three men and a very lively young woman, committing unspeakable deeds. She should probably stay in touch with the woman. Strange, Nicolette thought, nobody's up. Wonder why?
She walked back up to her room, but bored, she got up and loudly knocked on Victoire's door. "Salutations, my friend! Wake, and revel in the new day!" she shouted.
(Victoire is in a little living room-type thing)
(and just be careful to keep the language realistic to the time period)
"I'm down here, Nicolette," Victoire called softly so as not to wake the others, though her friend's theatrical entrance had probably done the job. She couldn't help but wince at the woman's choice of words… how ironic that one of them had spent a fun night in bed and the other had experienced hell in a similar way. Rising to her feet, she took an experimental step forwards, a grimace of pain distorting her previously serene features. God… Her upper legs, still weak and aching, barely managed to carry her to the creaking stairs that led to the bedrooms.
"Well, I've been gone, but I suppose I didn't miss much. Anyways, food! Let us have breakfast, and let us feast!" Nicolette slung an arm around her friend's shoulder after running up to the woman. You could literally smell the alcohol on Nicole.
Victoire flinched away, her skin prickling from the contact. It was evident that Nicolette was drunk….. but she supposed an explanation to why she'd jerked away would prevent any intoxicated bawling. "Désolé, Nicolette… but, ah, no touching as of right now. S'il te plait." Carefully, she coaxed the woman into the kitchen, pulling up a chair. "Sit, you must be tired. And the others are sleeping, so…." She raised a silencing finger to her lips.
group
Aubrey sighed and glanced toward her door. It seemed Nicolette was home… And Victoire must have been up as well, if she was right in that being the other, much softer voice she had heard.
She may as well get up and get dressed, she supposed. Though, with the memories running through her mind, she definitely did not want to. But she must get up and face yet another day. The memories would fade again, as they always did; and then they would return again, as they always did.
With another sigh, Aubrey got to her feet and stepped over to her wardrobe. Today, she would wear a pale peach dress with an intricate pattern in slightly darker thread. It was one of her favorites, and it looked especially nice with her necklace and bracelet. Why she didn't wear it more often was a mystery… Maybe she jus didn't want to get it dirty?
Whatever the reason, she was wearing it today in spite of it. She walked over to the mirror and touched the small birthmark on her chest before she dressed herself. Her mother had always told her that any blemish to her skin should be hidden, so she had always worn dresses with very high necklines. Now, though, she wore necklines that were slightly below the birthmark. She actually liked it, no matter what her mother had told her, and she liked to let other people know it.
(Emi, great starter, but why is he with the Scarlet Order already?)
(Thanks. I feel like I explained this at some point. He sent a letter to the Order for a desperate search for somewhere to go and for a wing to hide under.)
