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Morpheaus

Time In Perspective
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Inheritance, such an intriguing word isn’t it. Some people spend their entire lives building something, while others spend their lives waiting to take it from them. Then there are those lucky enough for such things to fall into their laps. But seldom does anyone realize that gifts almost always come with strings attached; whether such strings are ever given the proverbial tug is another story. But it should always be kept in mind that everything comes with a price.

Thirteen years ago, in a small Virginia town, a group of young children learned the price of adventure and the penalty of ignorance. During the summer break between 5th and 6th grade a group of friends spent their days exploring the ancient forest surrounding their home town. It was the normal summer pass time for the kids in their home town, more of a town tradition at this point. As they grew older children tended to venture a little deeper into the forest, walking in the foot steps of their parents, grand parents, and even their great-great grand parents. For this particular pack of would be adventures things were very different. Stumbling upon an ancient and gnarled looking oak tree, the children were astonished to discover a door carved of ivory set into the surface of the great oak. Within this door they discovered a place of wonder, magic, and legend. These children had inadvertently found the ancient home of one those ancient master’s of magic, the home of a long dead wizard. For weeks they returned to oak tree and its ivory door, exploring the mysterious rooms within the tree, reading through ancient tomes filled with writings they could not grasp, and freely playing with artifacts old as the forest around them. It was like a fantasy or a dream and like all dreams it had to end.

After weeks of reading the children decided to attempt some magic of their own. Disaster struck, they tapped a power beyond imagining and they paid the price for their games. That night two of them were ripped from this world, taken to a place beyond mortal knowledge and abandoned. Another child stared into the heart of magic and rewarded with a mind shattered like glass. The children paid a heavy price that day and when they returned home none spoke of what had occurred. When the search began for their missing friends they knew nobody would believe such a nightmarish story and so they lied about everything. Months passed and the missing children were never found. Eventually the town moved on, as did the group of friends.

Thirteen years have passed, but none have forgotten what occurred on that warm summer night. Now the friends reunite in memory of the lost, but thirteen years ago those children unknowingly ignited a terrible chain of events and released a great evil into this world. Today they bear the burden of responsibility, whether they like it or not.


Ok now that I’ve got that beast off my back I’ll explain the rules.

1. This Role play is a bit more mature than usual. I’m going to try to bring as much human emotion to it as possible. I want everyone to just enjoy themselves though. Be yourself and just give me the best effort you can.
2. Don’t power play or god mode.
3. We start off as basically normal people. So keep that in mind when writing your template. Just be average, normal, none of that outrageous raised in a hidden monastery by warrior monks.
4. Romance is allowed and encouraged, but keep it PG-13
5. Do not kill or manipulate another player’s character without that player’s express permission.
6. Post Guilty Conscience in your template if you’ve read and understand these rules.
7. Have fun or I’ll kill myself.


Template

Name:
Age: (23-24 only)
Gender:
Appearance:
Personality:
Bio:
Favorite Color:
 

call_me_canada

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Information Based on Last Known Appearance

Answers to the name Isabella (Bella) Crix
Age: 11
Gender: female
Appearance: Bella had always been rather a sight for sore-eyes up until she had entered middle school. Her outward appearance had never meant all too much to her, her hair often going unbrushed and clothes as far away from matching as you could imagine. She now at least kept her hair in a neat and orderly fashion, though her dress attire had not changed much. She stuck out like a sore thumb, but why would she let a little thing like that bother her.

Starting off her middle school career she was around 4 foot 8 inches, a norm at least for her class at the time. Her body had always been rather thin but was far from being weak and frail. Her once long light brown hair had been chopped to rested a few inches above her shoulders, a hair style she preferred greatly now because it didn’t require as much attention. Her bright green eyes had always stood out against her paler skin, even though she spent most of her time outdoors a tan was near impossible for her to get, that had only a few freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

Personality: In her younger years she had always tried to give off the appearance that she was bold and tough but quickly gave up on this as the years went by. Being a very quirky person, eccentricity and hyperactivity followed her almost everywhere she went. Bella was always the one that could make situations better or at least die trying. Though she had grown up in the presence of boys mostly she was still quite the softy and very much in touch with her emotions. Bella was usually never found with a guilty conscience because her feelings were spoken outloud and she kept little to herself.

Bio: Nothing had ever marked Bella as quite the normal child when she was younger. Since as far back as pre-school she had been an active child with veracious curiosity that her parents feared might lead her to trouble one day. Having grown up in a family in she was the youngest of three kids she had looked up to her two older brothers Michael and Tim with the utmost respect. Tim was the middle child being only 2 years older then Bella while Michael was 4 years above her. She wanted nothing more then to fit in with her brothers and their friends, never shy to try to butt into whatever they found themselves doing.

Living under the influence of her two brothers led her to have more relationships with boys than girls, something that she didn’t mind at all. Bella had found most of the girls that had been in school with her since the beginning to be rather dull and not willing to go on any adventures of sorts.

As she grew up her curiosity continued to flourish in both her school work and in regular life. Though at such an age intelligence was hard to determine, Bella was enrolled in all the advanced classes offered to 6th graders at her middle school upon entering. Her parents had high hopes for her and believed that she would be able to achieve anything she set her mind to, but doesn’t every parent believe that?

During her life her friends had meant more then the world to her and she couldn’t have imagined what things would be like without them. School days were passed with them by her side, helping her to sometimes make it through the dull classes, and weekends were always full of adventures. The summer, especially, was always full of new surprises and invented games that would entertain their small group for long periods of times, but one summer would stand out in the minds of everyone for the rest of their lives.

When the discovery of the tree and its treasures had been made Bella was quick to jump at this new opportunity that had been given to them. This was the real adventure that she had always longed to share with her friends, not just some simple game that used the imagination. This was all real. All of their curiosity and eagerness proved fatal that one night that they decided to try some of the magic on their own. Bella was lost that night, no one knowing exactly what happened to her, leaving her family in a state of despair. To this day no one has even caught a glimpse of the once Isabelle Crix.

Favorite Color: periwinkle blue
 
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Seirio

Mr. Twister
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Guilty Conscience can sometimes be a good thing. <_< >_> Ive become a much more
experianced RPer.Welcome back Morph.Ill be sure not to have fun after what you put :thumbsup:

Name: Kito

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: Long black hair past his back,which he ties inorder to keep together.Some hair also covers his face abit.He usualy wears a plain,clear,dark,crimson,red shirt and some blue jeans that have open holes in them that semmed like they came from knife cuts.Kito has brown eyes on a normal face.He stands to about 6'6 and has a scar on his left cheek(which he will reveal why later).Kito has a white belt on him that has several small packs on it,containing common tools like a knife or a screw driver.

Personality: He is a cool,calm,and wise person that,most of the time,talks only when he is spoken to.His eyes have a hint of tiredness and abit of sorrow but those dont show much.He is positive most of the time.Whenever his friends are in trouble,he will bail them out.Kito is also strongwilled and pretty courages,or to some people,suicidal.Suicidal as in he is willing to do anything in order to help his friends.

Bio: Kito is a normal kid with a loveing family,composed of a mother,father,and brother.He goes to school and passed all of it.He is also physicaly fit so that he can beat up other kids when they bully other children.His mom and dad were killed in a car accident,he was left alone with his brother.They had all the money that belonged to their parents,so they used it when they need food,while at the same time,attended school.A year after his parents death,when Kito was 8,his brother fell into an illness and died soon after that,but happily and was positive when he died.Kito was alone so he decided to live in an apartment since its easier to do things like paying bills and such.All these events built him up to be strong.

Kito still had friends and joined them in the annual events of going into the forest.Infact,he has been doing it for awhile.They all explored the creepy woods for a long time until they discovered a big old tree that also seemed like a house.They entered it and after alittle exploring,discovered there were magical things insider it.One day,the friends decided to attempt some magic themselves.The results were disasterous.Two friends had dissapeared,and one greatly changed.Kito and the rest decided never to mention the event.They continued telling lies about the missing children for awhile.Eventually everyone moved on.

It has been 13 years since the incident,and Kito has grown into a mature adult.He changed greatly but his personality remained them same.The incident still haunts him and the others who were at the old tree house,and soon...it will come back to bite us because of it.

Favorite Color: Crimson
 

GuardianOfHearts

Darkrooms and safelights
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{ Morph, how can you post this without a guilty conscious when you didn't give me a heads-up that you were actually returning from the mists of obscurity and creating a new role-play! }


Name: Morgan Andenos [also known as Morgan le Fay]

Age: Twenty-three

Gender: Female

Appearance: Morgan stands just shy of 5'7, of the lean type. She has rather pale skin, light enough so that it seems to take on a bluish hint in the dark. Her cheeks likewise lack in any rosy complexion, and her lips are just an unobstrusive pink. She has rippling sable hair that reaches a few inches past her shoulders, kept down for the most part with a few of the more annoying strands clipped back out of her face. The only real color she possesses is in her big eyes, a deep dark blue.

Personality: Morgan has always been a reserved individual, keeping her distance and observing from afar. It takes someone truly unique to get her to open up, more so to become her friend. For all her seriousness, she's really young at heart, full of dreams and whimsy ... but she doesn't show anyone her heart.

Despite her own nature, she doesn't like to see others down and is constantly a source of hope and encouragement, being naturally optimistic. Full of contradictions, she's actually rather bold, and will step out of the shadows to stand up for herself or others and speak her own mind if need be. Mistaking her quietness for timidity is a big mistake, and she has a sharp tongue to prove it. If you deserve it, that is; otherwise, she's rather compassionate.

Bio: Morgan had a bit of a rough life as a young child. She lived in six different places for the first eight years of her life, and consequently, it was always hard for her to make friends. Everytime she adjusted to one home, her family would be off and moving again.

All the moving gave her a certain independence, meaning, that she had no trouble going off on her own and occupying herself in the lack of potential playmates. This caused her imagination to develop from a young age, but her social skills suffered. In the rare chances when she did have the option to make a friend, Morgan usually ended up by herself again, content with her expansive fantasies.

Until they finally settled down in Virgina, she had never had a real friend, let alone the group she became close to. Shell-shocked for only a short time, she quickly adjusted to this previously unknown reward of life, becoming a little more talkative now that she had someone to talk to, and certainly brighter in the personality sense.

Her new friends didn't kill her gift for imagination, however; in fact, they only enhanced it, more so during the summer when they discorvered the extraordinary tree in the old woods. Morgan's adventerous side revelled in the experience, even while her more practical side remained skeptical of all this good fortune.

In the end, the shadow of her thoughts was right. Disaster struck as a result of their foolishness. Morgan lost three of her best friends.

For a girl who had been deprived for most of her life, the gift of friendship had been almost unbearably sweet; this new loss shattered her spirit for a while. She never cried, or never let anyone see her cry, but she was unnaturally silent for a while. Her parents were naturally worried, and sent her to counseling. Only once did she speak during her sessions.

"It's terribly unhealthy to keep things bottled up. In fact, it's downright dangerous, Morgan," the therapist had said, some her her exasperation creeping into her voice as this was the ninth session they'd had and her patient hady et to say a word.

Morgan slowly turned to look at her, calm and cool. In that same voice, she said, "It's more dangerous to let what I have inside me out, and no one, least of all you, should see it."


That was the last time she went.

But Morgan was still a child, and time is kindly to children. Soon enough she was almost back to her normal self. Throughout her withdrawel, she had still kept up with her studies in school, throwing herself into it impersonally and excelling. That, along with her old smiles returning, lessened the stress on her parents.

Something had still changed though. Her memory of the terrible event receeded into her subconscious, until she could barely recall anything beyond the fact that her two friends had gone missing and one other had lost their mind. All thoughts of the event, magic and everything, faded.

Her parents never suspected she was suffering from repressed memories, for they knew exactly the same thing she did by now, having never been told of what the children found in the woods. And certainly, they never spoke of it, for fear that Morgan would grow depressed again.

Time passed. The only blight on Morgan's life was her new insomnia; she'd had trouble sleeping ever since the accident. The few hours she did get rest were constantly plagued by the memories she had forgotten and other strange things. But Morgan never remembered her dreams.

These variables, combined with her intelligence and natural gift for creativity, proved to have positive outcomes. When she was eighteen, she wrote a fantasy book about children who become lost in a magical forest by their home, never suspecting that it was based on actual events. By the time she was nineteen, her book had become a bestseller.

Since then, she's been writing other books, mostly short stories, under the pen name Morgan le Fay.

Favorite Color: Dusky sea-purple.
 
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Eikre

W.S.N.B.M./O.N.B.P.
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Bit late, but hey, better late than never...My Guilty Conscience tells me curling regionals this weekend are going to be rough...

Name: Calvin Kiske

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: So it changed alot, deal with it, Dial-up users beware

Personality: Usually a light-hearted individual, through almost any situation,Calvin has the caring compassion to be optimistic about most situations. A Team player through and through, Calvin is willing to put everything on the line to see his friends make it through their issues...of course that usually means throwing his own schedule and life out the window to be in a helping position, but Calvin would have it no other way.

Bio: Well, let's just say Calvin grew up a military brat. He was born in Canada to a normal family, though his dad happened to be in the military. This meant that he got to be shipped around somewhat when his dad was younger. Through the inbred personality in Calvin, he made it through okay at first, and gradually got better. When Calvin was ten, his dad was on exchange with the American Navy in Norfolk, Virginia.

That's about the time when things get to go bad, right? When he first met the friends that he would attempt the magic within the forest. Not much is remembered within this time...things went awry. Calvin fell into a state of lapses, going beyond "zoning out" a lot of times, falling in and out of a state of which some would call nirvana, which some would call getting high, what some would call a level of consciousness thought previously impossible.

After coming back to Canada a year after the incident, Calvin had less and less of these moments, although remnants of the magic remained. For example, when Calvin joined Air Cadets, whenever he banged for a drill movement, is was consistently the sound of an 8-gauge shotgun. He excelled in music class, instantly making incredible sound with whatever instrument he was given. All of these things like this were connected by sound. Speaking of Air Cadets, within the 5-year period he was enrolled, he turned out to become a phenomenal cadet, rising to Warrant Officer First Class by the end of his cadet career. His school grades were about average, with his major skills showing up in the Arts, consisting of Music, Litterary, and Visually. For his first job he joined the military reserves for two years, while producing a graphic novella by the name of "The Exodus", a cyber-punk, sci-fi kind of thing.

But now, a full thirteen years after the incident in the tree house, that summer night, Calvin gains a restlessness that draws him back to Virginia,knowing nothing of the times ahead....but good or for bad, Calvin's there right now in Virginia, trying to find that damn tree house again.

Favorite Color: A tie between a deeply saturated navy blue, and a bright, majestic, sky blue.
 
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Morpheaus

Time In Perspective
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I'm not back, not for RPing anyway. I have personal reasons for creating this RP. Though I admit, I'm glad you've all joined. I'll be starting this sometime tomorrow.
 

MESMAR_RISING

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Recently things haven't been going so well in my day to day life, and I've been looking for some sort of distraction. Anyways, this post is simply to reserve my spot; I'll edit my character into this post by Tuesday at the latest unless something happens again in my life that requires my attention.

I would post my character now, but you get somewhat busy when you were raised in a hidden monastery by warrior monks.

...ya, I'm tired.
 

Seirio

Mr. Twister
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....glad that im in?I hardly new ya,and the last RP I was in with you,you threw me out without reason,even though I made absolutly no errors.Anyways ya,lets get on with the RP.
 

Alaude Drenxta

\+The Devil's+/ .{Advocate}.
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Morph, hello there. =P
I hear April's been talking to you recently, never quite paid enough attention to see that you were still around, guess I may have a guilty conscience that I haven't spoken to yah in a while, but all the same, you can rest I'll play a part in this is you'll have me. :p
Not to worry, I don't like putting off my templates, else I'll never finish them.

Name: Andrew Lesna
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Personality: Andrew tends to be very...well....blunt. Honesty is in his eyes a strong virtue, not something to be taken lightly, and in the eyes of others one he takes just a bit too seriously. A simple and common phrase could easily sum him up, brutally honest. He'll tell you how it is, simple and plain. That is, he so wishes it. He can be sensitive, kind, and devious if he'd rather it, and often times he is when that spark of ethics and morality comes over him, or when he wants something. He is very sly and deliberate in his actions, and though often seen as a bit anal he is relaxed in his excessiveness, a descriptive oxymoron that few people understand until they meet and get to know him.

Bio: From even a tender young age, Andrew showed himself to be a corporate demon. His brutality and strict outwardness always seemed to carry a sense of tact, giving others the feeling his true intentions were better hidden than he allowed them to beleive. Andrew knew full well the mark and range of ability held by a statistic, and he was quite determined not to become one.

All the way up until he turned 12 years old, Andrew lived in Ashbury, a quiet yet peaceful life with the friends he'd grown up with. However, the chaos that they had wrought that day out in the forest had struck a nerve in his pulse, forever scaring his sense of civility and human compassion. It was as if he were possessed by something rude and cruel at times, and it was worse at times when the thought of what happened was brought to his mind. This trauma, compounded upon his immense enterprising genius, led to his imminent departure to Brechler's Institute For American Leaders.

Shipped off from his home in Ashbury Virginia, he landed himself in a strict and guided private school outside the hustle and bustle of New York on Manhattan Island. Here, he learned more than just the skills and knowledge to become powerful and well known, he learned about PEOPLE. It was not in the school that he learned the most, however. Andrew was a big frequenter of skipping classes and wandering around Manhattan, dressed as a vagrant. This disguise was both to ward off muggers and truant officers, or just any nosy bastard who wanted to stick his nose in someone else's mess.

He learned the in's and out's of running a city, a business, and a worldwide corporation by eavesdropping on conversations around him, and nosing through busy, bathroom attending men and women's briefcases. At the age of 16, he was already a master of the stock system, and yet still he waited.

From gossipping women and enraged men, did he learn the ways that the human mind worked, and the details of what was and was NOT succesful ways to interact with people in a largely professional environment.

It seemed that on those 10 years he spent at the school, from the age of 9 to 19, he had become an efficient machine, and his great ambition would be set into motion. Now, began the NEXT ten years of his life, ne'er did he imagine in the following four years he'd become head of a multi-national corporation, ready to retire by the age of 35. Working as a waiter in numerous restaurants across the city, he drew up a network of connections in the enterprising business, and built himself up brick by brick.

Even less, might he expect what the future would hold for him, on the only vacation he'd taken since his business had begun. Hard pressure by his subordinates to take some time away from work led him to flee from the stressful environment, to once more indulge in that adventurous wandering spirit he embraced in his youth.

Yet.....where the hell would he even GO?

Favorite Color: A deep crimson red
 
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Valentine

almost human.
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Allo, allo. How are you, Morph? Hope this'll suffice.

------

Oh dear, looks like I've got myself a Guilty Conscience.

Name- Amalia Creager

Age- 23

Gender- Female

Appearance- http://www.rasputina.com/images/newBiog_picMelora.jpg

Personality- Her heart alone can set the world on fire. She loves with ease, and she is naturally sensational. She's always looking for the best and new in things, she demands complete honestly, and she gives nothing less. Generous to a fault, she doesn't judge people and hates to be judged. However, even with her tendancy to be warm and sensitive, it doesn't mean she won't have her moments where she'll becomes selfish and strung up on what she wants. Despite this, she has a strong mind with an ego to match, and there are not many obstacles she can come over.

Bio- Amalia, or, Amy as she has been called, moved from Kansas to Virginia at 7, after her parents vicious divorce and battle for custody of her and her brother. The result? Her prodigy brother became her rich mother's, and Amalia became her drunk of a father's. Seeking refuge from the everyday, Amalia would daily visit the woods in her back yard where she forged her title of 'Queen of Amyland'.

School and the neighborhood in general, however, was an entirely different story. Absorbed in her own fantasy world and severely introverted, Amalia found herself shunned by her classmates and without a friend. She would later fall into a deep depression, and would begin to cut herself at age 11.

But her suffering would not end there. As you might expect, Amalia was bullied as well. She would often go home with cuts and bruises showcasing themselves upon her face, her battle scars from a recent tussle with the schoolyard bitch. Her grades fell; she truley was a brilliant little girl, but brilliance can be outshone by lonliness often. Eventually, the remnants of her life fell to pieces themselves, and Amalia became a runaway, stealing into the woods at night and taking refuge in a cave.

Then, the day came when Amalia would meet the 'others'. People like her; outcasts, loners, failures. They would form a strong bond, and together delve into a world of magic. Little did they know then that their 'adventure' would end in a fiery disaster.

Amalia would eventually come into the care of a local orphanage. Put into foster care at 13, she found a new family, one that truley loved her. With their help and support, she was able to go back to school, and eventually graduate from New York University with a degree in Journalism. With an oncoming career as a writer for a game review magasin and an aspiring Wiccan, Amalia once again returns to the town where it all started. For the anniversay, she would remind herself. The anniversary of the day when they all met, and the beginning of the end.


Favorite Color: An elegant, mermaid green.
 
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Morpheaus

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Hmm, after a hard at school, work, and practice, I'm in desperate need of sleep. Since a few of you(Catherine and David) haven't finished your profiles, and I'm tired, this RP will be started sometime Wednesday evening. I hope that is acceptable.

...If you really have a problem with it, tell Canada, she's the one making me go to bed. I can only do what the boss tells me to do.
 

Lord of Chaos

Once more 'round the room we waltz.
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OOC: You bastard... you should definitely have a guilty conscience about not inviting me, or even telling me. Either way though, I'm in on this one. Sounds great.


Name: Isaac Xellanier (Pronounced Zel-lan-yur)

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y211/Valyon/033.jpg

Personality: Isaac is, at heart, an introverted bookworm. He usually keeps his thoughts to himself, but opens up when he feels it is necessary. He always seems to be carrying a book, or pondering something new. He also has a quote for almost any situation, and is very, very intelligent. His I.Q. is supposedly well into the 200's, but, he never really puts that out. For some reason, he feels mistreated, which may have something to do with the fact he was not the favorite kid out of the town when he was smaller... He didn't really even gain a friend till... the incident.

Bio: Isaac came to the small town when he was at the tender young age of four. Straight off the bat, he ran into problems. Other kids would bother him, and pick on him, because he was such a bookworm, and always kept to himself. He never really thought much of it -- he had moved around quite a bit, even for someone so young. The reason why? His father was something of a Historian/Treasure Hunter. He had moved to the area with his son and his wife because of certain... rumors.

Whatever the case, Isaac soon found himself at the brunt of many bullyings. When he turned six, he finally decided to start to turn things around for himself. He asked his dad to teach him Akido, and he did. Sure, he was no master, but he learned how well the applied physics of energy and weight could come into handy. The next bully that attacked him, ended up hung over a rock.

After that, no one really bothered Isaac. He kept to himself, but watched others. He really wanted to play with them, and wanted friends, but he was afraid he'd get attacked again. So he always kept his distance, and just played around and goofed off and read to and by himself. This continued, until he was 11.

He finally had made what you would call, "friends", with some other kids. It was these kids that invited him to go along out into the woods. Out in those woods... he saw something... and experienced something that, seemed good at first, but quickly turned around. He would never forget that horrible afternoon. It would be burned into his memories forever.

After that, Isaac slowly started adjusting, especially with his new friends. Now, he meets on the anniversary, a graduated Theologists and "Treasure Hunter" of sorts himself... along with some other interesting hobbies.


Favorite Color: Black

Editing after class.
 
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call_me_canada

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OOC: I take not blame for Morph's laziness =P he could've written that post way earlier. . . .

ello LoC, long time no see. cant wait for this to start =)
 

Morpheaus

Time In Perspective
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A low whine filled Portland’s ears for the third time in two minutes. A line across his forehead deepened into a frown as he attempted to tune the sound out. The heart-melting sound continued on for another minute before giving way to silence once more. A satisfied smirk touched his lips then; the expression was quickly dispelled by a glance at the reflection in his computer screen. Portland could barely stand to look at his own image these days. Young as he was, the long hours had put a slightly haunted quality to his features; the result of two hours of sleep every night, and four pots of coffee a day.

Tickling sensations across the bottom of his elbow caught his attention, forcing him to finally turn his grey away from the screen, and acknowledge the friendly looking German shepherd running its tongue across his skin.

“Boring as it is, the paper work needs to get done, or I don’t get paid, and that means you don’t eat,” he mumbled in a matter of fact tone. “Give me another hour, and then we can head out, Alvin.”

Alvin uttered a low reply that sounded startling close to a sigh of disappointment. Leaning over to scratch his furry partner’s ears, Portland gave a sigh of his own. Being a deputy had turned out to be much more interesting than being a sheriff. He supposed that was because the last sheriff was over seventy years old, and could barely see well enough to drive himself home at night—let alone go on patrol—which meant that the deputy did nearly all leg-work. Since the old sheriff’s passing in October, Portland found himself prompted into a life of mind numbing and unending paperwork. Patrol usually took place from late night to early morning, but he’d spent the last three days attending to paper work.
He was overdoing it, and he knew it. Could he be blamed for it though? Old friends were coming home—if they still thought of the Ashbury as home-for the first time in five years; Portland just wanted to impress them. Admitting that to himself made him feel childish, but it was the truth. Calvin and Morgan were successful writers, Andrew’d turned himself into a billionaire, and the others...he’d heard rumors from his parents of success after success. Out of the six of them, he was the only one to remain in town, five years ago he hadn’t regretted the decision, but now all them were...Well, larger than life. In comparison, he couldn’t help feeling like a failure.

“Hell with it,” he said, shoving himself away from the desk. “Al, let’s head into town for some pie.”

Alvin barked with delight as Portland put his hat on and strode out the door. Neither of them acknowledged or even seemed to notice the unnaturally cold night as they drove into town.
 

Lord of Chaos

Once more 'round the room we waltz.
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The plane trip had taken so long. At least, it seemed that way. Never had he been a trip that lasted that long. It brought back memories of an old joke about when going in a plane, be careful, because there were time warps. Of course, it was just a muddle some crackpot theory that had been disprovened long ago and was now just nothing more than a silly myth. Myths weren't real, they hadn't been, and they wouldn't be, ever.

What about the fact that there's a grain of truth in every myth?

No, that wasn't possible. Sure, the beginning of most myths did come from some kind of skewed out, but true, story of some sort. That didn't mean that ended up that way. It was kind of a linguistics and symantics thing; a story could digress when interpreted by each human. This was how all those ugly rumors got started around small towns and such, and the whole thing about "gossip".

Is magic a myth?

"Shut up!", came a yell from Isaac's mouth. He snapped back into reality, as if he had been in a daydream of some sort. He felt like he had been since he left his last place of residence and began travel back... there.

At any rate, he looked around at all the faces staring at him. He remembered that he was on a bus headed towards his old hometown. He had taken the red-eye flight from Seattle to Chicago to the closest city that took jumbo jets. Ever since then he had been riding on a bus. It was slightly crowded, and it almost made Isaac feel uneasy... was that why he had started daydreaming? Or would it be nightdreaming? In any case, he had taken himself out of the situation. He heard the driver yell as they reached their next destination.

"Ashbury!"

He got up and grabbed his stuff, and got off the bus. Afterwards he just stood there a moment, as the bus hauled off behind him, onto its next darkened location. It seemed like... it had been forever since he had visited this place. He remembered certain aspects... not a whole lot had changed about it, but there were some significant things done. He sighed a moment as he pulled out his new iPhone and dialed up Portland. "... Portland, it's me... Isaac. I'm back in town. Can you come give me a ride to my old place or something? Thanks. I'll be waiting at the bus station." He had found Portland's voice mail. It had rung all five times, so he knew that he was probably just driving or something.

...

Isaac froze.

For a moment, it seemed as if something...strangely familiar, yet sinisterly alien had passed over him, or was near there or something. He just shook it off after a moment -- it had to be something to do with the fact of the memories this place brought back. After a deep sigh of relief, Isaac went over and sat on the bench, to await Portland.
 

Swag

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Dman, I so missed this. Late Entry FTW? My Guilty Conscience tells me you'll say no though...
 

Valentine

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The Conway bus bounced over a speed bump once more, violently shaking Amalia from her light sleep. Groggily forcing her tired eyes open, one hand moved up to rub crusty sleep from her eyes as the other pulled her Duffel bag from the floor of the bus. She sighed heavily, then yawned lazily, and finally unzipped the bag and pulled out a mirror, observing the familiar girl staring back at her. Thin lips, high cheek bones, bleach blonde hair, and a pair of deep set blue eyes that showed not only years of wisdom but also the signs of old age. A few more years, and she'd be pushing thirty. She shivered at the thought, then silently scolded herself for her vanity.

"Isaac...Portland...it sure as hell's been more than a while."

Nostalgia formed a lump in her throat as she thought back to the good 'ol days. A few tears even pooled at the crease between her eye and skin, cascading down her cheek. She shoved the memories to the corner of her mind, and whiped away the tears before returning the mirror to it's place in the Duffel bag. She narrowed her eyes, as if contemplating something, then began rummaging through the contents of the bag.

A rainbow scarf. Her white Sprint Katana. Her iPod. A copy of GameInformer. A copy of The Practical Wiccan: A Basic Guide to the Aspiring Witch. Her glasses, which she often wore as little as possible. And a few sets of clothes. She chewed on her bottom lip as the bus slowly wheeled to a stop. This was it. She was truley returning to the place where it all started. Choking down thoughts of regret, she zipped the bag back up, slung it over her shoulder, clasped the pentacle hanging from her neck, and prepared herself.

"Last stop. Everybody off."

Everybody, Amalia said to herself silently. Guess I'm everybody.. The bus had been empty for a while now, to be truthful. Letting out another deep sigh, she stood up, and looked herself over in the window. A green leather jacket. A pair of faded blue jeans. A mint and white double shirt. And the same tired expression.

"This is me," she said. The driver perked up. "Hey lady! You gettin' off or what?" Quickly, she turned, almost tripping over herself. "Coming!" Bracing herself, Amalia tightened her grip on her pentacle and hurried off the Conway, out onto the lonely street. A couple of feet away, a tall figure sat on a bench. She couldn't make out his face, but he seemed innocent enough not to try and kill her like she'd seen in those mindless Lifetime rape-kill-detective-punches-a-punching-bag-at-a-gym movies. She pulled her cellphone from the Duffel bag, sat down next to the man, and dialed up Portland's number. There was no answer, so she decided to leave a message. "Hey there, stranger. It's me, Amy. Listen, I just got in and I'm at the busstop, so try and pick me up when you've got the time, 'kay? Bye." She pressed End, and then leaned back into the bench and closed her eyes. Sleep time.
 

GuardianOfHearts

Darkrooms and safelights
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{ Has anyone else read IT by Stephen King ... ? Because this is just like what happened in that book. }


Morgan was irritated ... and yet amused. She was (hopefully) nearing the end of an interview with an obviously ambitious, overeager reporter who sat opposite her. Never one to fidget much, she nevertheless found herself interlocking and unlocking her fingers methodically in her lap, as though to vent out her annoyance with childish gestures.

"So, your first book, A Walk Through Never. You were really eighteen when you started writing it?"

That was one thing Morgan didn't like about the bottle-blonde reporter: she had the repetitive habit of asking the obvious, as though she couldn't finish a statement without a superfluous question. It specifically said on nearly every book cover when exactly she had started.

But she was determined not to let her soft smile or serene composure flicker. Instead, she nodded.

"Yes. I was just nearing the end of my final year in high school. It was almost a hobby- but I took my work with me to college and finished it by the New Year. It was only then that what I had done really hit me. By spring, I had found my publisher." Always give them more information than they originally asked for; they asked less afterwards.

The reporter's pen skipped across her clipboard as she scribbled down notes. Before she had even finished, she fired another query: "And this was only your first book? Out of six, yes?"

Morgan truly did admire the speed at which the older woman could coherently talk.

"Yes. I hadn't really considered writing as a career before then, but as you can see, I've been quite busy the past four years."

"Four years? You're only twenty-three?"

Morgan clasped her hands to still their movements.

"I'll be twenty-four very soon."

"Oh, my. You're quite young, aren't you?"

The reporter's tone had altered to an almost condescending level, like an adult benignly amused at a preschooler's scribbles. Morgan was disgusted more at her own sudden petulance than anything else, but she quickly smothered it. She knew how to handle this.

Leaning forward, Morgan plucked her glass of iced tea (fine crystal it was, too) from the coffee table and settled back comfortably on her pillows, gently tipping the glass to her lips for a sip. Without putting it down, she glanced back over at the older woman, her tone one of measured casualty.

"Well, yes, I'm sure I must be much younger than all of the ... other writers you've interviewed," she answered, putting emphasis in her pause.

She had the very immature satisfaction in seeing the blonde duck her head back down to her clipboard to scribble down something else, trying to appear industrious. Morgan had assumed (and now she knew for sure) that the reporter had never before interviewed anyone with the same level of fame.

Yes, it was mean, but what the hell. This was becoming old.

"Well," she began, then seemed to change tack, chagrin slowing her usual rapid-fire words. "Well, I suppose that's it! Yes? Excellent, excellent, thank you for your time...." Again the reporter hesitated, obviously at a loss at what name to address Morgan with. Morgan le Fay, after all, was just a pen name. Only her friends and family knew her true surname.

"It was my pleasure," Morgan lied through her teeth, saving the woman from any more awkward silence with a surge of pity. She reached out to shake hands as she stood up and said her goodbyes, sighing in relief as she watched the reporter walk out the door. Her home was her own again.

Yawning, Morgan turned to look at the clock, seeing that she had little over an hour until her flight. It was time for her to go as well.

Morgan made her way to the sliding glass door that led to her expansive backyard, leaning out only halfway. "Astarte! C'mere Astarte!" Her voice rolled over the wide garden and hit the woods, but it didn't have to go very far. From the far end of the porch railing peeked a shaggy white head, and a moment later, Morgan's white German shepard scrabbled up the stairs and crashed into her human friend, all wiggling hindquarters and affectionate licks.

"Stop- stop! Inside, 'Star, get inside." She half-hauled the big dog over the threshold before swiftly closing the door. Astarte tried to hamper her attempts to make it to her bedroom by rearing up, tongue lolling. Even after being pushed off multiple times, she still trotted at Morgan's side expectantly.

"No, Astarte, you're not coming with me," she soberly tried to explain to her cream-colored companion. Astarte grinned in the way only dogs can. "No," she said firmly, retrieving her bag from its spot on her bed. She had packed it last night. "No, you're staying here. I can't take you this time. Alanna will come over once a day until I come back."

For all her exuberance, Astarte understood the word no. She nudged one of Morgan's hands and butt her muzzle against her hip, demanding a good neck-scratch to make up for the atrocity of leaving her behind. Morgan complied, running her fingers through the dog's thick mane of fur before ending with a pat on the head.

Her bag slung over one shoulder, Morgan locked up her house and left for the airport.


A few hours later, Morgan was curled up in her first-class seat, all but asleep as the plane made it's way from the midwest to the east coast. As most minds do in that not-quite-dreaming state, hers was beginning to wander, her thoughts twisting around themselves in strange ways.

She was thinking of Ashbury, of her friends. How she had been overjoyed after moving there, and heartbroken after ... after ... what? What, exactly, had happened?

She didn't usually think about the circumstances pertaining to her friends' disappearances. Not consciously; it just never entered her mind. But now, sleep and the mild disorientation of crossing time zones were bringing down her barriers.

Morgan shivered suddenly, despite the blanket wrapped around her. Memories were trickling through her half-formed thoughts, so subtly that the levels which originally repressed her memories were not alarmed.

Light, color, and noise; a scent of evening summer air and the musty smell of old books dominated her senses. For a moment, she was almost there-

Morgan opened her blue eyes, a half-formed word had parting her lips. But it was gone now. She tried desperately to reach the feelings and images that were now suddenly vague as they slipped away, until she couldn't remember what she had been thinking about at all.

Frustrated, Morgan glared out the window and locked her jaw. She never remembered her dreams, but they seemed so important. At the very least, interesting. She sighed in resignation, shifting in her seat as the captain announced that they had fifteen minutes until landing.

Nearly five thousand miles and fives years back in time.
 

Seirio

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ooc: Hey Morph,I have recieved some inconvienance in my life that I need to take care of.That means im dropping out of this RP.See ya all later.
 
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