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Meanwhile, in Rinascita
Once upon a time there was a little fox character, long ago, whose player created this grand idea of fleshing out her character, and inviting others to join the the fleshing, through creative writing in forum posts. Then, it was called 'Meanwhile in Triskellian', but, obviously times and locations have changed, and so does the name.
In this space I invite you to use your imagination. Give your characters life, breath, depth, reasoning, history and a pulse that'll help you feel more them than yourself while you're playing them.
!! Please keep in mind, however, that this is not IC information that will be known to any character other than yourself, unless you portray it in game. People cannot take anything from these snippets of your character's life and use it in game, unless you roleplay sharing it with them. !!
And with that, I bid you happy writing! Creative writing is what this game is all about! Let's give this place, and our characters a beating heart!
For the record, your writing doesn't have to be grand, and all-encompassing. Start with baby steps if you must, but please start! Everyone starts somewhere, and that place is usually at the beginning. 🙂
~ Sunday, 7th of February, in the year of our Lord, 1601 A.D. - A farmhouse in the wilderness outside the Capitol walls of Rinascita -
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her new abode, Polgara surveys the work she’s completed over the last short months. Walls, half done. Flooring, finished. Her gaze sweeps over the main room with a half contented, half long-suffering sigh. ‘More work to complete before we reach the end, Ivy, but we’re nearly there.’, she thinks to herself.
What would father think of you making your home in such a quaint abode? A smile tugs at her wistful thought. He’d be proud I wasn’t mucking in the filth-lined streets, miring my soul with sinners and their excrement, is what he would think. “Nature is where we belong, Eidheann beag.” ‘Little Ivy’, as he was always so fond of calling her, even when she’d outgrown the smallest of her numerous brothers. “Nature is the heart of all, mo ghràidh dorcha. Replenishment rises from the land, alongside the ancient craobhan from which we earn our keep. In the end our earthly vessels return to nature, once God has deemed our souls worthy and we pass through Heaven’s gates.” His smile would light her soul with a warmth akin to no other, and yet he shared it so infrequently she knew to memorize the occurrence. “Dinna forget it, ken? But be sure, God is watching, lass. Get yer skin to kirk so it doesna sully your soul.” - Ages have passed, and she could still yet feel the warm brush of his lips against the white streak at her brow.
Tucking a bit more of the banana bread into her mouth and shaking off the memory, she skims her cooking area. Pans, bowls, and utensils are surely needed just there, or all of this eating sweets is going to add more to her waistline than a few measly pounds which make her look just a bit thicker. Eyes glazing, her mind wanders to an imagined image of her round as a cannon ball, puttering around the house. Knocking precious valuables over with her veritable bulge of a middle and behind. Eyes wide with the horror driven visage, she murmurs aloud ‘..utterly round..’, and flings the rest of the sweet bread through the door for the birds.
With a quiet groan she lifts her saw-dust covered body from newly finished floorboards, dusting leftover bread crumbs on her pants, “Past time to get back to it, Eidheann.” Stepping forward through the miniature cloud of dust she created by patting her pants, her fingers stretch as she readies herself at the temporary workspace she’s created for her heart’s new project, ‘Home’.