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Post by Tristesse on November 3rd 2013, 10:51 am

All rights reserved under the creative commons act.

Little known to a lot of you, when I first started RPing here, I was looking for an outlet. I was looking for a way to vent my disturbingly overwhelming emotions into something healthy, and passionate, and as a result there was quite a lot of that projecting onto Terradagger.

I was dealing with an abusive relationship that was never actually an official relationship. My friends were having a bout of psychotic depression, sharing among them the same delusions, leaving me clueless because I didn't hallucinate. It caused a lot of problems, and so my presence here was really heavily emotionally charged, for the most part with a negative valence.

I wrote on the side with the idea of being published then, but I decided not to go forward with it, deciding that I needed more seasoning as a young author. School was catching up with me too.

Now that I'm a little bit older, and a little bit wiser, I've looked back on those years and I have seen 2009-2011 as the most fundamentally instrumental years at creating who I am today. Those years, with tribulation and with happiness, are the very foundation that I am. Many people know about how suicidal I was, in incomplete attempts and all in those times, few people knew of the cause, the flawed relationship, and even less people know about the darkness that my friends were fighting in their own minds. Even fewer, only three people, know of my adventures here and my escape to this dream world. They know that I created a character named Terradagger with red hair and green eyes and tan skin. They know that I bought contacts and dyed and cut my hair and tanned so that I would emulate that image of the person I confided my darkness in. They know that this is my refuge.

So, it only seems fitting that when I revisit the idea of writing, I also include this world, along with the world of that delusion that was so overwhelmingly real, and astonishingly nonexistent. So, I leave you with a vague prologue, only a couple pages long, with characters (loosely) based on some of those I interacted with here.

" The cold around them was strange, every chill reminding them of their reality, of their ethereal plane, and of the nothingness that was swarming around them. He looked up, the one in the middle, with his robe of gray tight around his torso, loosening as it go to his hips, allowing the hem of the skirt of the robe to fall around his ankles loosely. He had a hood drawn around his face, hanging so low over his eyes that it was doubtful he could see.

He didn’t need to see, though. The magic of it was that in this dark place, touch intensified. At the loss of one sense, the other became so much stronger that it seemed like the first sense was useless in the first place. All the same, he drew back his hood to reveal scarlet hair and green eyes. His complexion was fair, his hair obviously treated. His eyebrows were dark and his look was fierce, something stern and powerful. It was a strange kind of beauty, one that was atypical.

Still, he wasn’t very old, and one could tell that only in his features. He was probably no older than sixteen, something not betrayed by his tone, as he opened his lips and asked to the air, “When shall you be arriving?”

In response, a pillar of darkness opened to his left, and there, through the darkness, came a figure with short white hair. He wasn’t too old, either, but definitely in his twenties. He stepped through the darkness wearing a royal regalia, Victorian and almost nautical. His coat was buttoned by loose thread and he had curtails, long and flowing as though moved by phantasms following at every fall of his foot. His eyes were a burning brown, fierce and powerful. His skin olive and smooth, save for the scar on his neck, running up to his jawbone from his collarbone

“I shouldn’t have kept you waiting, my prince.”

“Don’t worry. I’m only prince over fifty-two. A small state. Practically not even real,” he said with a glimmer in his green eyes, finally betraying his age.

“So, do you know when she’ll be joining us?”

“Well, knowing her, she’s just waiting to make a dramatic appearance. I’m overly tired of it,”

With miraculous timing, another portal opened but this portal wasn’t that of darkness, except a blue color that seemed translucent. It was rushing so quickly, twisting and turning, that the edges turned to white, furious. As the pillar widened, the water slowed and started to reveal the woman that was stepping through it wearing armor that barely covered what was important, almost a waste. She had two swords hilted to her belt below the small of her back.

She had long brown hair and blue eyes, piercing through them.

“If you were mocking me, I’ll-“

“Cool it,” the youngest said. “Can we begin?” he asked, the chill of wind sweeping through them again, a reminder.'
Tristesse
Tristesse

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