WELCOME TO R.A.N.T.
We are an original character roleplay based in an alternate version of our modern world. Society, superpowered but dynaphobic, has been split into two groups, each imprisoned by dusk and dawn. The plot is entirely player-driven and has a heavy online focus. We encourage members to use their characters to shape and shift the world in whatever ways they can and to experiment with new ideas and storylines.
diarkís
AUGUST, 2017
06/01 Official site open! Please check the announcements for important updates and special events.

05/15 Site soft-open! Players who create characters between now and the official opening on the first of June can purchase a second rank for free (375 point value). This is limited to one per OOC account.

WANTED SPOTLIGHT

 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 cornflake girl, @lena
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
150 POINTS EARNED
95 POSTS MADE
95
he/him
bakery owner
gay
single
rank 2
MEET
heart made of icing
Days were usually slower than nights as far as Jean's business went. It wasn't due to the number of daylight citizens in the nearby area -- if anything, Eastend seemed to be the part of Diarkis where the Imera to Nychta ration was pretty much 1:1 -- but rather the fact that Jean had to sleep too. Being untagged, he found it easier to avoid Lykofos' attention at night, so he usually spent the daylight hours in bed, asleep with Croissant curled around his head like a particularly warm, purring hat-slash-pillow. What that meant for his business what that he hadn't exactly had an opportunity to build a stable client base among the Imera who lived in the neighborhood.

As Jean did all the work in the bakery himself, working both during the day and after sunset also increased the risk of being discovered. It wasn't unheard of for Eastenders from both sides of the cycle to live under the same roof and while their ability to communicate with each other was understandably limited, there was no guarantee that no one would catch on to the fact that a certain tattooed baker could be spotted awake at any time.

But Jean's ability, the one that had brought him to Canada in the first place, had resulted in something akin to carelessness when it came to the Cycle. Or rather, not as much carelessness as a sense of safety. While he was aware that Lykofos rarely paused to ask someone without a chip questions before shooting them, and Jean was as vulnerable to bullets as any other person, the man knew that, should worse come to worst, he would always have a way out. It wasn't an ideal solution as Jean found the process of leaving an old life behind and getting used to a new one viciously unpleasant, but it did create a safety net of sorts.

On the rare occasion that he flipped the sign on the door to Open after 10 am, Jean could usually be spotted at one of the tables, reading a book while nibbling on a piece of cake or a muffin. Spotted from behind the window he looked very much like a customer rather than the owner of the place, but he simply didn't see the point of spending time behind the counter if there was no actual need to.

The daylight menu was often more modest than the one Jean served at night. For one, a lower amount of customers resulted in lower sales and Jean hated wasting food, he would never forgive himself if he had to throw away perfectly good pastries just because they had not sold during the day. And then there was a fact that he rarely included the healing foods in the Imera-oriented offer. This kind of thing tended to attract attention, which, as previously stated, Jean preferred to avoid. Not to mention that preparing these special cupcakes required more effort and Jean felt like Nychta deserved that more than the day people.

The bell chimed through the bakery as the door was pushed open, announcing a customer's arrival. Jean looked up from his book, a cup of coffee raised halfway to his mouth, eyeing the newcomer curiously.

+ tag@Venom
+ notesETC
BY MITZI
Venom CST She/her 23 Offline 3|3|3 Nina#7751
120 POINTS EARNED
51 POSTS MADE
Maggie, Lena
25
She/her
Maid, Midwife
Heterosexual
Single
rank 1
MEET Maggie, Lena
velvet
She wore blue velvet. Bluer than velvet was the night, Softer than satin was the light From the stars. She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet were her eyes. Warmer than may her tender sighs. Love was ours. Ours a love I held tightly, Feeling the rapture grow. Like a flame burning brightly But when she left, gone was the glow of blue velvet
Sometimes there was a sadness in summer that sat in her memory like an uncleaned corner of a room. Often forgotten, and occasionally but sorely remembered. Perhaps it was felt between the mood of the youth as they passed her by, impassioned by life, thoughtless and wild, bottles of beer to their lips, their hair dusted in sunlight. At times they seemed both hot and untroubled, something that never failed to fill her with wonder. She did not like to admit it was a feeling born from envy, but she could not ignore that those were its roots. They claimed the bliss of summer effortlessly, a feeling that for her was so long ago felt, and the years of lonely wait for its return could at times be too bitter in her mouth.

It was that crazed, careless feeling that burst from the breast when love took one most, where one dreamed they could steal silver dollars from the moon and drink pools of honey from the morning sun. The world teemed with magical impossibility, and she could tell that when the other youth passed, they lived in that feeling fully, and with an openness that seemed too long ago to recall.

She thought of eighteen, a young and barely claimed womanhood, her eyes glimmering for a forbidden man, closed behind taboo. But he took the time for her, and she could remember the seemingly beautiful, endless nights where she would watch his mouth move like silk, speaking about all and everything. The wonders of an infinite space, the death and birth of stars. "Talk to me forever, my darling, until we fade into the stardust from whence we were born."

Would he ever treat her to his heart again? They promised forever, or at least she had to him. She was always struck with fear when the thought came to her that he may have thought this wishful but silly thinking of a young, inexperienced girl.

When did becoming a woman become evident to men?

Her thoughts were busy and spilling like broken glasses, so she chose to clear her mind with an adventure of uncharted spaces. So today, she woke to the sunrise instead of the sunset, prayed that no one would recognize her face as she clasped her necklace behind her, and took to unfamiliar streets with shops she could not always read from a window. Briefly, she passed a shop that sold blown glass and accessories, and decided with a piqued curiosity that she would return later once she read they did not open for a few more hours.

Her first stop then, was a bakery, the air light and humming with warmth. It reminded her of her mother's kitchen back in Italy, when she busied herself with the oven checking every so often to watch the bread rise, the smell of rosemary and yeast warming the sunlight that drifted through the window. The picture was so clear, how she used to dance her little fingers among the billowing curtains as a child, their cat Bombolone (his name was Bombo, for short) on the windowsill asking for attention. "Mamma, pensa mai che i diversi lati vivranno in pace tra loro?"

Her mother used to shake her head, and say, "No, il mio piccolo fiore. Non finché tutti imparano a valorizzare l'amore per paura."

Sweeping her stance merrily towards his direction, she smiled openly, an invitation to speak with no apprehension. "Do you know if the owner is busy? I have never been here before and this little place is just beautiful!"
TAGGED: @mal | WC: 595 | NOTES: hover foreign language for translation. all translations use google translate and do not prove 100% faithful to the non-english language.
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
150 POINTS EARNED
95 POSTS MADE
95
he/him
bakery owner
gay
single
rank 2
MEET
heart made of icing
Jean watched the girl pause in a spot of golden sunlight that entered the room through the front window, bathing everything it touched in a heavenly glow. It raised a shiny halo around the stranger's head, making her dark hair appear lighter, dust particles glimmering in the air like glitter, and when the girl smiled at him, bright and serene at once, she truly looked like a piece of art that had been brought to life through some miracle rather than a creature made of flesh. It was a sight that could make one fall in love or at least a fleeting illusion of love, were they inclined to fall for pretty girls at all. Jean was not but he found the vision quite pleasing nonetheless.

His own lips moved in response, forming a smile just as warm as hers. Jean-Philippe was naturally a people person, not easily deterred by even the most intense grumpiness, so to respond to a display of friendliness as obvious as this one came to him as effortlessly as breathing. The polite inquiry made him chuckle as he set the half-empty cup down and stood up, leaving the book open but turned upside down so as to keep track of where he had finished reading.

"No, I don't think he is," Jean replied, watching the girl admire the interior. It was always nice to hear compliments about a thing of your own but Jean was particularly proud of his little bakery. The place was not huge, squeezed in between two other, larger shops, but appeared bigger due to the high ceilings and lightly painted walls. The size, of course, was only a part of what contributed to the general ambiance, some could argue that it was even the least important part. What Jean like the most was the decor: the whiteness of the walls broken by a line of color here and there, furniture made of old wood, and the pastel-colored chairs that gave the interior a more modern twist. He had, not entirely consciously, based Cake A Diem on the bakeries he had used to visit as a child in faraway France, a fearful boy clutching his mother's hand while peeking curiously at the pastries protected by thick glass.

That child was little more than a memory these days but Jean still found solace in the cozy atmosphere of his bakery and the memories of home it evoked.

It tended to make him nostalgic. He had a feeling this girl would understand, or perhaps it was just a projection of his mind prompted by the slight accent he could hear in her voice. Jean himself had never stopped sounding vaguely French regardless of the body he inhabited, something that had caused confusion in the past but didn't surprise anyone in Canada. It could be a blessing in a way, not having to come up with elaborate explanations of how and why he had found himself in this place, but it also made him feel even more like an impostor when hardly anyone doubted that he belonged here. "At least, not too busy to serve someone as kind as you. Good morning, by the way." He leaned against the counter, gaze still on the girl. "My name is Jean. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?"

+ tag@Venom
+ notesETC
BY MITZI
Venom CST She/her 23 Offline 3|3|3 Nina#7751
120 POINTS EARNED
51 POSTS MADE
Maggie, Lena
25
She/her
Maid, Midwife
Heterosexual
Single
rank 1
MEET Maggie, Lena
velvet
She wore blue velvet. Bluer than velvet was the night, Softer than satin was the light From the stars. She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet were her eyes. Warmer than may her tender sighs. Love was ours. Ours a love I held tightly, Feeling the rapture grow. Like a flame burning brightly But when she left, gone was the glow of blue velvet
"Oh!" as he stood, she raised her eyes to follow his, gently pressing a palm to her chest in suppression of laughter, sighing sweetly before she managed to speak again. "I'm so sorry, I mistook you as a customer! You must forgive me..." Angle of her body following him until he took place behind the counter, she smiled once more before gently resting her palms on the surface, tapping on the wood lightly as she briefly looked that the items on display before turning to face him again. "Unfortunately I must say I took some prejudice into place...I often don't expect owners of such quaint bakeries to look like you," she hummed, tilting her head. "Especially one with such a vintage style. Well, a vintage taste. I can tell, mmmm," Upon giggling, she rubbed her lip with her thumb, eyes falling downcast to look at the items again.

"I have nothing specific in mind...really I just chose to explore this morning, explore places I didn't know. I don't come down this street too often. A shame, I now know!" Pressing her palms flat together, she sighed if only to fully breathe in the scent of the place once more, the decision of a treat becoming no clearer for choosing. "Well goodness, they all look so wonderful, I really can't seem to choose...here, I will say just give me a few of you favorites, your best specialties and that will be wonderful for me. Oh! And a coffee please, with cream and sugar. "
TAGGED: @mal | WC: 255 | NOTES: hover foreign language for translation. all translations use google translate and do not prove 100% faithful to the non-english language.
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
150 POINTS EARNED
95 POSTS MADE
95
he/him
bakery owner
gay
single
rank 2
MEET
heart made of icing
With a gentle smile that did not match his appearance, or at least that was what Jean had heard a lot during the past three years, he acknowledged the girl's explanation. "Yeah, I get that a lot," he admitted. "Don't worry." She had been kinder than most about putting her reservation into words. Not to say that he was being insulted by customers on a regular basis, but there was something about the tattoos, the beard, and perhaps the way he carried himself in general that encouraged loud laughter and good-natured teasing rather than gentleness.

"Vintage?" Jean hummed, letting his gaze leave the newcomer's face and wander around the room for a few seconds. He knew every nook and crane of this place, after all, and the comment had not really made him see it in a new light since he had purposefully designed it to evoke nostalgia, if only his own. Yet it was nice to hear that his efforts had been noticed and even appreciated by someone else. "Perhaps. It reminds me of my childhood home." There was no danger in revealing that small tidbit of information to anyone, Jean figured. It wasn't like he specified when exactly he had been a child.

Her indecisiveness did not irritate him. Under normal circumstances, it was a difficult feat to make Jean feel anything so strongly negative, but he had even more patience for customers like her. It must be a matter of exposure: so many requests he got were something along the lines of Just something that tastes good, please. Jean was used to having to guess what his clients would like.

It was even fun, sometimes, to see if his judgments of other people's pastry preferences were correct. He looked the girl over, then, expression serious but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Let's see." Jean started the coffee machine and turned to inspect the display. "I'd say, amaretti to go with your coffee and then -- perhaps a piece of panforte, how does that sound?"

+ tag@Venom
+ notesETC
BY MITZI
Venom CST She/her 23 Offline 3|3|3 Nina#7751
120 POINTS EARNED
51 POSTS MADE
Maggie, Lena
25
She/her
Maid, Midwife
Heterosexual
Single
rank 1
MEET Maggie, Lena
velvet
She wore blue velvet. Bluer than velvet was the night, Softer than satin was the light From the stars. She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet were her eyes. Warmer than may her tender sighs. Love was ours. Ours a love I held tightly, Feeling the rapture grow. Like a flame burning brightly But when she left, gone was the glow of blue velvet
"Ah, yes! Mine too, in a certain way!" she expressed warmly, skirting her finger over the glass, admiring how the sunlight lit the round of his lips that emerged from his full beard, how the stormy slate of his eyes lit into a bubble of blue water. He seemed a sincere and handsome man, one of tenderness and appreciative of the arts; she could only imagine that he must have kept a lucky girl at home who doted on this sincerity, and how lovely he must have treated her. Did he cook her other things in his spare moments? She liked to think so. Food, as it was, was often a way to the heart. "No so much, mmm, my particular childhood home in general, but the feel of my home town. Quaint, humble...honest."

In great anticipation, she watched as the smile quirked on the side of his mouth, how he studied in brief succession her and then the pastries, trying to find the similarities, the complimentary choices. Her fascination was in the evidence of his mental wheels turning — she cared less for the choice, and more for his interest in choosing. A man passionate about people was a man that she could appreciate. Despite this, his choices delighted her.

When she clapped, it was from childhood delight. "Oh yes, that sounds delightful. Yes I would like just that. Yes please, how much do I owe you?" Pulling out her little leather wallet, the edges of her lips peeked into a smile as she took a long observation at him, "You are treating my Italian side well, look at you. You must recognize my accent. I think I spy a little accent from you, too. It's faint, what is it if you don't mind my asking?"
TAGGED: @mal | WC: 298 | NOTES: hover foreign language for translation. all translations use google translate and do not prove 100% faithful to the non-english language.
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
150 POINTS EARNED
95 POSTS MADE
95
he/him
bakery owner
gay
single
rank 2
MEET
heart made of icing
"A small town, then?" he guessed, somehow managing to appear like he was paying attention solely to her even as he made sure that the coffee machine did its work properly and without spilling the dark liquid on the light-colored surface around it. It happened on occasion, and Jean always kept a cloth at hand to wipe the counters down if needed. Stains were such an ugly thing, not to mention Croissant's quirky habit of dipping his paws into any splotch of carelessly spilled coffee or tea and leaving trails of small wet paw prints all over the place. "Or just a quaint borough." Jean could relate, himself coming from a small town settled near the seashore of lovely France, but then again, every town and city had been smaller in the days of his youth. The world population had skyrocketed since Jean had been a child and to this day he sometimes found the bustle and crowded atmosphere of Diarkis tiring and confusing.

The innocence he glimpsed in the girl's eyes matched the sunlight falling in through the windows. In times like these, Jean regretted his decision to live almost exclusively at night. It was safer, yes, but there was something about the light of day that made him feel better, and the people seemed more hopeful on this side of the clock. The effect of ignorance more often than not, but Jean, especially while faced with bright-eyed children like the one before him, did not have it within himself to wish that someone would shatter the illusion of safety they had built for themselves. Despite his allegiance to Nekros, the man's undeniable anger was aimed mostly at those in power rather than the clueless Imera, even if they benefitted, unknowingly, from the oppression of the less fortunate folk.

"That would be $11," he said, setting the coffee in front of her before turning around to put a piece of panforte on a plate. "So, Italian, hm? I'm glad I guessed correctly." It had been a while since Jean had heard any Italian, after all. Having his own accent pointed out to him made him smile: he had never given much thought to the language differences before finding himself in Canada so unexpectedly, but once he had, Jean had quickly discovered that the French spoken in Diarkis differed greatly from what he remembered from his own country. "I was born in France. Looks like we're both a long way from home." If Italy had ever been her home, of course. For all he knew, she might just be a daughter or a granddaughter of immigrants.

+ tag@Venom
+ notes I know nothing about prices in Canadian coffee shops, bear with me
BY MITZI
Venom CST She/her 23 Offline 3|3|3 Nina#7751
120 POINTS EARNED
51 POSTS MADE
Maggie, Lena
25
She/her
Maid, Midwife
Heterosexual
Single
rank 1
MEET Maggie, Lena
velvet
She wore blue velvet. Bluer than velvet was the night, Softer than satin was the light From the stars. She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet were her eyes. Warmer than may her tender sighs. Love was ours. Ours a love I held tightly, Feeling the rapture grow. Like a flame burning brightly But when she left, gone was the glow of blue velvet
"Mm, yes, A bit smaller town, but large enough to have a little bit of tourism. It is a town a few hours outside of Rome called Orvieto. It's settled on a very steep hill, surrounded by valleys and farmland." Her smile was sweet and longing, though not without its wistfulness nestled in nostalgia and loss. It was not that the people here saddened her, for she had met many a fine person that she did not mind to see again, but something about the city still felt foreign to her. She had adapted well, to the climate, to the difference in cultural sensibilities, but her adaption had never gone so far to have a personal acceptance. Familiar, but not warm. Not home.

These feelings, though always true and existing, rarely spent much time at the front of her thoughts, but upon their appearance she seemed to ruminate through them quietly as she handed him the cash that was owed, remembering the faint and beloved details of her childhood days. The thin, long roads, paved with pale charcoal brick, sun bleached from those hot Italian summers, the stucco and brick buildings a shifting hue of pale yellows, eggshells, and burnt sienna. So caught was she in the image of her own memory that a few moments passed even after he had served her the pastry and shared his place of origin. The sun caught how her eyes glimmered with an unattainable collection of moments, a place. Now, she worked among the thieving night of Diarkis, where the city pleasurably bubbled with the existence of its own sins. Fast, wild, and burning the color violet.

She grew back into the conversation slowly. "Ah yes, France. My father once took me there when I was little, but I don't remember much of it. Just a language I didn't understand, mostly." Smiling, she held the coffee and treat in hand. "Would you mind if we sit to continue the conversation? I feel like it may be uncomfortable if we both stand."
TAGGED: @mal | WC: 338 | NOTES: xxx
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll


 


 


Affiliates
Resources & Directories
Candyland Couture RPG Initiative RPG-D
Sister Sites
Static
Code 8 Avalon a Panfandom RP We Are Warriors INCREDIBLE Far Harbor: A Fallout RPG
Scrolling
SKINNED BY Vanessa of SHINE AND CAUTION