No, preferably not. I try to use it once if no one has responded to the prompt.
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“You truly believe that I’m doing all of this for me?!” Venus screeched, “Unicorns! Bloody unicorns, all out there being murdered for some…evil sorceress,” she tore at the papers in her hand, the pieces landing everywhere. Shaking hands throwing accusatory fingers toward her brother.
“You, you do nothing! Ever! This is why I wanted to do this over letter, but no, you just had to come here. When are you going to realize that what you do has a consequence? We rule these lands, we have a legacy and you, you waste it all having jolly fun and whoring away in the village!” Taking a breath, Venus ran tired fingers through her messy hair, pacing about the room in uneven steps.
She was being over emotional, though it was hard with all the issues currently happening. Surely all the staff could hear within range, all that drama, gossip. She hated it though maybe not as much as her brother.
“Alright, we’ll start over,” she rephrased, taking another careful breath, rearranging her gown and plastered smile. “Sorceress Seraphina is a threat to our reputation. I couldn’t care less for the action of dark magic, but that matters is that she does not describe the symbol of our family, the unicorns. We are the dark kingdom, out power has held for thousands of years but this,” she held up pieces of the torn newspaper, “This is sheer madness. Soon the pathetic commoners will talk and we can’t allow that. How would you like your reputation in ruins? No? Then embark on the quest with me. Anyone who threatens our family must be vanquished.”
Outside, Gerald finished fastened the saddles for the winged creatures, a strange beast that the king fancied. It wasn’t to say that they were all that appealing in look, but they got the job done.
“Your majesty, your ride awaits,” he announced.
“Good lad,” the king bellowed back, “at least you still have the decency of respect around here. Those kids of mine…” he trailed off toward sounds of yelling in the background. Gerald just paled.
“Are my kids quarrelling now? My hearing is not what it once was,” he asked. Gerald stood still for a second pondering the answer. On one hand, the king would be furious and he didn’t want any incorrectly directed anger, but on the other hand, lying just felt uncomfortable.
Almost in that moment, the raised voiced somewhat calmed.
“No sir, m-must have been the, the wind,” Gerald found himself saying.
“Good lad,” the king repeated before climbing aboard the winged beast.
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Amused, Nicholas silently watched his older sister going completely mad over his words and the danger upon the unicorns. He knew very well how dark magic worked. Seraphina would just cut their rainbow colored horns, release the magic from it and transfer it into her wand or something. Why would he care? Ruling lands, legacy, Royal blood - never meant anything to him. But when Venus accused him of contributing nothing to his kingdom Royal duties, his expression turned serious. “You want my help, right?” he spoke calmly staring at her clenched fists trembling with anger. “Alright. I do agree to embark on this quest with you to vanquish that pathetic witch. But I have an condition…”
Princess Venus squinted her feline amber eyes furrowing her eyebrows. “Would it hurt you not to be selfish for once?” She cut Nicholas off.
Nicholas folded his arms against his chest, annoyed. “Let. Me. Finish. First!” he voiced emphasizing on every word. “I am not Gerald, nor any of your little maids. So stop screeching, behave like an older and wiser sister, if you can. You need my help, I don’t need yours”, Nicholas made it clear that shouting at him would do no good to Venus. “Anyways, my condition is if I help you, you shall have to convince father to let me practice dark magic in the castle. It is my passion. If you promise, I would do as you say” he made a deal. “And for God’s sake, do not call the commoners pathetic. You are nothing without them” he added with a shrug
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The princess sat silent for the moments afterwards, stunned by her brother. This type of rage was common, but interrupting her? Venus could have subjects beheaded for less. They made up the dark kingdom, not the ‘nice’ one. The citizens that dwelled here knew very well the price for enduring the with of the royal ones. Kindness was a weakness that she had learned to control from a young age. Nicholas did it as well, that same energy.
“Very well,” she conceded. It hurt, it really did to have everything fall o his terms, but they had to preserve the reputation of the kingdom. “I will talk father into letting you continue with your not-so-clandestine magic practice and you will accompany me. I hope you do realize that I only requested for you in the end because of your aptitude with magic. It’s never worked for me and dark magic? It’s frowned upon, but I suppose you’ve never cared.”
Her brother held the magical abilities, she had the proper diplomacy and the knowledge of charms. When magic never worked, looking toward alternate sources tended to work. Potions, runes, charms, all contained within trinkets that Princess Venus had laced hidden into her jewellery. They were armed and now had a quest.
“Father left for his daily hunting trip, that senile man, but it gives us good time. I trust a few of my handmaid to prepare horses for us. A day’s journey to save the reputation of our kingdom. Do you have everything you need?” she asked her brother.
Seraphina only observed the viewing mirror plastered into the wall. Behind her, hooded figures draped in black stood behind her, mere followers of the dark magic though they still trembled when she frowned. Down the steps under the one opening in the roof for light, was another fallen unicorn, blood across the floor and a man with a dagger.
Seraphina stared at the mirror once longer before turning away, the hooded figures stepping back.
“What happens now?” the man with the dagger asked. She just stared coldly forwards, an ethereal look under the darkness.
“They’re coming,” she whispered, “blood of the royal.”
Up ahead, seven ravens circled the fortress.
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Prompt Seven
The desert road went on for ages. Around it was barren and dry, the sun beating down on the Earth, scorching the asphalt underfoot. He had been walking for hours, his bare feet were starting to bleed. But he can’t stop moving… he can’t let them find him again.
Another ten minutes of his steadily slowing run, he had reached the edge of a small town, parched and exhausted. Squinting through the rays of sunlight, the town no movement, not even the slightest bit of sound, aside from his heavy panting. Could a town be this eerie during the day?
He was about to find out, to look around the town for someone, anyone, but… his foot couldn’t move, and neither could the other. Struggling, he still couldn’t break free. The sun had made the ground was so hot where he stood that his feet numbing, the long he couldn’t move.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he would have jumped in fright if he had be able to move. Tap, Tap! Two fingers had gently struck his shoulder.
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“Excuse me sir, are you alright?” He turned around to see spot the source of the sound. A young girl stood in front of him. Her eyes widened as she scanned his body. “You don’t look alright…”
He tried to speak, desperately hoping to communicate with the little girl. The longer her refused to answer, the more the little girl started to shake with fright. “D-do you need water? I can–I can try and s-send for some help.” No sooner had she finished her sentence she bolted off into the town and out of sight.
He had found someone, at last, but he could not find any way to communicate with her. Was this going to be the end for him? Just stuck to the ground and doomed to be caught or die from the heat? Every second he stayed under the sun he could feel himself starting to wither more.
After some indeterminable amount of time, some shadows appeared from where the little girl had run towards. Perhaps this would save him and perhaps it would be his end, but he was subject to their mercy.
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Wiping the sweat drops from his forehead, he waited for some seconds hoping for the good. Probably those figures were coming from the town, probably the girl sent them to rescue him because she could not do it alone. Then why could he not spot the girl with them? Exhaustion, dehydration and hunger had made him weak and his vision blurry. Now that he had stopped after a long run, blisters under his feet were hurting.
He squinted his eyes to be more certain that they were coming to help him. The figures were now pretty close. As they came more closer, he recognized one of the faces. The scorching heat of the sun, the pain from his joints–all faded away. ‘We are here, we are everywhere. You can try to run away from us, but at the end of the day we will catch you at the hell’s door and bring you to back to us!’- The raspy exceptionally deep voice echoed in his head. Blood rushed through his veins, his weak heart started pounding against its cage as he collected all his remaining strength and ran towards the town but taking a different direction, the longer route. But maybe the little bit of strength was not enough… He did not even care as long as he was getting away from them.
He bolted off helplessly, not even daring to look behind. Of course, they were following him, but no, he had enough, he would not surrender again. He closed his eyes but his tired legs never stopped, even they gained more speed. He caught a loud ‘bang’ behind him, a gun shot. All his senses went numb unable to inform him if he got shot. Last thing he remembered was hitting the hard ground before he went unconscious. . . . .
As the cool breeze touched his face, he felt the dampness of water drops on his eyes and cheeks. The senses were back, every single joint of his body hurt. Even opening his eyes was painful. But when he did, he everything was blur. Probably… There were some people, someone crouched down beside him, a little figure, the girl… And he went unconscious again.
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He awoke again in a small, dark room with no windows and a single, dim lightbulb hanging right above him. He was bound to a chair by what seemed to be some sort of glue-like substance, and his wrists and ankles were tied together, limiting his movement. He looked up with dreary eyes, scanning the room as he took in his surroundings. Directly in front of him was a small mirror, about his height when standing. He was still tired, but he noticed that he wasn’t hungry or tired anymore. He didn’t recall eating or drinking though… so had he just gotten used to the feeling or had they somehow fed and gave him water? Stranger things had happened.
The idea of being trapped again, of being forced to undergo all their tests and experiments until they killed him… he didn’t want to think about it. He had to escape, he’d gotten so far already. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe that it had all been in vain. If he’d just been able to make it a few more steps into the town, maybe he wouldn’t have run into the girl who must’ve sold him out. If he just—
His thoughts were interrupted by the supposed mirror opening, and a man walked through the hole in the wall before closing the mirror/door behind him. Glancing up at the man, he saw that he was the one he’d recognized out of the figures. He remembered thinking he’d never have to see him again, but here he was, alone in a small room with no one except this dark-haired scientist. He noticed that the man was wearing a white lab coat, and held a tablet in his hand as he drew closer to him. He hung his head, refusing to look the man in his head.
The man tsked, scrolling down on the tablet as he approached. “Kaedin 73. Male. 20. Time with Project: 12 years. Ability: Telekinesis.” He made no move, letting the scientist’s words settle in the air around them. The scientist sighed, adjusting the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. “73, we told you that you couldn’t escape us. Your attempt was futile. You had to know that we’d find you again. So why even try?” He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze trained on the floor.
The scientist continued, “You’ve been with us for 12 years, since you were 8. You have two other escape ticks listed here on your profile, one when you were 12 and one when you were 17. And as punishment for one, your friend, Kaedin 63 faced… elimination. Aw.” The scientist made a mock-sympathetic face. “Tough. I’ve heard you two were real close.”
“Don’t talk about her,” he grunted, the words leaving his mouth before he thought better of it.
The scientist raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile on his face. “So he does talk. I’d heard rumours… but well, confirmation is always good.” He made a note on the tablet, before looking back at him. “I’m not sure what to do with you, 73. We have a strict 3 escape ticks policy. There’s pressure on me to make an example of you for the others… and with all the trouble you’ve caused us, a part of me wants to.” He walked closer to him, tracing a line down his arm. “But you have a power that’s unmatched to anything I’ve ever seen. There’s still so much potential with you… So much fun we can have, together.”
In a fluid, sudden motion, the scientist grabbed a large needle from a pocket in his lab coat and plunged it into 73’s arm. He cried out as the liquid was pushed into his arm and travelled through his veins. He clenched his fists as the pain grew, feeling it shooting through his body. He looked down at his arms, saw his veins pulsing an abnormal purple through his skin. The scientist watched this all, taking notes down on the tablet. “Fascinating…” he murmured.
The pain receded, and 73’s head hung down, exhausted. The scientist clapped, almost giddy. “Now we can get started.”
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Too exhausted to move, let alone speak… that’s what he wanted the scientist to believe. 73 didn’t know who this guy was and where the regular one was that he often dealt with, but this guy was thick. The old can’t have even been watching, 'cause this guy didn’t even know his old tricks.
Believing that Kaedin 73 was out cold, the dumb scientist left the room to collect his equipment… leaving the door open. Foolish. 73 put his plan into action and used this as his opportunity to…
Hey, @RPers, this story is going well. We’d love you to all to help out!
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…finally escape from the lab! 73 had failed his escape last time, but he was ready. This time, 73 knew where they kept all the supplies. This time, 73 wouldn’t be the only one escaping. Sure, they could find one person. But if all of the test subjects escaped? They would never stand a chance. The desert was going to be hot, and thirst would most certainly be an issue. However, he didn’t have much time to take the opening that the scientist had given to him. He had to act, and he had to act now.
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The binds that held his wrists and his ankles together were made of rope, and judging by the blue shine on the rope, the scientist had been smart enough to coat it with a substance called estherketerol, which had chemical properties that restricted the abilities of him and other people like him. However, while the scientist had recognized that 73’s powers were unmatched, he obviously still underestimated 73. He had developed his telekinesis around the estherketerol and had been doing so for a long time, which many of the older scientists knew about. This scientist had only seen him briefly and apparently didn’t know what he was capable of.
The liquid the scientist injected in his arm has drained a lot of his energy, but he summoned all of the energy he had left to untie the rope that bound his feet and his hands with his mind. Sweat dripped down his forehead by the time he’d done it and he was breathing hard, but he was mostly elated that he’d succeeded. His back was still bound to the back of the chair by the glue-like substance, but he quickly evaded that by taking off his shirt. He got to his feet, then shuffled out the door.
The hall was dark when he first stepped out into it, but the lights quickly came on and his eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden change of brightness. He stumbled down the closest turn, his hand on the wall for support as he moved along. He walked for a while more, taking turns at random and hoping to end up where he wanted to. This facility was significantly smaller than the one a few day’s walk away which he had pretty much grown up in, but it was unfamiliar territory, so it might as well have been as big as the other facility.
He ended up in a large hall that was similar to the aisles of a grocery store. There were rows and rows of cubic glass squares, about 10 rows of 5 cubes each, all with the blue shine of estherketerol painted over them. In the squares there were people of all ages, all clad in the typical shapeless brown tops and pants that were standard to the project. None of them looked at him as he entered the residential area of the facility, which just confirmed that the glass was the kind he’d grown up in, you can see in but they can’t see out. This was why he’d grown up and never knew who had been in the room next to him. If there was anyone in the room.
He knew that the scientist had probably noticed he’d escaped and he didn’t have much time left to act. On the right wall, there was a large latch that he figured he had no reason not to pull. So he did, and all the doors to the glass rooms opened simultaneously. The range of the abilities of all the people in this area was vast and unknowable to him, but he bet that he could use them all to help them escape.
Some of the patients stumbled out of the glass rooms, eyes wide and mouth gaping, but most of the patients remained in the rooms. He couldn’t really blame them, they’d been through a lot and they weren’t easy to trust. They probably just thought this was another trick, to get them to slip up. It would be hard for him to convince the majority of the patients that he wouldn’t hurt them, especially since he has more chance of being found the longer he stays in one place.
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alskdkdj someone respond I actually like this one a lot 
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this is so cool! I can’t believe I’ve been neglecting this thread I have an idea, but I’ll reply tomorrow since I’m tired
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Prompt Eight
Paris, 1934. Detective Beaumont follows his suspect, Forestier, who is wearing a long trench coat and fedora that is dipped low over his face. Beaumont suspects Forestier to be infamous “rose murderer” but has little proof to go on. The Rose Murderer always leaves the petals of rare rose variety, 'Farewell, over his victims’ eyes and under their heads like a pillow. The rose can only be bought in one shop in Paris, and if Forestier walks to that shop today, it is almost certain he is the murderer.
Indeed, the suspect’s ways lead him to the flower shop in question. Although he did come out again. An hour passed and still no sign. Three more had entered and three had left. Yet, no Forestier. Beaumont realised he had been given the slip. Time to find out what happened, so the detective entered the flower shop.
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Sorry, guys, had to continue on since it’s been over two weeks, but you’re more than welcome to continue this on another thread if you want to or take it somewhere else. I don’t mind.
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Ahhh… I really want to respond to this one But I have 2-3 drastically different scenes playing out in my head and I can’t decide which way to type it…whyyyyy must it be drastically different thoughts…?
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Grab a dice and roll one to decide which to use?
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Forestier knew he was being followed. The individual following him was none other than Detective Beaumont, the man he had been watching for weeks. Inside the shop he waited, knowing the detective would eventually enter. An hour he waited as three people entered and exited the shop. A part of Forestier had begun to question if the detective had left, though Forestier knew better than anyone that the detective couldn’t stay away forever. Forestier’s knowledge of the detective proved correct as he finally entered the shop. Finally tilting his fedora above his eyes, Forestier looked to the man he had known since childhood. “Decided to stop and smell the roses?” Forestier said in a nonchalant manner. He was certain that the detective’s true colors would come to light, even if one of them would not get to leave the flower shop. “I know why you’re here. Do you?”
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#roleplays tag added!
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Detective Beaumont pushed open the shop door, that had been left partially ajar after the last customer exited it. As the door opened, it creaked quietly. Not ideal for a shop, he thought. Once Beaumont was inside the shop, he sets his eyes upon fedora-wearing mop of ginger hair; the man he had been hunting for weeks. Forestier. When Forestier said that he knew why he was here but asked if he knew himself, Beaumont had to think. He just stared and Forestier stared back. Finally, after what felt like minutes, Beaumont answered with a question, “What is it that you think I’m here for, Matthew?” He was clear to slowly use and pronounce his first name clearly.
C’mon, @RPers, I’d love to see more than one to two people writing on these prompts.
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The store manager Bartholomew Laurens refrained from interfering with the exchange. He was aware of the supposed serial killer walking amongst them, and did little as look at the two.
Detective Beaumont was an intimidating guy who constantly lurked in the shadows. You never saw him coming.
Forestier was the same. Sly and mysterious. He came into the shop every week or so, but Bartholomew never questioned it.
Bartholomew looked down behind the counter taking quick glances at the two, carefully listening as he plucked rose petals into a bag.
Sorry, I would’ve participated in other prompts but you never seem to tag me 
Anyways, this is bad
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