Name: FiendExperience: Quite a bit. I've been a moderator in...20? or so groups, and modded 3-4 of my own groups very successfully.Group Ideas: Mostly pertaining to plot developing villains. I can still list some if you want?Time Zone: ESTRoleplay Sample:(view spoiler)[ this is legit prolly the best post I have ever doneJen was still pretty when she cried.It was something so irrelevant, yet so relevant. It was what she noticed when she straightened up, balanced gained once more from having been shoved away and then pulled close again. It was like an anchor as her thoughts bobbed in her mind, stuck at that single point. Tears were foreign to Kye. She hadn't seen them in years, maybe ever. So, how was she to comfort Jen if she couldn't remember experiencing such an emotional twist in the pit of her gut? But then there was the question of why she cared, yet again. Why did she?Why did she then, in that moment, think of leaving home? Like leaving a part of herself, she'd disappeared into the trees. A dream within a dream within yet another dream; that's what the first couple of months in the rebellion had felt like. As much as she survived off chaos, this--a weeping Jen in her arms--wasn't the sort she was used to. There was nothing she could search her mind for to answer the question: why did she care?Her hands were at her sides, many winged birds nervously ruffling feathers. She didn't know what to do with them, what to say, but her lips were moving anyways. "Because if you die, who else am I going to hate so much," she heard herself say. But had she really said hate? She didn't have any love for Jen, or so she thought, but she didn't think she hated her. Despised would be a weak word to use in her mind, hate reigning supreme over anything she might have known. "Because someone has to care." She wasn't supposed to be taking on the burden of feeling anything for this sniveling mess of a girl--older than her, older than her--in her arms.Kye could feel a dawning. A burning envy so strong, it was Kye's turn to want to cry. Jen could cry, could break down. Because someone did care for her. Key knew better than to be fooled into thinking Damon cared about any of them, maybe Jen. He was a hell of a lot more possessive with her than any other woman in the camp. Had her more often, actively sought her out. She was noticeable, she was visible. She wasn't the tall savage, the girl in the woods. There was a name to go with her infuriatingly beautiful face. There was some sort of reverence, even if it was twisted by the idea of her simply being a means for easy illusions of love or lack thereof.As for Kye, she'd been forgotten countless times. Left to her own devices by the woman that had carried her for nine months. "Released" by those that had taken her in. Both times, she was left in the same place. It was like they didn't see a reason for her to stay, to be with them. They didn't care enough to keep her around, she supposed. Who wanted a girl who couldn't even read her name if you wrote it down? She figured any sort of good time that might have happened didn't mean shit to them, but that was fine; they were probably a little better off.She must have been quiet for a while, because now she was just tired. Tired of caring, perhaps; she knew well enough that she tended to avoid doing it. Maybe just tired of trying to stop caring. There were things that she could dismiss easily, and then there was the loneliness. That small ache inside her even in a camp full of rebels. Even with a girl crying right in front of her. She didn't want to dismiss the fact that this was Jen, baring her heart and soul, and Kye couldn't do the same. She wouldn't be as pretty, just volatile and likely comical in her eyes. Something to take back to the rest of the camp. To talk about over disgusting canned beans and questionably pure water and hooch. There wasn't a time in hell that she'd make herself known like Jen had. She'd just remain the shadow, the hound waiting for orders.She remembered where'd seen tears before. It was Alba and Kieran. They'd had a fight; loud, words flung back and forth until in that non-combative combative way they had until Alba broke and left with that passive shutting of the door quietly. It was the kind of passive that made Kye know something was wrong, that there was something she should steer clear of. But she hadn't. She'd peeked into the forbidden garden of their bedroom and spotted Kieran kissing tears away as Alba just sobbed. Alba hadn't been so pretty when she cried.Kye considered the weight of the action now, in this moment. She wondered if Jen cried in front of Damon, if he kissed her tears away. Then the ache was back, burning at the edges of her being. She half-expected her own bout of tears, but none came. Instead, she was tilting Jen's face up towards her, like she was ready to study the universe of tears before her. Because that's what she wanted to do, wanted to see, wanted to look. She'd never have it, and this was likely as close as she'd ever get.Her lips were soft. Like the moss Kye would lay on in the trees and sleep. It was, to say the least, awkward and salty. She could taste the tears on Jen's lips, see them with her eyes still wide open. They fluttered shut, the vision of the shorter girl disappearing behind her eyelids. Part of her wondered why she'd done it, and part of her was still stuck on the fact that Jen was pretty when she cried. (hide spoiler)]
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