-Paragraph format role-playing ONLY.
-Literate and eligible grammar,
-I'm only willing to role-play with well developed OC's, (There are too many god-moding Mary-sues out there.)
-You're only in control of YOUR own character, not anyone else's. (Original character's from the show may be controlled if not already being role-played by someone)
-Please, please, be able to stay on topic with the events in the role-play, no fast-forwarding to other events unless agreed upon.
NOTE; If you are roleplaying an OC, please do show me their Bio/Description so that I know whom they are and so forth.
[Here's my OC, just so those who are joining will know whom she is]
Merlonne's Bio; wolvielovsdezi.deviantart.com/…
Setting; Rural Georgia [Senoia]
People are always asking me if I'm afraid to die, and most day's I'd of given that someone the solid answer of, "Shit, No!" but, as of right now -- I was scared, horrified. And to tell you the truth, there's no word for that heart-stopping feeling you get when you see your own fate flashing before your eyes. It's that static sensation in your feet, like your dreamin' of freefalling into a lightless abyss. It's that hitch of air, hard in your throat, that you just can't swallow -- and when you do, you choke on it, wheezing & begging with a nonexistent god that it's not your last breath.
Facing death is a lot harder to do when you've got people you care about in your life. Simple tasks like supply-runs, and hunting could end up being your last, and then you end up realizing that you're risking it all -- Your life, Their life, and that's a scary fact. You start to really think about the world, you start to think about how fast you could lose someone -- It almost makes you not want to be in love, or be in a group, or with other people. But, the way I see it -- If you ain't got nothing to live for...then you ain't got nothing to die for neither.
In this world now, I'd like to think that facing death would get old -- that I'd get used to it, eventually, but it's not like that, No, it's much more complex than that. When you get down to it, Death's not scary, it's not easy to avoid or ignore; Death's the only thing that's reminding us that we're alive. And, right about now, I was regretting that fact. Not the fact of being alive, the fact that; if I didn't make it back to camp, someone was gonna grieve deeply for me, and I wasn't about to come to terms with that. No one should have to suffer for me, because I was too damn foolish to be careful.
Blood spilled out over my chapped lips, filling the creases with it's metallic taste, stinging the skin beneath it. Did you know, you can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick? As disgusting as the taste of my own blood was, I paid no mind to it, my concentration was focused on the wound I'd received earlier that day. My pale hazel gaze shot down to the puncture wound on my torso, it was still bleeding, despite the tight tourniquet I had wrapped around my body. I could already hear my father saying, "Why don'tcha take that damn arrow out, you dummy?" My fingers slowly traced over the bolt, a sharp pain shot through me as I did. "FU--ck..." I snarled through gritted teeth.
Today had started off as a normal day. I'd spent the morning hunting, minding my own damn business, until the sound of a gunshot shattered the silence of the woods. And as for me, winding up in a damn ravine -- Well, that's a short story...I fuckin' fell. No, not just any normal fall, I'm talking thrown off the back of a startled stallion, fall. All of this because of one damn gun-shot. So, now I was knee-deep in shallow water, sand and mud causing my balance to sink under me. My breathing was loud and made my struggling obvious, not that any one would hear me. I was too far away from the farm for anyone to have heard me. I'd been out here for hours, and I doubt anyone besides Shane had noticed my absence.. "Damm-it, Mel'...pull th' damned thang out..." I growled to myself.
Hesitation grasped my arms, holding them in place, forcing me to pause from my actions -- The bolt from my crossbow chaffed against my inner muscle, causing not only great pain, but discomfort. I was scared of the pain, I didn't know why I was, but I was. This wound was not nearly close enough to my vital organs to cause me to bleed out, but still I hesitated, asking myself; "What would Dad do?"
"He'd tell you t' man th' fuck up, and rip that shit out!" I spat to myself aloud, the sudden surge of aggression caused my body to flex against the bolt, rendering me a cripple as pain clawed at my side. I let out a choking growl as more blood crawled up my throat, spilling down my chin. Something wasn't right -- a simple injury like this wouldn't cause internal bleeding, but what the fuck did I know? I wasn't a fucking doctor. "Geddupp--Geddupp..." I wheezed, spitting up a mist of blood as I did.
My hands poorly tugged through the wet grains of muddy sand as I attempted to pull myself from the pool of creek water and blood. With a great amount of effort, I'd managed to drag myself to shore, but I'd only exhausted myself to the point of passing out -- My chest heaved rapidly as I laid awkwardly on my back, my legs in a twist under me, but I was too weak to outstretch them. I was only moments away from just blacking out, I could feel it -- the static sensation of my limbs going numb with the lack of circulation. My head rolled back, resting on the hard sandy gravel beneath me, and it suddenly felt too heavy for my neck to support -- My lips gaped open as I tried to suck in as much air as my lungs would let me, only a few hacking coughs here-and-there; Looking up at the gnarl of tree, branches, leaves, and sunlight above me, I found myself letting go -- And as my vision began to blur, the treetops seemed to fuse with the sky making everything look like a Jackson Pollock painting, but before I could enjoy another second of the sight, everything faded to black.