TRP is a post-Great War AU RWBY RP set in Mistral City and Haven Academy with no canons, no rank claims, no maidens, and no god interference. We offer a progression system and site-wide events that change the setting based on player actions.
The soft moonlight reflected slightly in the lid of the silver locket currently in Ryan's hand. Lying down in the grass of an outer yard of Haven's training facilities, he silently rubbed the photograph inside. Letting out a quiet sigh, he closed the locket and stored it in a pocket of his suit's jacket. This was such a beautiful school. If he'd been able to enjoy it with Aarden.
'Come on, lil' bro. That was an accident,' A familiar, yet distinct voice spoke softly in his head. That could only mean one thing.
'Hey, Aarden,' Ryan thought in response, a smile forming on his lips. 'You've been silent for a while, haven't you?'
'I thought you needed time to think. After all, you refused in all ways possible to come up here via Airship."
Ryan frowned. 'No way in hell I'm going near one of those things-' He could fell how Aadren rolled his eyes. 'Besides, taking one of those was a waste of time. I can walk.'
'Like I said, Ryan. That was an accident.'
Sighing again, Ryan rubbed his face with both hands before replying. 'Accident or not, I'm not going near an Airship,' Ryan waited for a couple of minutes, but there was no response. 'Aarden?' No response. Sighing yet again, Ryan sat up as his eyes turned up towards the shattered moon. It was always the same. Aarden would appear and disappear with an 'It was an accident.' Why couldn't he understand that Ryan was damn well aware that I had been an accident? But who was he? There was no way for it to be Aarden since he was... gone. So with who, or what, Ryan usually talked to?
He shook his head. This was not the time for it. If he has time to get philosophical, then he has time to train. It was late at night, and he wasn't tired, so there were better ways to spend his time.
After getting up and stretching for a little while, he took off his jacket and placed it softly on the ground. After that, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled them up. Cracking his neck, he grabbed his sword, which was lying nearby, and slowly unsheathed it. Dropping the sheat, he looked up at the moon for a final time before starting to attack, parry and evade around an invisible target.
Post by Jack Dawson Jr. on Sept 1, 2019 0:52:02 GMT -5
Scorpion sting, I don't wanna
tell me that I'm not
The soft chattering of birds nestled in their treetops above was always something the young man strolling through the training grounds could take solace in. It was a comforting thing. Maybe it was just him, and other faunus didn't think the same way, but hearing the honking squawks of sleepy crows brought peace to Junior. A sense of serenity, in a world often lacking it. Couldn't everyone just be quiet once in a while and enjoy the peaceful moonlit night?
It was his favorite time to train. Not that training was especially something he was good at- he was a good enough fighter to get into Haven, but that bar was set damn low. He was fooling nobody here; he'd been let in primarily on the merits of his semblance. Which was something he was satisfied with. That was where his skills truly shone- he was a healer, not a warrior.
But, if he'd learned anything from his mom and sister, it was that there was a damn good reason the title was "combat" medic, and not "daisy-picking medic," or "tap-dancing medic."
So he pressed onward toward the training grounds, his falchion drawn, buckler strapped onto his arm. Of course, he wasn't going to engage in any battle- none that he had planned for, anyways. His goal was to simply run through his forms and practice swinging the heavy short sword around. It was his weapon now, after all, and he still needed to acclimate to it. Especially given the stress it put on his body at times- his health wasn't too bad because of his bones, but he was still pretty fragile. Fortunately, the Doctor here at the Academy was more than capable of mending whatever microfractures he sustained as part of any strenuous training session, if he didn't treat them himself. Something he was proud to say he could do fairly well, given the supplies.
Stepping onto the grassy wide open space, he cocked his head a bit as he noticed that he wasn't alone. A rather tall young man was seemingly having the very same thought as him. Hopefully he would leave Jack alone- it wouldn't be the first time he'd gone somewhere to train and been met with violence and hate. Such was the life of a faunus, especially one who was as noticeably different as Jack.
Suddenly self-conscious, he made a small effort to tuck his wings inward, pressing against his back.
It didn't do much- they were large, and quite noticeable, no matter what he did to hide them. He could hide his wings no more than he could hide his height. But it did give him a small sense of security as he took a spot, a good few meters away from the other trainee, eyeing him carefully, but with a neutral expression. He didn't seem immediately hostile, so that was good, for now.
Content with the other trainee's seeming lack of aggression, he too began to spar with an invisible opponent, wildly swinging his blade through the air several times, before dodging to the side, shield up, turning it ever so slightly, to deflect the pretend attack- while many used shields to eat hits and absorb the damage, a solid hit on his buckler could easily shatter his forearm, so he had developed a technique for rolling blows off of his shield, rather than facing them head on. He was good at that.
This continued for quite a while, but even as he trained diligently, every so often, his silvery eyes would catch sight of the other swordsman, and linger for just a moment too long. He was still trying to gauge the young man's threat level, even though it appeared that the boy had no intentions of harming Jack. Still. Could never be too careful...
@redhood ● WC: 636 ● TWC: 636 ● aw boi crowboi is finally happen
Only a couple minutes had passed until Ryan heard his solitude being interrupted. Not wanting to stop his routine to see the new arrival, he simply waited for when he could do so while moving around his target. Connecting what sights he could get from him, he assembled a picture of the other trainee.
He was a guy, tall, but not as much as Ryan. Although tall, he seemed to be quite slim. Well, whatever, if he was here to train then Ryan would leave- Wait, wings?! Slowing down slightly, Ryan saw with his own eyes that the other trainee indeed had wings in his arms. So, in other words, he was a Faunus.
Ryan's father, having been a Huntsman when the Faunus Rights Revolution started, he shouldn't have involved in the war but he went and did so in the Faunus side, after leaving Aarden and Ryan under their sole living Uncle, who was also a Huntsman but remained neutral in the war. So he took over their training until his father returned. During his time in the Great War, his father had met quite a few Faunus and gained quite a fondness for them. He never explained why. But whatever where his reasons, he made sure that his sons at least held respect for them after he returned from the war. But Ryan had that and something more.
Ever since he started to draw, Ryan took immediately liking in drawing people. And even a higher one in drawing Faunus. There was something about them that was simply funny to draw. But still, he couldn't. So no, he wouldn't do it. No, he wouldn't. ... ... Fuck it. He had near him a Faunus like never other he had seen before. The temptation was simply unbereable. Stopping his session, Ryan sheathed his sword and dropped it near his jacket. Pulling his silver notebook out of it and a pencil, he sat down in the grass, being careful of not doing it facing at the Faunus trainee. Looking at him with the corner of his eye from time to time, he started to draw him.
He just hoped that he didn't saw him doing it. Who knows how he may react. Word Count: 370 Total Count: 762
Last Edit: Sept 2, 2019 23:34:07 GMT -5 by Deleted
Post by Jack Dawson Jr. on Sept 4, 2019 16:02:13 GMT -5
Scorpion sting, I don't wanna
tell me that I'm not
Strike. Block. Roll.
Jack wasn't exactly the most dignified of warriors, with his at-times clumsy form, and his less than stellar swings of the sword. Fortunately, his father's blade was one made for someone like him- a falchion, slightly too top-heavy, making even the mildest swings stronger through sheer physics. Which was good- he didn't have the muscles for a claymore or a broadsword, and lacked the precision for really any polearm. A sword and shield was simple, plain. But it was effective at its job, for sure.
But even as he trained, he couldn't help but continue glancing over occasionally at the tall boy off to his side. And what's more, it felt like that guy was looking at him too... It was an uncomfortable sensation, most definitely. And one that was not going away any time soon. However, it was a feeling he was familiar with. People stared. That was life. You don't go around with massive feathery wings and not get stared at by most people. At least it seemed restricted to simple staring now. Some others weren't nearly so kind. He still remembered the time a kid had tried yanking one of his wings off, when he was little... Merla put a stop to that, immediately, when she saw the one-sided fight on her way to her own classes. They didn't try pulling on her wings. Or anyone's, after that incident.
He missed her. Desperately.
And that only fueled his fighting spirit as he thrusted, slashed, and cut at the night air. She was his reason for doing this. Had she not died, he might have been content working at the restaurant until their parents were old and grey, then taking over the family business. Or maybe even striking out on his own. He'd always wanted to dance. But now? There was a hole in the world, and he couldn't fill it, but he could come damn closer than anyone else ever could.
Big sis... Just tell me what to do... How to live. Unlike Aarden, however, Merla said nothing. She hadn't, since The Fall.
It was painfully ironic. That a vehicle he would never need could end so many lives in such a short span of time. Meaningful lives. His sister was a hero, and not just to him. She had saved countless lives in the Faunus War, just as their mother had in the Great War before that. And for a little while, between the fighting and her untimely death, she had been Haven faculty, a Doctor and a teacher. It was a damn shame that many of the students she taught died with her.
He let slip a pained grunt, small and soft, as he threw a strike too hard on his shoulder, recoiling from the sharp pain. A quick inspection revealed that it was fine, just tender and sore, so he set his sword back in its sheath and moved to sit down on the grass. However, from the corner of his eye, he happened to notice that the strange young man was still there. He'd nearly forgotten about him, honestly.
What was he doing...?
It looked as if he was writing, or drawing something in a notebook... And where before, he'd only been making passing glances at the corvid faunus, now he was angled towards him, seated and clearly caught up in whatever he was jotting down. Peculiar.
Curiosity outweighed common sense. At any rate, if the guy did try to attack him if he approached, it wasn't like he hadn't been in a fight before. And now, he didn't need his sister to save him from getting his ass kicked. Much, anyways.
Carefully, and quietly, he strode over to the young man's spot on the grass, and let his gaze fall on the notebook. As he approached, he could definitely make out the shape of the drawing. Was that... Him?
It certainly seemed so. He wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or uncomfortable, so he leaned towards both. Still- in spite of the oddness inherent in being drawn by a stranger, he couldn't help but appreciate the detail taken on his wings. And at the least, the drawings seemed fairly innocuous enough.
So, softly, with a faint but gentle smile, he noted, "You're pretty good." It was a little amusing. He had no doubt as to why he might have been the subject of the drawing, honestly. His appearance was admittedly exotic to most. Didn't make it any less awkward, but it made sense. At least this guy's reaction was fascination, as opposed to anger.
It had been the same with Holly. Whatever he doesn't want to happen is the first damn thing that has to happen. 'Hey, whoever is up there, did I piss you off in a past life or some shit like that?!' And of course, there was no response. Though, being honest, he wouldn't know what to do if he did get o-
'Yes, you did you four e-'
'Not the fucking time, Aarden!' Ryan bellowed inside his head. With his hands up in surrender, Aarden faded into the place in Ryan's brain he used to hide when not talking. Taking a deep, though stealthy, breath to calm himself. First of all. he had to explain himself, even if the other guy didn't ask for one, it was best to do it as early as he could to avoid misunderstandings. Closing his silver notebook, he pulled the black one out and wrote.
"Thanks. I like to draw. And Faunus are pretty cool to draw. Cool wings, by the way," and showed it to him while thinking of the best way to escape.
uhm, open ground. Yep, if things got sour. His Semblance would save his ass once again.
Post by Jack Dawson Jr. on Sept 8, 2019 0:32:48 GMT -5
Scorpion sting, I don't wanna
tell me that I'm not
It was almost amusing.
He hadn't meant to spook the guy this bad, but the look on his face as he complimented the artwork was a little priceless. Had he really believed he was being stealthy? Hopefully not, because if that was his attempt at stealth, it was pretty bad. Or maybe Junior was just especially perceptive. Maybe someone else might not have noticed him.
He was curious now, though- for a moment, it seemed like the guy was putting away his notebook, and the hurriedness of the action made Jack's feathers bristle just a hair- he settled down, though, as he realized he was just swapping that notebook for a different one. Still an odd reaction, nonetheless, until he saw the guy write something down and turn the page to face him.
Jack, trying not to tower over the boy while he was sitting down, popped a squat in front of him, reading the words again. Hmm... He wasn't sure how to feel about the compliment, but it seemed like it came from a good place. Though he didn't especially feel too comfortable about the fact that this guy thought of Faunus as "cool to draw." It wasn't as bad as thinking of them as "cool to punch," or "cool to mock," but knowing that the reason he was drawing him was because of his race wasn't exactly ideal either.
He scratched at the side of his neck, and unconsciously averted his eyes. "Uhh, yeah. Thanks." An awkward silence fell over the pair, as one plotted escape, and the other wondered what to say or do next. He knew approaching the guy was a bad idea.
"I'm uh... Jack." He gestured next to the boy's sword, pointing at it with a faint, awkward, smile. "I um. D-didn't expect to f-find anyone else out here this late. Cool sword."
Well this sure was a fine and intellectual discourse, between two exceptionally gifted conversationalists.
'Neither did i,' Ryan replied on his mind. 'And that's why we're in this fucking situation to begin with.'
Well, it seemed that the guy liked his sword. An oddity in today's era. Ever since coming into Haven, person after person who saw his sword would either smirk, snicker or outright laugh at the sight of it. Calling it an outdated piece of equipment. So far Ryan had bee na ble to keep his temper in check when it came to dealing with those sort of people. But every person had a limit when it came to your most precious belongings being ridiculed.
Though.... what now? He had no idea whatsoever of how to keep even the smallest of chats going on, in the initiation this shone a lot of times. Running away was, and always will, be an option. But these seemed to be a relative nice guy and Ryan didn't wanted to, once again, end up looking like a jerk to someone who complimented Aarden. Going into full overdrive, one could possibly even see the steam going off his ears as his brain struggled to come with anything to try to at least create a way of ending this excuse of a conversation in a polite way. And then, in a spark of socialily that may never happen again, Ryan thought of a way of doing so. Writing it down, he showed it to the Faunus who know was squatted in front of him.
"Thanks. i forged him myself," Taking notice of the guy similar weaponry he added. "Did you forge yours too? i'm Ryan, by the way." Word Count: 270 Total Count: 1234
Last Edit: Sept 10, 2019 14:07:34 GMT -5 by Deleted
Post by Jack Dawson Jr. on Sept 17, 2019 6:22:45 GMT -5
Scorpion sting, I don't wanna
tell me that I'm not
It was interesting, responding to written words in the notebook. It gave him a little more time to process and chew on the exact way Ryan 'spoke.'
Like the fact that he referred to his sword as "him." It was a little intriguing to say the least.He smiled with a hint less awkwardness than before, but was still noticeably uncomfortable as he crouched near his fellow swordsman. "N-nice to meet you, Ryan. No, I didn't forge my w-weapons, they were um. They were my uh, father's." He gestured first to the sword, then to the shield. "Crow, and Rook. He had them from uh. From before the Great War. You um. C-called your sword he? Does he uh. Does he have a name?" As he spoke, he stared not at Ryan, but into his buckler, studying the old, battered and worn emblem on the shield. His family crest, he supposed it could be called. In truth, he didn't know how old it was, and neither did his father, but for as long as he could remember, his family had identified with it.
An old raven, thundering through the sky in flight. It would almost be poetic, if it weren't so damn literal.
The monikers his dad had given the set of weapons was equally on-the-nose; like his son, Jack Sr. was a jackdaw faunus, and unlike his son, he was big enough, burly enough, and strong enough, to handle himself well, if anybody tried messing with him over his wings. Junior wasn't anything like that- he was small, weak, and bullied regularly. Where his dad was proud of who they were, and what they were, and was confident enough in that to show no fear in reflecting their birdlike nature, Junior was also proud of his family, and his race, but in a different way, almost in spite of everyone else- he didn't go around showing it off, but instead tried hard to stay strong through the negative reactions and poor treatment. It was hard at times, but looking at the emblem on his shield just reminded him that it was a part of him. And as long as there was a fight to be fought, it was his duty to be there, fighting for it. That was what his shield and sword meant to him.
It made him wonder, though, as he awaited Ryan's answer; what did this boy's sword mean to him?
Slowly, his eyes turned towards the sheathed blade resting at his side. With a wide smile, at least wide to him since for most people, he was only grinning, he caressed the leather sheath with utmost care and love as a flood of memories of its forging filled his head. The so many failed attempts; the sheer amount broken swords, over-heated ones, the ones that literally exploded as soon as they touched the water. The time where they put their hands in the forge for shits and giggles. Yeah, good times.
Cleaning a solitary tear that somehow escaped his eyes, he wrote his reply as the memories repeated themselves over and over his head. Threatening to make him spill more of that forsaken water.
"His name is Aarden. I called him after my brother." Word Count: 134 Total Count: 1,368
Post by Jack Dawson Jr. on Oct 12, 2019 22:32:35 GMT -5
Scorpion sting, I don't wanna
tell me that I'm not
Named for Ryan's brother. He watched the tear streak quietly from the other guy's eye, almost imperceptible if he weren't paying attention. It told him everything he needed to know. Jack nodded slowly, understanding implicitly, the implication behind that naming decision. His own weapons were older, already christened with their names, and he hadn't felt the desire to change them, nor to take up a new one, but he had wanted to honor Merla in much the same way at first, right after the Fall. He didn't know how Aarden had died, but he didn't imagine it was easy for Ryan. No easier than it was for him, with his sister. He didn't say anything immediately, just looked at Ryan's sword, then met his eyes with an understanding stare for a moment.
"I see..." Time passed in awkward silence, as he was unsure of what to say. Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke up again. "So you're um... also kind of uh. N-new here, yeah?"
@murderpal● WC: 172 ● TWC: 2313 ● bleh short af but it's a post