Post by KOBE! on Feb 23, 2008 5:25:26 GMT -5
Hello, there . . .
My name is Kobe
[/font]My name is Kobe
I am fifteen[/font] years old,
and have been roleplaying for seven[/font] years.
My favorite genre to roleplay is modern[/font].
My least favorite genre to roleplay is historical[/font].
To tell you the truth, I think I should be placed into verse or haiku[/font] because I think I write well, with no spelling or grammatical errors in my posts, and I've been told that my posts flow well and are refreshing to read.[/font].
Oh, I forgot to tell you – I heard about this site from the RPGC[/font].
So, here's my first roleplay example; its genre is Harry Potter[/font].[/center]
And here's my second example; its genre is modern
[/font].[/center]He didn’t need telling twice in order to know that his dearest mother was probably a lot more than simply ‘annoyed’ at him. That initial conversation (well, the sort-of conversation that had revolved around his sibling playing the messenger) had taken place two days ago, and in that space of time, Leo had only managed to ponder over what to get his mother as a late birthday present.
He drew several blanks.
A card seemed too cheesy and unloving; whilst a bouquet of flowers seemed like something his father would get her. At a loss for what to buy, the bartender was now skulking around the largest shopping centre in London in the hopes that a sudden lightning bolt of inspiration would strike him and he’d magically know what to buy his mother.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through puffed cheeks as he pushed his hands further into the pockets of his jeans and continued to amble along the ground floor, glancing at the various shops around him. Lush was up ahead – he could smell the incense and soaps from miles away – and he briefly mulled over getting her a set of ‘luxurious bathroom fragrances’ (as the shop called them) for her birthday.
Whipping out his mobile, it was ten seconds later that Leo had successfully dialled his sister’s number and held the object to his ear, listening to the dial tone for about three seconds before she picked up. “Maddy, you know you’re my favourite sister, right?” he wheedled, the desperation obvious in his voice, “Could you—”
“—get her a bleedin’ bunch of roses! Christ, Lee, you’re so useless sometimes!” Maddy snapped on the other end of the line, obviously fed up with her brother’s lack of ingenuity.
“Didn’t dad get her roses?” he asked after a brief pause, walking past Lush and eyeing The Bear Factory out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he could get her a bear...?
“No, he got her a French manicure set,” the youngest Kingsley huffed, and Leo almost imagined her rolling her eyes at him. He bit his lip, deciding not to go to the bear shop, and reluctantly moved on, ignoring the odd looks he was receiving. Why was shopping for a woman so bloody difficult?
“Oh.” There was a flower shop near the exit, the bartender knew that much, and he started to head east, intent on buying his mother a nice set of roses. “What else should I get her?”
“Perfume and a box of chocolates,” Maddy said simply, ending the suggestion with a sigh. “God, Lee, what would you do without me?”
“I’d fail at life,” the twenty year old provided helpfully. A few seconds later, he’d said his goodbyes to the seventeen year old and hung up, pocketing his phone and rushing towards the flower shop. Making a mental note to himself—flowers, perfume, chocolate—he found the bouquet store and spent a good fifteen minutes looking for the perfect roses he could find.
Almost an hour later, the male wandered out of the shop, clutching a rather fine-looking bunch of roses in his hand. He was flustered; the shop keeper had insisted that there were no more roses left (what with Valentine’s Day and all) and Leo had practically begged for a bouquet. Upon finding out that they were £50 each, he’d reluctantly paid the set amount and had finally exited the shop feeling drained and in need of a pick-me-up.
… which, quite obviously, was caffeine!
“Soddin’ roses,” he grumbled, storming up the escalator and towards Thornton’s, “Never knew flowers could cause so much bloody trouble.” Approximately three minutes later, he was carrying a plastic bag with a box of chocolates inside it, and heading towards Costa, no longer in the mood to shop.
Truthfully, Leo felt like an idiot as he traipsed along to the café, muttering darkly under his breath and cursing every mother in the world. Why did his mother have to be so insufferable? He was tempted to ring her and proclaim that he had her ruddy roses and her stupid chocolates and he’d deliver them shortly so that she could go and be done with it, but a part of him didn’t want to suffer her wrath any more than he had done in the past two days.
Shoving the roses and the plastic bag onto a table in the corner of the coffee shop, it took the bar tender several minutes to order a black coffee with no sugar, before he could finally settle down in his chosen corner and sip at the contents of the cup. Glancing at the passers-by through the window every-so-often, he drummed his fingers on the table and set about devising his “I’m sorry your birthday presents are so late, mum,” speech in his head.
Bloody mothers.[/size][/ul]
I would prefer it if you read my first
[/font] sample more thoroughly, because it's the start of a thread and you'll probably be able to analyse it better. It's also one of my most recent posts, although I think both examples are pretty recent.[/font].Is there anything else that I needed to tell you? Oh, by the way, `` admin approved[/font].
Pssst . . . thanks for reading this, the site is gorgeous![/font][/center]
