OF NECTAR & AMBROSIA

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

Hey! I’m Liv, I’m 22 and GMT. I’ve been in the RPC for what feels like aeons now and I’m so excited to have another roleplay of this genre round and about!!

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

Asclepius (God of medicine, healing, rejuvenation and physicians) – Male – 24-29

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Alistair Blackwell - General surgical resident at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. He shares a place in the West Village with his beagle Cooper and spends a majority of his time off in the local jazz clubs.

☆ﾟ*‧ﾟ  OOC INFO.

heya! i’m honey, i’m nineteen, my pronouns are she/her, and i’m from the gmt+1 timezone, though i’ll be in the gmt+8 timezone for the majority of mid dec-late january.

☆ﾟ*‧ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

lachesis — female. 21-25.

☆ﾟ*‧ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

gwendoline roth. philosophy student and part-time bookstore attendant. park slope, brooklyn.

☆ﾟ*‧ﾟ FACE-CLAIM.

adeline rudolph. chicha amatayakul. natasha liu bordizzo. helena howard.

☆ﾟ*‧ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

measuring life made lachesis shoulder a great responsibility often shared by her sisters but was also hers alone. there was the safety blanket of atropos and her scissors were she to overestimate and allow the thread to be longer than it should’ve been. her pride made sure she avoided ever having to resort to that safety blanket. it’s only natural for arrogance to emerge when the fate of everyone lies in her hands as well as her sisters’. it didn’t take long for her to hone her powers and it didn’t take long for her to tune out what others had to say. safe to say lachesis gained a subtle superiority complex because of her power.  those who wanted to scorn her could say what they want, because in the end, she knows everything about their fate, a prized possession only so few could know about. despite her pride, she maintained a composed demeanour most of the time, not too friendly but not too aloof either. it almost disappointed her how there was little to no element of surprise concerning the lives she was responsible for measuring, so boredom often plagued her thoughts. it’s almost laughable how trivial it sounds but that was the case for lachesis. mortals were predictable and gods were virtually the same. she always made sure they knew that.

robbed of her powers, gwen still holds onto her true traits. a quiet pride lurks underneath lazy smiles and loose hugs as a result of her memories and knowing what she was capable of. she won’t admit it, but she feels more free as a mortal. there is little to be bored about when all her knowledge and memories are of the past, the future still up for her to figure out. the unpredictability and numerous possibilities excited her, which made her quite accident-prone as a child. a new kind of recklessness and curiosity took the reins, yet those soon made way for an almost self-destructive pattern as she matured. she finds herself making the same mistakes she watched mortals make. philosophy student and bookstore attendant by the day, avid partier by the night. in this mortal body, gwen brushes hands with fear for the first time and frankly, she doesn’t mind it. with the current circumstances, she sees herself playing a role she wasn’t allowed to play before. that doesn’t necessarily mean she doesn’t want her powers back.

answer these questions: 1. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it? despite this almost-cure for the boredom that plagued her before, she’s likely to stand with the pantheon for the sake of her sisters as her loyalty to them remains strong. 2. what is their stand on mortals? indifference. currently, she finds entertainment in them that she didn’t before now that she walks among them. however, she could never see herself as one of them.

☆ﾟ*‧ GIVE US A SAMPLE OF YOUR WRITING!

2. A PREVIOUS BLOG OR A REPLY: 

[ redacted at the applicant’s request. ]

☆ﾟ*‧ ANYTHING ELSE?

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

hi! i am tessa. i am 25, my pronouns are she/her, and my timezone is CST. i work at a restaurant five nights a week, and i am also a master level student for psychology/counselling.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

HELEN OF TROY - FEMALE.  24-30

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Serena Scott. Counselor at Manhattan’s Women’s Medical. Cobble Hill, Brooklyn.

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

She never asked to be beautiful, much less hold the highest honor in that court, and if Helen had been given the option to choose to keep or leave her beauty in the shell she hatched from, there would be no hesitation in her decision to cast it aside. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. A young girl being courted by men from all over the world was a dream come true, like standing atop a mountain of clouds, offering smiles to the promises of riches and gold and happiness, Helen had no issue with the grandeur of her face. Lucky was she, fortunate enough to pick her own fate while other women were subject to the whims of men, and when she chose Menalaus, Helen foolishly believed she was choosing wisely, for when she looked at him, she saw a golden future, one that filled her completely, but that was her naivety rearing it’s ignorant head, for though she tried to be happy in the stagnant position of wife, she quickly found that her beauty was all she was wanted for. Had anyone even thought of her mind? Words? No, she was as useful as the tapestries on the walls, golden busts in the likenesses of gods, jewelry that adorned the necks of royalty. Helen was a bauble, a token to be appreciated, not even a pawn in the game. She was a pretty trinket waved around to impress.

It was not naivety that held her complacent with Paris and his proposal, nor was it overwhelming lust like so many of the stories state. Her decision was a calculated move to be more than she was, more than the choice she made from the high horse she sat on, but the artless plan did not account for the possessiveness of Menelaus. How was she to know he would throw himself into a war to get his prize back? How was she to know her beauty came with such a cost? The happiness she found on the shores of Troy quickly evaporated into the air like smoke with the sounds of approaching war, and when it was over, when her treachery brought Troy to its knees, she sailed home with Menalaus, knowing she would never be so foolish again to believe she could reach beyond the parameters given to her. That promise, of course, was forgotten with her mortal renewal.

Serena Scott was graced with the same beauty, and unfortunately, the burden that went along with it. Her parents are of the elite, her father an investment banker, her mother a transplanted southern socialite. Another bauble in a different time, but Serena was not born to please the world in this life. She wasn’t born to please anyone but herself, so it seemed, much to the dismay of her mother (who often reminded her inner beauty was a mythical legend) and her father (who wanted nothing more than to ignore the chaos his daughter reigned). By sixteen she had the party life and drug tolerance of a college student, but that all came to a screeching halt on a night she was forced not to remember. Fluorescent lighting coaxed groggy eyelids open while her parents stood bedside, and a nurse all but force fed her pills from paper cups while speaking of unwanted pregnancies and the risk of diseases. A man had taken it upon himself to use her beauty in the way he saw fit, and the idea weighed heavy on the teen’s mind for years, rolling around and tainting the once wild child’s view of the world she once thought was her oyster. Eventually the trauma filled knowledge pushed her towards a career that was not even a fraction of the lucrative (and bored) existence her parents’ planned for their only daughter. Despite their refusal to pay for college and threats to cut her off, she went to NYU, received a degree in psychology, and after completing her masters (all on student loan debt thanks to no funding from home), Serena began counseling women on how to be the masters of their own destinies, on how to protect themselves from the patriarchal society they all fell victim to. There was an intrinsic need to make sure she empowered as many women as possible, and when Helen’s memories came flooding back into her conscious, she knew it was not some singular event that held her enraged at the idea of a woman’s choice being made for her but a whole lifetime of events that put a stain on her soul.

answer these questions:

1. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?

Serena  will undoubtedly stand against pantheon, for with her memories of the past, she knows that gods meddling in the lives of mortals, of the lives of anyone but themselves, is a fate worse than death. She feels as if this time around, she’s been given a second chance, and she isn’t keen on any petty gods ruining that for her.

2. what is their stand on mortals?

To be honest? She likes mortals a heaping amount more than she likes gods, and she isn’t really afraid to give that opinion.

☆ﾟ*・ GIVE US A SAMPLE OF YOUR WRITING!

Helen stood on the balcony, eyes on the sea, on the pillows of white that stretched as far out as she could gander, wind whipping her hair and dress about her violently as a fear gripped her so tightly that her knuckles turned more pale than the stone barrier her hands clutched. The repercussions were on her now, sailing towards her with a vengeance she wasn’t sure she had the power to dismantle, nor did she have much faith in the walls of Troy to stand long enough for Menalaus’ rage to temper. Oh, how foolish was she? To think she could outrun the decision she’d made simply because it wasn’t all she dreamed? How could she, a woman, expect to be the master of her own fate? When Paris had offered her the escape, she hadn’t thought twice before her hand was in his, and now she’d dragged a whole city down with her impulsivity.

She saw the way the people looked at her, the woman who wanted more than she was dealt. Some offered her pity in their eyes, others only held daggers. Helen was used to neither, only the admiration of people who wanted to gaze upon her beauty, and so at first she was held meek, shying away from the whispers and taunts, but it was hard to remain fearful when she was given a voice in Troy, a life, a chance to be something more than a bauble on display. Slowly, she began interacting with the commoners, and she found it easy to immerse in this life, a princess of Troy, not a trophy for Sparta. Day in and day out she grew more comfortable inside the high walls that kept her safe, until the gongs of war sounded and popped her pretty little illusion to pieces at her feet.

Hard eyes watched the water, tears pricking her eyes as the apprehension of what was to come shrouded over her shoulders. Helen knew she may be able to end it all should she be brave enough to hand herself over when the boats found land, but as she stared out at the sea, watching the ships inch closer to shore, she realized she would rather die than give up so easily. “I want to live,” she heard herself say, and the sound was stronger than she felt. “I deserve to do it how I please.”

No one was there to hear her words, but it mattered not. Helen of Troy was choosing herself, no matter what the men or gods or kings wanted, no matter what wagging tongues would say to spite her, and even if she regretted it for as long as she lived, at least she had one sure moment, which was more than she’d ever had before.

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?