The Magical RP
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:29pm
Thread Topic: The Magical RP
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I do third person. However, what's the difference between script and lit? xD
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Well script is the thing with these little stars for actions like this *licks Dark's ear because I can*
"And lit is when it's written like this," Mia explained. -
Oh! I call script RPing and lit Soaping. xD I do both, but in this case, we can do lit.
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Oh xD I didn't know that .x.
I guess I'll start now! -
Harry had always tended to hang around the same area. He slept behind a bar, with the loads of drunkards who couldn't get rides home, so that he'd blend in with the crowd. After all, he didn't want the cops to find him. If they did, he'd probably get life in jail, and that just wasn't an option. One day, around four in the afternoon, he was wandering around town, when he suddenly heard a gunshot and a tearing pain in his leg. Without thinking, he started running, until he'd managed to outrun the (honestly quite fat) policeman that'd been after him. He found himself in front of a house, and went to sit on the front porch, looking at his leg. The bullet hadn't actually gone into his leg, it had only grazed the side of it, so that he was bleeding down his leg.
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It's fine, I have a weird way of thinking.
Gideon was sitting in his living room, his eyes transfixed on the T.V. The fugitive had been shot- the first time in the past week he had been heard of. His eyes widened as they said that he had last been seen running past a neighborhood that was only a few blocks away. He was interested in this person, and he might just get to meet him! It didn't scare him at all. As he continued to think about it, he heard some footsteps on his porch. He frowned, shutting the T.V. off. He didn't have any plans with anyone today. -
Harry swallowed heavily. In this position, there was nowhere he had to go, and with his leg like this, he had to do something. The blood was starting to leak down from his shoes to stain the porch, and Harry groaned at this. Just as he was starting to think up a plan to hide somewhere, he heard footsteps in the house approaching the door. He couldn't run, so he turned around to see if anyone was going to come outside.
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Gideon paused, backing up to the kitchen. He grabbed a knife, walking back to the door. With a deep breath, he opened his door. He calmly walked out of his house. He saw the fugitive sitting there. His face lost all color. "U-Um.. Um.. You!" He blurted out. His eyes locked on the wound on his leg. It proved that he was the real deal.
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Harry went equally as pale, especially when he saw the weapon the man at the door was weilding. He was unarmed himself, so he shakily stood up, putting all of his weight on his unwounded leg. "Wh- hey, buddy, pal, look, I'm going..." He said, holding out his hands to show he had no weapons.
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He bit his lip, looking at his now bloodied hands. He had wanted to meet the man, hadn't he? "You.. You don't need to go. You better come in before the cops see me talking to you." He sighed, leaning against the door to keep it open. He knew this would turn out to be a bad idea, but he couldn't help it.
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Harry paused. Should he trust a total stranger who was holding a knife. "Uhm... Put down the kitchen utensil first, please. I'd rather not be stabbed in the back on my way in."
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Gideon set the knife down on the floor, kicking it away into a corner. "There. Hurry up and get inside." He looked out at the neighboring houses. It seemed like they were safe. No one was outside or looking out their widows. He looked at the other boy with a curious look on his face. "Why're you afraid that I'd stab someone like you?"
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Harry hesitated, but without any other option, he hurried inside as quickly as he could with his injured leg. "Because I'm a criminal with a price on my head, dead or alive."
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"Tch! I'm not that kind of a person." Gideon closed the door behind him, sighing. "I guess it's reasonable that you wouldn't know anything about me, though. You've never met me.."
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"And you've never met me, yet you let me in your house," Harry replied, sitting himself down on the couch in the foyer. "The news shows me as a crazy murderer on the run. You're either really stupid to think that and still let me in, or very intelligent to know it's not true."
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