[10 spot]: 056. TEN moments that define you as a person.

1. The moment my father left.
2. The moment my mother died.
3. The moment I first stepped foot in Japan.
4. The moment I met Hiro.
5. The moment the arrow wound healed.
6. The moment I formed the Company.
7. The moment Kaito locked me away.
8. The moment I met Peter.
9. The moment Hiro appeared in the vault, and what came after.
10. The moment Elle rescued me.*


* -- based on RP in thetenspot/muse_erotica 'verse

OOC: Gearing up for recreating_eden

First: I am pleased to announce that lollobrigida has agreed to be my fabulous co-mod.

Second: We are still working on getting layouts done and making it look pretty and setting up the full timeline stuff, BUT. Profile/set up/rules and application posts are ready to go if people would like to get started with that.

If you've asked me to hold a character for you, they are held, (check here to make sure I didn't miss anyone) but you still need to get in an application because it includes important character creation info for the AU game and info that I need to have to keep in touch and be all modly.

If you would like to apply to be on the wait list for a character who is taken, please go ahead and do so and I'll save it. (i.e. Lots of Elles and lots of Peters running around--the first choice goes to the people who've already spoken to me, but if they don't want it/decide to leave the game, it's always nice to have back ups, yes?) If you HAVE told me you might want a character and I've said okay and now you don't want that person, PLEASE let me know, so I can give someone else a chance.

Comms: recreating_eden and eden_ooc.

Community Profile/Game Set up

Rules -- PLEASE READ THESE BEFORE APPLYING, ESPECIALLY WITH ORIGINAL OR OTHER FANDOM CHARACTERS.

Application -- Yes, it's a bit involved, but I want people to know where their muse is in a game set a year in an alternate future. :-)

Questions? Comments?

[WM] Application Prompt -- Shared Traits

What trait identifiable with your muse, is one you share, and how do you each deal with it?

There's a temptation here to say "nothing," as Adam is a very bad man, but he's a very bad man in an archetypal way that I am consistently drawn to. The very nature of that consistent draw seems to say there must be something I see in these twisted, broken characters that keeps pulling me back to them. That, however, would delve probably a bit too far into my psyche and drag out a shadow self that I much prefer to keep suppressed, at least in the context of a writing prompt.

So for ease of discussion and privacy from the pokings of my innermost dark-side, I shall pick something closer to the surface, and say that Adam and I share a sense that things are just too easy sometimes. We're both looking for a challenge—something to keep life from being boring.

Adam is nearly 400 years old, and unlike Highlander Immortals, he has lived that time without others of his kind. He doesn't have a sense of fitting in, of being part of something larger, except for the groupings of the evolved humans—but even those he has known grow old and die while he moves through time, ageless. Manipulating Peter into seeing things his way and helping him was just too easy. Biding his time to take his revenge was easy, when he knew he had eternity. Getting the information on where the virus was—too easy. Killing Kaito Nakamura—too easy. So, he looks for challenges. Working to get Nathan on his side is a challenge. Swaying others of the good guys to see things his way—or at least not lock him up again—is a challenge. Convincing Hiro to stay with him, after he's killed his father, is a challenge. Putting his plan all together, and his vision for what he would like to build the world into once he has destroyed most of it is a challenge. This is what keeps him going and why he's always searching for something more. Eternity has made him restless, bored, dissatisfied, and he's looking for something to fill that void. There's more to his plan than that, of course. He has a real vision he wants to give to the world. But for the things he does day to day and the way he moves people about like pawns on his chessboard—I really think release from boredom is a big part of it.

I know what that's like. I drifted through school on a cloud of daydreams, getting straight A's even in the honors classes because it was too easy. College, grad school, and law school—I graduated with honors after every degree and barely studied. Working as an attorney now—I get my work done to high praise, and still write my novel and RP from work. I juggle writing, work, friendships and a social life, filling up my calendar just to keep from getting bored. I'm always on the go, always looking for new things while keeping up my commitments to the old ones, just to keep things fresh and interesting and hoping that there will eventually be something that's an actual challenge to either my intelligence or my skills, or both. Happily, I haven't felt the need to try and take over the world to keep from getting bored, as my muse has, nor have I decided to see just what I can get other people to do for fun, but I can understand what drives him to it, and that makes for far more interesting writing, because in a lot of ways it makes him unpredictable, and that's always fun.

[FM] December Prompt -- Do You Have Faith?

I thank Thee that many of my prayers have been refused. I have asked amiss and do not have, I have prayed from lusts and been rejected, I have longed for Egypt and been given a wilderness. Go on with Thy patient work, answering 'no' to my wrongful prayers, and fitting me to accept it.*

There was no catechism left, no pageantry, no mystery. Not that I knew them, for Cromwell came to power before I could differentiate or feel the loss. There were hard pews and hard stares, and cold rooms in winter and hot rooms in summer, with nothing to bring any bodily relief from the press of humanity as we sought to elevate our souls. There were quirts falling sharp when words stumbled for in pain was purification and in debasement was deliverance. The flesh was weak. The men who visited our mothers were proof of that. The flesh was wickedness. We were the fruit of temptresses like the serpent in the garden, twisting men from the path. The world fell in the mire and there would be no rejoicing until He came once more.

I lost all faith in my god, in his religion too
I told the angels they could sing their songs to someone new
I lost all trust in my friends
I watched my heart turn to stone
I thought that I was left to walk this wicked world alone**

The theatres reopened, and women trod the stage. The brands that burned her skin were cast fully into the fires to shod the returned monarch's horses. Then another fire sparked from a baker's banked oven and hellfire raged across a sinful city, wiping out the old to make way for the new. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust and there was nothing left of any of them to place in a pauper's grave. The ship wound itself away from a city, and I didn't look back.

I confess my sin, my frequent sin, my willful sin; all my powers of body and soul are defiled: a fountain of pollution is deep within my nature. There are chambers of foul images within my being; I have gone from one odious room to another, walked in a no-man's-land of dangerous imaginations, pried into the secrets of my fallen nature. I am utterly ashamed that I am what I am in myself; I have no green shoot in me nor fruit, but thorns and thistles; I am a fading leaf that the wind drives away; I live bare and barren as a winter tree, unprofitable, fit to be hewn down and burnt.*

Another fire, another loss, hell closing tight around and running over me, and yet I walked from the flames, strong and whole, cleansed and new, with nothing before me and the man I was lost in the dust. War came in the night, and death and blood at my hands. A pale horse with eyes of flame and ice stretching across the world, destruction trailing in my shadow, a world wilting in my wake. Aimless. Rootless. A man out of time, with no name, no country, no purpose, watching time slide itself by into an endless abyss darker than the reaches of the human soul.

And I had lost touch with reason
I watched life criticize the truth
Been waiting for a miracle
I know you have too**

They came, one by one, fashioned from dirt and breath, breathed into life by the force of the strands imprinting themselves on cells below the surface of what could be seen. Different. Special. Chosen. Godsend. A new man, a new being, emerging out of the dying pains of the old, shaping himself into something the world had not seen before. From the old will come the new in a flash of fire. The old self is put off, in its corruption and deceitful desire, renewed by the spirit, replaced by a new self made in the image of God.

Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly, Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision, where I live in the depths but see Thee in the heights; hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory. Let me learn by paradox that the way down is the way up, that to be low is to be high, that the broken heart is the healed heart, that to have nothing is to possess all, that to bear the cross is to wear the crown, that to give is to receive, that the valley is the place of vision.*

From death comes life, and from sacrifice renewal. From chaos comes creation. When the Chosen one comes, and opens the six seals, it will usher in the millennium of peace, a world reborn, arising to paradise. Pure. Cleansed. Sanctified. Forever and ever, amen.

If I don’t believe in Jesus, how can I believe the pope?
If I don’t believe in heroin, how can I believe in dope?
If there’s nothing but survival, how can I believe in sin?
In a world that gives you nothing
We need something to believe in**


* From various Puritan prayers
**"Something to Believe In" - Jon Bon Jovi