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SophiaTsu

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About SophiaTsu

  • Rank
    Newly Spawned
  • Birthday 12/10/2001

Contact Methods

  • Discord
    SophiaTsu#3332
  • Minecraft Username
    sophia_may_sing

Profile Information

  • Location
    Deep in your girl's dms
  • Interests
    Doja Cat

Character Profile

  • Character Name
    Alli Ruse Onfroi
  • Character Race
    FarFolk (Qalasheen)

Recent Profile Visitors

366 profile views
  1. Dame Alli Onfroi would read over the document and place a wet towel on Hadvar’s forehead when she was finished. “Very good, dear,” She said, smiling and making sure he was tucked in bed tight enough.
  2. Dame Alli Onfroi looks over the missive and nods approvingly. “Stressful, aye. But wo’th et ef deres no mo’e bandets.”
  3. Alli sniffed a bit, tears brimming her eyes, but consciously not letting them run down her cheeks. ”Rest wit de Gods, sista. Lay at peace.” She then folds up the missive and places it in her diary on her night table.
  4. “Good lad,” Alli Onfroi smiled. “Still alive.”
  5. Dame Alli Onfroi had kept the note on her dining table for weeks now, tucked under her potted plant, collecting dust and the occasional droplets when Alli went to give the flower some water. She refused to read it, having it been brought home by one of her sons, who had asked her painfully when his father was to return home. Alli told them it was time for bed in tight lips and a strained face, avoiding the question altogether. She was tired. Now a widow of twin boys, alone and desperate in such a big, empty house, the letter waited patiently for her to read and digest not only her husband's fate but her fate aswell.
  6. Alli squints her eyes at the paper, a thin smile on her face. “These women...pish an proper.” She sighs. “Not all of us be ladylike. An weh shouldn’t beh forced ta beh.”
  7. SophiaTsu

    To Be Wed

    A cold winter evening, a knock at the door, and Alli was stumbling downstairs. “Coming!” She called, glancing at her pale new parrot Fiona before opening the front door. To much of her surprise (and impatience), none other than Marshal Ser Stefan the Shark Onfroi was waiting behind the spruce door. He was looking posh, as usual, though his face was unveiled. It was the first time she ever really got to study him. She didn’t know he had such sky blue eyes. “Hullo,” she greeted, tapping her foot, hand still on the door. “Can I help ye?” “Just a mandatory check-” his sentence was cut off when his eyes met hers. It was almost as though he was at a loss for words. “Can I come in, actually?” A sly smile was playing on his lips. Alli looked at him curiously. “Yus, sure. Come in.” Ser Stefan walked inside, eyes scouring the room. “Lovely place you have here.” He noticed the bird perched on the dining chair. “Nice bird.” Alli nodded, but otherwise ignored his small talk -after all, it had been two years and she still did not have a single clue who this strange hero was. Or what he wanted. “Can I help ye?” The sly smile grew wider. “Actually yes, you can.” Then, suddenly, his hand was behind her back, drawing her in for a long kiss. Alli didn’t know whether she should move or not, but the blood in her veins rushed to her head and her cheeks were hot. She remained still until he pulled away, brushing the hair from her face to behind her ear. “You are such a beautiful woman.” Alli couldn’t help but scoff. “If dirt is beautiful, then aye.” She looked to the floor, false grin masking her unhappiness. “I was a farmer, too, you know,” he lifted her face by his finger. “And I know beauty when i see it.” Then once again, Alli’s lips were met with his. He was warm, so warm. And so familiar. Afterwards, they tightly held each other in an overdue hug. Alli felt tears brimming her eyes. “Ye even smell like him...how’s that possible...” She didn’t have to say his name for Ser Stefan to understand. He pulled her even closer, which she didn’t think was possible. Later that evening, Ser Stefan popped the question of whether Alli would give him her hand in marriage, officially becoming one of the noble Onfroi’s. It was announced to the rest of Darrowmere in the courtyard and the date has yet to be set.
  8. “Oi!” Exclaims Alli Ruse. “I know ‘er! Good on her, what a fine lass she is.”
  9. Catherine held tight to her sides. She rocked back and forth, eyes glued to her bare toes. Tears were starting to escape her, though they were strangely not accompanied by any sound. She was just sitting there on the wooden floor, cold, lost, face wet. That was her existence at the moment. And she didn’t think too much of it. All she could see was his face. His dark skin, his curly hair, his spectacles. His laugh echoed in her head and she shook out of fear. She could imagine his hands closing in on her; she could still feel his fingers on the back of her head, pulling her closer. That’s when the first sob escaped. This boy...this creature...Catherine couldn’t even bear saying his name. He had violated her and she felt like she was no longer in control of herself. She felt dirty. She felt like she was no longer human, but rather a rag doll. And that’s all she was to him. That boy. She was just a doll. A disposable one, at that. The shaking became more violent. Her face burned and her nails dug deep into the palms of her hands. She was now muttering to herself, trying to stabilize and ground herself from what she knew would become a moment of reliving the past if she didn’t pull herself out of the trance fast enough. Alas, unfortunately for Catherine, it was too late. Once again, she was living two months ago. They were at a pond together, sharing sweet nothings and kisses. But he had more plans in store. Oh, how Catherine had escaped her mind, how she had tried not to exist during those few seconds when he did as he pleased, but she couldn’t help but cry. The water was burning the back of her neck. She gagged. And once again, she was back to reality. The present. Her tears had dried, her shaking had ceased. She was all alone, once again. The End
  10. I also think that if there was actual monk rp, there should be farms added, too, because i know when i started, i needed food but i didnt have any (until i voted, but that was only a 16 stack). Small, npc’s, shops, pits, mine, farms, and monk rp imo
  11. Elijah and His Hole Elijah was never one for war. In fact, he had a strong distaste for it. Swords and bows and battleaxes and whatnot would send him straight to the nearest compost bin. So, when he heard that there was to be a draft to fight against the enemies drawing nearer and nearer to his humble town, Elijah picked up all his belongings he could fit into a small cloth bag and marched out the door. Elijah was also not a man of directions, nor schedules and plans. For days, he wandered aimlessly, stopping occasionally to sit and eat whilst glaring at a squirrel, as if challenging it to make a slight towards him and his meal. It was when Elijah made it to a clearing that he realized he had found a new place to stay. Quiet. Empty. Peaceful from the edges of the forest to the calming riverbank. And, lucky enough for Elijah, the ground was soft enough to begin digging. So, he started. Minutes upon hours upon days, Elijah ceaselessly dug away at the ground. He had to stop often to get the sweat out of his eyes, but would then continue as if he had never taken a pause. He dug. And he dug. And he dug. On the fourth day of digging, Elijah collapsed. His fingernails were packed with mud. His clothes were completely stained beyond repair. But Elijah just laughed to himself under the stars, the low chirps and murmurs from inside the forest seemingly celebrated with him. Elijah had escaped war. And he had dug himself a new hole to call home. The end.
  12. It was late at night. Amadeo Clay was lurking around Ruswick as she normally did, tending to the plants and turtles and whatnot. She peeked inside the empty casino, looked around the quiet markets, and realized happily that one place she could always expect company would be the home of her lover. Swifty Sam. She made her way up the stairs, almost skipping. She couldn’t wait to open the door, to see his face- “Ave Lauriel.” It was written sloppily in blood by the door, which was left ajar. Her hand flew to her mouth as a gasp escaped. The bones in her body shook, the bread that she was carrying in her basket to share with her loved one had been dropped onto the dirty ground. “Maellius!” She screamed from Cliffview 3, trembling. Maellius Aldearch dashed over, cutting short his conversation with one of their neighbors, to find Amadeo on her knees, back slouched, defeated, as she stared at the blood. Maellius helped up his long-time friend and assisted her inside the violated home. Amadeo refused to raise her eyes from the floor, dry sobbing heavily as she was dragged through the living area. That was, until she heard Maellius suck in air and on instinct looked up. There was blood. Everywhere. All over the sheets, all over the bed itself. Amadeo couldn’t help but collapse next to the frame, the tears finally escaping her eyes. “HE’S DEAD!” She screamed as Maellius followed her to the ground and hugged her from behind. “HE’S DEAD!” Maellius patted her back gently, trying to comfort her but her mind was far from that room. She grabbed hold of the corner of the bed-sheet, holding on for dear life. Maellius whispered, “Amadeo, I am so sorry...” And pulled her into a tighter grasp. It was only a few somber moments after that, that, out of sheer stubbornness, her eyes dried. Though still pink and puffy in the face, Amadeo raised herself up by the support of the wall and glared at the bloodied sheet still in her hand. “They killed him. Now they’ll kill me. I hafta leave.”
  13. Amadeo Clay’s jaw almost hit the floor when she received the news. Her hands shook, her eyes watered, her vision blurred. Her nearby mates asked her to have a seat as she quivered quietly. “They...they took his head.” She relayed to them. Something had managed to wrap their hands around her throat and refuse to allow any air. Her first thought was where she would hold the funeral, but then realized fairly quickly that there would be no funeral. There would be no proper burial. Swifty was dead, dead in a place that she used to call home. Killed by the men she used to call her brothers. Her next thought was one of revenge.
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