It’s difficult to classify my style into a general category. As an RPer, I’ve played many characters with different types of motivations, characteristics, and moralities. I must confess, I do enjoy the antagonist but have a habit of exploring their “badness” on a deeper level emotionally. However, I have played “the good guy” on more than one occasion. It all depends on the mood and when it strikes me. 

Here is a sample of my writing to insure that I am, in fact, literate and so forth. It’s also for the benefit of your deliberation should you decide to work with me.

It’s a brief scene between two people. The male is an unidentified powerful being that is not meant for much purpose other than knowledge and assistance to those who should require it. Therefore, he has not experienced much human emotion or displays of affection. He believes he is not capable of it seeing as how his purpose is not to live as others do. 

   Near the massive rocks of the familiar lake, they walked together slowly. The day had grown long and drifted to a peacefully warm evening. Valentin stood straight and tall, comfortably so. His stride was precise, his steps light. The girl seemed so much smaller walking next to him but was not stifled out in his company. He, instead of overpowering, equaled out her presence. He helped her up and through the rocks as they reached them. Settling themselves on a large enough bolder that they could both sit, they looked over the water, enjoying the last few rays that danced over the rippling liquid silk. 

   The girl let go of a deep relaxed breath and blinked in content. “This is nice,” she observed, keeping her voice soft. 

   He nodded and looked to her. “It is, I suppose,” he replied, his voice sure and strong as always. 

   She laughed shortly. “You suppose, Valentin. I thought you were supposed to know everything.”

“I know all that I am suppose to. I do not have opinions to give, however. I simply must trust yours on the matter.” He brought up his knee and held it as stretched out his other leg out. 

   She thought about his words, let them run through her mind like the dwindling beams of sun setting over the lake in which they both gazed over. Somehow, as his reply simmered in her head, she became frustrated and a bit angry. “Don’t you have opinions, Valentin? Don’t you feel?” 

   He had not picked up on her swell of emotion, so he continued to look off unperturbed as he answered her. “You know I do not. I am not a man as I appear. I am just here.”

“Your words sound so pretty, but I’m finding it hard to believe them anymore. You are a man, Valentin, and you can feel.” She sat up more and pulled his face to look at her. She shook him slightly. “Don’t you? You feel. I know it.”

   Valentin stared at her perplexed and disgruntled. He felt something stir in him that should never have been there in the first place. But it was. And has been for a while now. For some reason, around her, it took to a commotion in which was hard for him to brush off. He gaped at her, attempting to shake his head. Her eyes, he noticed were close to tears. His chest ached at the notion that he could inspire such heart-ache in her. He had no idea what was happening to him. He gaped some more fumbling in his eloquent mind for some reassurance he could offer her; he could find none that would calm her so easily. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t satisfied with mere words at the moment. He searched her expression trying to make himself realize what before he would readily push aside. Valentin seemed to be stuck in some middle-ground unable to progress forward, unable to do much at all.

   As she sat there, anchored to him, she searched his expression desperately. She saw it there, that dim light of humanity that she noticed over time slowly burning brighter. But she could wait no longer. She let out a soft cry through parted quivering lips. “You feel,“ she urged him with the declaration. She chanted it to him as if to perform some abrupt magic. “I know it! You feel, you feel! I know you do!” She touched her mouth to his, lingering at first but then a subtle movement of exchange. Breath mingled into deep huffs as her lips urged his just like she had tried with her words. 

   Valentin felt a spark shoot through his system at this strange but known practice that he himself had never took part in. He felt an odd sense of urgency to comply and return her gesture. But why? He was not a man. He wasn’t suppose to be anything. Yet he found himself wanting to be, needing to be. For her. He thread his fingers timidly through her hair, leaning in closer. His lips began to move with hers and before he knew it, they were caught up in a brush fire of ravenous tongues, uneven breath, and pure, raw emotion that Valentin never imagined he‘d ever feel in the whole of his existence.