Preface:
Currently, I'm at the beginning of writing a novel. And even though I want it to be just a novel, I also adore the plot too much to not turn it into a roleplay. So, here it is! Now, Jessie is a black Pharaoh Hound and many horrible events take place in his life. What your roll is? To be that mediator. To make sure that despite the terrible events, he has someone to rely on and care for him. AKA, he needs a boyfriend. Things will fall into place, so no worries about plot. I just want to juice out romance in between the events. It's going to be 1x1, so I have to choose who to involve. So if you're interested, PM me about your character. Post length is up to you, mature content warning for dark themes and foul language.
He woke up in a cold sweat. The same image flashed in his brain, though it was more of an implicit memory than an explicit one. The faces of his mother and brother on the television monitor. As a young child, Jessie found no connection between what he saw on the screen and his mom's disappearance. Now, as he grew up, he realized that the faces were on the screen because that's when she died. Natalie Rose and Matthew Rose-Johnson, both dead from a car crash. And that damned image won't leave his brain.
Now, Jessie was a reasonably handsome boy. Standing at 5'6, the nineteen year old was proportionate and well-rounded. He was a Pharaoh hound. Black, like his father. His mother had been beige, along with his brother, but Jessie took his father's looks. The hair atop his head was dyed teal, along with a stripe up his nose and down his back. He had silvery eyes, and it was rare for him to smile. Despite how much of an emotional being he is, his appearance is quite the contrary. Dull, looking like he's in a constant state of annoyance... But still high on the attractiveness scale.
Sitting up in his bed, Jessie glanced around the dark room. It was small. The most prominent features were the peeling wallpaper and the posters hung over his nightstand. They were all music related, most likely because Jessie once dreamed of becoming a rock star. Now, it's harder to keep such optimistic outlooks on what his life will be.
The air was heavy around him. There was a familiar smell in the air: beer. His father was a heavy drinker, especially since the deaths in the family. It's hard to say whether his father feels anything anymore. It's always just blind, drunken rage. But Jessie doesn't mind anymore. He takes his father's horrible, cruel words and discards them. They mean nothing anymore.
But there was one good thing. If anything, the best thing that's happened in his life. His best friend.
Jessie glanced beside him. Still fast asleep, his lifelong friend was sprawled out under the covers. Since they've been friends since kindergarten, it wasn't strange to sleep beside each other. But Jessie couldn't help that he feels differently about the boy. He was something else. Just walking perfection—well, at least to Jessie. What he didn't notice (as he stared down affectionately at his friend) was that he had woken as well. Most likely, Jessie's sudden movement stirred him from his slumber. Immediately, Jessie glanced away.
"... It's still early. We can still sleep."
Topic: The Inexplicably Horrible Life of Jessie Rose-Johnson (taken) (Read 1188 times)