A bit of the old ultraviolet.

[Edgar Christopher]

So. There's no point to this game, no winners, no losers, no nothing. All I want you folks to do is write a post that's so purple it makes your eyes bleed after writing it. I want godmodding and OOC, too. :> MAKE IT HURT. (Go go gadget innuendo!) This is basically going to be the "how not to RP here" post.

I'll start. With a little modified copypasta, omnomnom.

Languidly he raised his ever-shifting emerald hues from his slender hands to look at the sign above the door, as his porcelain face cracked into a perfect, impish little grin. Disembarking the automobile was a matter of a simple serpentine slide, which he had down to an art. As he accomplished it, he adjusted his perfectly tailored, dove grey suit around his tall, slim frame and muttered a low, rumbling sigh. Edgar had been invited to meet someone at the club, possibly a certain Mister van Pelt by the sounds of things. Which would line up perfectly, due to the interview he'd sat through the week prior. It was a vampire bar, and vampire bars tended to sire gossip faster than rabbits sired children.

With a practised flick of his wrist he checked his phone before gracefully putting it away again. Oh dear, he had so many messages. He'd get to them later. Edgar tucked a lock of his perfectly curled, shimmering midnight-black hair behind a pale ear and pursed his almost feminine lips. Stepping up to the club was almost like a ballet for him, pointed toes sweeping forward, one in front of the other in unparalleled smooth, swaying grace as his lithe, wiry muscles shifted under the thin fabric of his favourite suit. Oh, that suit. It echoed the light stormy grey of his orbs at the moment and it hugged his figure like he was born wearing it. He'd left his shirt part of the way open, as it naturally accented his slender neck. Oh, swans would envy that neck just as models probably envied his perfectly sculpted, wonderfully high cheekbones. And instead of matching trousers, that night he decided to wear a pair of jeans, tight, but not tight enough to cut off any important circulation.

At the end of the short, swaying, almost sultry walk he met with a bouncer. Didn't take a second to determine that his fanged compatriot was a vampire, it would take an idiot not to notice that the majority of the clubs patrons were of the same material. He purred into the man's ear and handed him both his ID and the invitation he received, letting his long fingers curiously twitch over his shoulder at the same instant. The blocky, heavily muscled stone of a man moved aside as the smaller snake winked a now glimmering forest green orb at him and practically slid into the waiting door. Edgar fit in comfortably with the other clientèle, lightly taking a seat and scanning the room with an almost disinterested gaze before ordering a stiff drink. He chuckled musically to himself as he spotted the two much younger patrons across the room. Ah, one of them was a wolf, he could smell it from there. She certainly didn't look like she fit the scene, how could the bouncers have made that mistake? Unless she was the other young-looking vampire's current... oh, snack?

[rodentfanatic]

Translation: Sati on the beach finding a shark washed-up on the shore

The smooth soles of her lowest extremities, which were free from the constraints of any cobbled constructions, fell as softly as feathers upon the ivory-white and golden-cream sands of the coastal embankment in Miami known as South Beach. Though spending her physical existence in such a radiant locale ensured that she was nigh-daily engulfed by a bath of solar beams, the perfect golden hue of the brown girl's epidermal tier was not from the kisses of Helios above but her twisting helix of DNA within. The aurum element too graced her ebony tresses, golden clasps binding her raven-black braids like those of the Cleopatra herself. Inkblack eyeliner gave wings like tattoos around the border of her deep dark orbs, the only makeup that marred the spotless canvas of her deceptively-youthful visage.

A most strange image was presently reflected within their depths, which were rival to the nearby sea itself, which was from whence the great saltwater beast that lay before her on the shore hailed from in its native lair. Though only in its nascent stage, it was one of the more ponderous varieties of ichthyoid, one of the cartilaginous creatures classified under the clade name of Selachimorpha --sharks. This one was a young lemon shark, a breed named for its color that spanned the narrow spectrum of ashen-blanched lutescent-tawny to smoky cinereal, and while ripened maturity would bring it to a length of eight to ten feet, it had so far only reached the springtide length of five. This proved it was but a juvenile, thus why it was in but the eurybathyic border of Proteus's realm, and that state was all it would ever surmount to should it fail to rebound to the briny expanse. Yet that was inevitably futile; the animal would have fallen to the mercies of the grave long prior to when the tide returned.

Sati gazed towards it, but it did not meet her brunette stare.

She then preambled on her neither-too-lanky-nor-too-squat pair of columns to the ancillary margin of the shark, knelt below to the dampened sand grains, and attempted to grasp the poor creature. The epidermis of the fish was not marble-lustrous as it gave the outer illusion of appearing, but instead it was irregularly brambly, like sandpaper, and it grazed and chafed against her palms and everywhere else on her that it impacted against as it convulsed itself violently to and fro, trying now not just to escape the doom of desiccated land but from its attempted savior as well.