1. Welcome to Black Dahlia, an adult 18+ roleplaying and writing forum! Don't forget to vote daily for BDRP! The more you vote, the more awesome writers find BDRP, so vote each day! Click here to vote on Top RP Sites and here to vote on Top Site List.
  2. Follow BDRP on all major social media! Tweet at us, Like us, Follow us, Pin our Boards, Reblog us, and check out member Art!
    Dismiss Notice
  3. Looking for more ways to find partners? Check out the Fandom Catalogue and Genre Catalogue!

    Sign up and share what fandoms and genres you are interested in! See who's into the same things you are and give them a shout!
    Dismiss Notice

 NSFW/Explicit  Female x Male  Erotica Teetering Point (Quindaro & Tackz)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Quindaro, Jul 14, 2019 at 2:15 AM.

  1. Quindaro

    Quindaro Wild Member Member

    Local Time:
    2:04 PM
    Through the annals of time, humanity has always had an affinity for curiosity. The world's darkest secrets, held by those willing to cross moral and ethical boundaries, in order to achieve one's goals. Avenues opened by those lingering within the shadows. It usually all starts with a glimpse, or the promise of fulfillment, the deepest desire. Other times it's a dream that manifests itself into a thought, then any further it becomes real life.

    Often times, these curiosities can occur in some of the most mundane of places. A suburb outside of a large city at the tail end of summer. Most of the day the air is buzzing with the sound of kids playing, yard work being done and the sound of cars coming and going. Down the road where the street ends is a house that hadn't been touched by time itself. It's walls that of a dark oak, blackout curtains always drawn behind it's wide windows, it stood taller than most of the other cookie cutter homes within the neighborhood. Not many knew the residents personally, for the couple didn't often leave. Their car remained in the garage was an older model from the late fifties, and the only time it was used was presumably to run errands. The grass got trimmed weekly and the young man whom did it for the older couple would be paid in kind, though any attempts by the neighborhood kids to goad him into asking the older couple had failed.

    It was only after an ambulance arrived earlier that summer that the mystique of the old house increased dramatically. The next morning the obituary in the paper read that the old man Dr. Mordian had passed away due to major organ failure. It was said that soon after he passed, his wife passed the next day due to immense grief.

    Up to this point the house remains empty, anyone who had interest in the old house gave up on it. People who visit often report the feeling of being watched, and others cite that the house itself had an ominous feeling about it.

    The city foreclosed the old building and cited it to be demolished and rebuilt into a standard home to make it more marketable. But there was legal issues that held up the city, so now it remains, boarded up all electrical and plumbing cut off and seemingly empty. An odd occurrence every so often, shadows could be seen through the now uncovered windows at night, whistling of various old tunes, and a faint aroma of cinnamon buns. some investigate and find nothing, but they persist.

    Then one night a slip flew from one of the cracked window sills. Drifting and fluttering about aimlessly through the cool night air before flapping on down to one house in particular. There was one window partially ajar that allowed the slip to silently glide in and gently come to rest face down on the nightstand. The slip itself textured like parchment with a circle drawn in black ink. a diagram depicting a basket of wheat a branch of olives and a bottle of wine, though deep within the picture was detailed scrolls and shelves of books behind the basket, they appeared to be chained and locked away, and on the bottom of the slip it was written. "Inibi verum sacrificium." Then there was a number on top of the circle "155 - 4 O'Brien"

Share This Page