- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Online Availability
- 3pm - 1am (GMT / BST)
- Writing Levels
- Beginner
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Monsters, supernatural, fantasy, romance, criminality, slice-of-life (modern or set in past, usually with some twists)
Celestino had heard plenty of stories about how Olympia used to be before the humans were overpowered and either killed, or oppressed and forced to fight hard to survive. Whether his parents told him before they died, or whether he heard from the people in his building who were still able to remember that time, it had been a story he had spent his childhood hearing; about how beautiful the city had once been, and how easy life had once been for humans like him. He remembered his mother often breaking into tears as she recalled the flower shop she used to own, before having to describe to her son just what a flower was; something he had never seen as a result of the total destruction of the city. All he grew up around was broken buildings and masses of rubble, as well as the occasional fire from buildings that the orcs randomly decided to set alight for fun. Anything natural, aside from a few trees that remained standing, was a complete mystery to him. He had no doubt that not everything natural had been destroyed, but it certainly had in his area of the city. After all, humans were forced into the very worst areas, so he doubted anything could grew around the utter devastation these areas displayed.
However, Celestino had managed to survive his whole childhood in his area, and, whether it was boastful or not, he was proud of himself for not just surviving, but doing such a good job that people in his building, people he considered family after the years he spent with them, were able to eat regularly. The meals consisted of nothing much, certainly not satisfying, but compared to most humans, it was a feast, and he was the one able to provide them. He didn't dare utter how he managed to get his hands on so much food and water, as well as the occasional blanket for warmth when Winter hit, but fortunately, most people were far too grateful to question the kindness. Hell, they were too grateful to criticise him on his drug use, which, before he began to provide them with valuable items for their survival, had been a regular occurrence. It usually ended with them yelling at him for his stupidity, while he refused to rise to it and simply lounged back until their anger had ended. However, as he started to bring in food, those tendencies to yell at him when he was clearly off his face on something had become incredibly rare... and that was just another incentive to continue to do what he needed to help them.
What he had to do consisted of sleeping with the orcs that he regularly met up with, in exchange for money, food or sometimes, directly for drugs. At first, even going near the women terrified him, having been physically beaten over the years by orcs that simply wanted a fight, and didn't care if their target didn't match their physical strength. However, while the women were hardly sympathisers to his species, he seemed to strike up a sort of connection with them. They met up with him solely for sex, but he definitely felt he got on with them-- though he also knew he would think differently if they didn't pay him for what he was risking being with him.
Because they came to meet with him so regularly, there was almost a schedule involved for each of the women. He knew what days he needed to meet them, and just where to linger about for them to find him. He wasn't due to meet with them, so, on one of the only days he had to himself, he had no hesitation in shooting up and settling on the hood of the burned out car he was usually found sat on with his hood up and his hands behind his head. He rarely got to relax, and perhaps fully relaxing like this out at early evening wasn't wise when any orc could take him by surprise and hurt him. It was true that orcs sometimes wandered through, but it happened so irregularly that he wasn't too worried about laying out in the dark and getting off his face on whatever drug he had gotten his hands on.
His relaxation was interrupted the moment he heard heavy footsteps not too far away. He had learned how to distinguish between an orc's steps, and that of a human, which was another reason why he wasn't too nervous about laying out on the car. He thought he was smart enough to know when trouble was approaching, and clearly, that confidence in himself wasn't ill-founded when he sat up to notice Halzinger lingering at the end of the street. Not that he knew just who it was. He knew he was an orc (he was pretty good at recognising one from afar) but he had no idea of his status. Unsurprisingly, Celestino didn't know any orc in an office of power, having no real way of knowing that.
He didn't panic, assuming that, if he was going to get attacked, he'd be on the floor, bloody and bruised, by now. Instead, he slowly sat up on the hood of the car, crossed his legs and fiddled in his pocket for a cigarette.
"...You lost or what? You're in a human neighbourhood, I figure you're pretty lost," he called out easily, his brow arched as he fiddled with his lighter, groaning each time his hand shook too much to be able to hold the thing steady. "Unless you wanna be here to beat the shit outta me, that's possible. Listen, dude, if you wanna beat a human up to get your kicks, I ain't the best choice. I can't feel shit right now, you aren't gonna get any screams from me."
However, Celestino had managed to survive his whole childhood in his area, and, whether it was boastful or not, he was proud of himself for not just surviving, but doing such a good job that people in his building, people he considered family after the years he spent with them, were able to eat regularly. The meals consisted of nothing much, certainly not satisfying, but compared to most humans, it was a feast, and he was the one able to provide them. He didn't dare utter how he managed to get his hands on so much food and water, as well as the occasional blanket for warmth when Winter hit, but fortunately, most people were far too grateful to question the kindness. Hell, they were too grateful to criticise him on his drug use, which, before he began to provide them with valuable items for their survival, had been a regular occurrence. It usually ended with them yelling at him for his stupidity, while he refused to rise to it and simply lounged back until their anger had ended. However, as he started to bring in food, those tendencies to yell at him when he was clearly off his face on something had become incredibly rare... and that was just another incentive to continue to do what he needed to help them.
What he had to do consisted of sleeping with the orcs that he regularly met up with, in exchange for money, food or sometimes, directly for drugs. At first, even going near the women terrified him, having been physically beaten over the years by orcs that simply wanted a fight, and didn't care if their target didn't match their physical strength. However, while the women were hardly sympathisers to his species, he seemed to strike up a sort of connection with them. They met up with him solely for sex, but he definitely felt he got on with them-- though he also knew he would think differently if they didn't pay him for what he was risking being with him.
Because they came to meet with him so regularly, there was almost a schedule involved for each of the women. He knew what days he needed to meet them, and just where to linger about for them to find him. He wasn't due to meet with them, so, on one of the only days he had to himself, he had no hesitation in shooting up and settling on the hood of the burned out car he was usually found sat on with his hood up and his hands behind his head. He rarely got to relax, and perhaps fully relaxing like this out at early evening wasn't wise when any orc could take him by surprise and hurt him. It was true that orcs sometimes wandered through, but it happened so irregularly that he wasn't too worried about laying out in the dark and getting off his face on whatever drug he had gotten his hands on.
His relaxation was interrupted the moment he heard heavy footsteps not too far away. He had learned how to distinguish between an orc's steps, and that of a human, which was another reason why he wasn't too nervous about laying out on the car. He thought he was smart enough to know when trouble was approaching, and clearly, that confidence in himself wasn't ill-founded when he sat up to notice Halzinger lingering at the end of the street. Not that he knew just who it was. He knew he was an orc (he was pretty good at recognising one from afar) but he had no idea of his status. Unsurprisingly, Celestino didn't know any orc in an office of power, having no real way of knowing that.
He didn't panic, assuming that, if he was going to get attacked, he'd be on the floor, bloody and bruised, by now. Instead, he slowly sat up on the hood of the car, crossed his legs and fiddled in his pocket for a cigarette.
"...You lost or what? You're in a human neighbourhood, I figure you're pretty lost," he called out easily, his brow arched as he fiddled with his lighter, groaning each time his hand shook too much to be able to hold the thing steady. "Unless you wanna be here to beat the shit outta me, that's possible. Listen, dude, if you wanna beat a human up to get your kicks, I ain't the best choice. I can't feel shit right now, you aren't gonna get any screams from me."