Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2024
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
Since the wonderful members of TDOM enjoy the site enough to play around on it, this thread is to assist with the site's tidying! Functionality is important and we want to make the site functional even if its activity will be minimal at best!
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
It was a busy day at the ward. The rooms weren't overflowing as they might have been after a serious conflict with the AP, but there were enough patients to keep the medics stretched thin. It happened from time to time when there was particularly high terror activity or when a few too many medics had decided to take vacation days at the same time. [break][break] More injuries weren't a good thing, but days where Haley had something to do were better than the ones where she was stuck on call without anyone coming in or out of the ward. The feeling that things could take a turn for the worse at any moment could be unbearable. [break][break] Although it was the middle of the day, Haley had been working since far too early in the morning and, even after emerging from the breakroom where she'd downed a strong cup of coffee, she was exhausted. She wasn't ready to actually sleep yet, though, and although she was technically free to go home she knew they could use the extra help here. [break][break] Haley made her way to the front desk to grab a clipboard for the next waiting patient, leafing through the clipboard to get a very brief idea of what to expect before heading towards the room they'd been sent to to wait. She briefly noted that the pile of paperwork representing waiting patients had shrunk notably. Perhaps soon things would calm down again. [break][break] She took a breath and straightened her posture, not wanting to look too tired, before pushing the door open. "I hope you weren't waiting too long. It's-" her voice fell off as she actually processed who she was talking to. She glanced at the name on the top of the paper - something she probably should have done earlier. Several different thoughts spun around in her head, barely staying in focus long enough to form cohesive ideas. Surely this wasn't possible. After enough years that she'd lost track, the last person she'd expected to ever see again was her dead father. Or, at least, supposedly dead. He certainly didn't look dead now. [break][break] "I-" she began, but the rest of the words weren't coming to her. She didn't know what to say, or how to interpret the emotion building up inside of her. "What are you doing here?" she finally asked with an unintentional blunt edge in her voice.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]The chilling touch of a winter’s day grew unnoticed as the warmth of blood seeping into the fabric of his uniform stood out. The sticky liquid glued Peyton’s uniform to his shoulder as he entered headquarters. A lengthy mission resulted in the wound to his shoulder, a pair of troublemakers and a bothersome AP member had managed to scratch up his shoulder. The pain pulsating in his shoulder was not unbearable, however, these matters still required attendance upon his return. Furthermore, operating with an unfit uniform was frowned upon, and his uniform possessed several rips.
Upon his entry into the TRS headquarters, Peyton was hastily shuffled around, being taken to an unoccupied examination room. A long exhale escaped the blond’s lips as he stationed himself atop the table. Compared to his colleagues, Peyton was the least of their worries. As a durable, honourable draugr, he was capable of avoiding the more severe damages because of his summoned armour. His capabilities on the battlefield only solidified his lack of bodily injury. However, the number of injured people was lower than expected given the confrontation.
Quietly, Peyton waited, ignoring the soft pains in his shoulders while listening to the hustle around him. He weathered through worst situations in his centuries of life. A former cavalier and captive, Peyton had witnessed the darkness of the world and refused to allow it to alter him. Minutes ticked forward, the squeal of a door catching his attention. Through the door arrived a woman, one who appeared young with flowing locks of blonde hair. Familiarity flared in his brown eyes as he gazed at the woman, her craned head leafing through papers obscuring his view.
When she straightened her back, he recognized the brilliant green eyes and complexion of somebody once lost to time. After an abrupt demise in the fight for his country, Peyton never located his trio of children. He wanted to find them, to assure their safety, but until today he failed to. He found one, Haley, and it left the question of where his son and eldest daughter were. Through his years of service, he never saw Shun or Juliette.
“Haley?” His voice was soft as he spoke her name.
Naturally, she had questions since a majority of his family knew he perished in the war, but he failed to expect the blunt edge of her inquiry. The male blond understood any displeasures she held towards him for his dangerous actions. A long breath escaped his lips, a sigh as he debated an explanation.
“This… was the best option given my experience. After I returned… from Purgatory this was the best option. I looked for you and your siblings, but I couldn’t find you,” he explained in a quiet voice. “I have been here for a while, thinking I would never find any of you, but here you are.”
Despite the situation, a gentle smile appeared on Peyton’s lips. He cared about his children, however, locating them in a vast world was near-impossible. Wherever he went, he could never find clues to their position. While Peyton never gave up, he listened to the vine for leads, questioning if they survived or not.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
Haley heard her own name and something inside of her melted. It was definitely him, she wasn’t imagining familiarity where there was none. And he was in the TRS. He was still fighting after so many years. She knew she shouldn’t have expected anything different - he was a soldier through and through - but she felt a slight pang of disappointment. She hated the very thought of how many injuries and how many near misses with death he must have gone through in the time since she’d seen him last. [break][break] The oddity of them finding each other now struck her next. Of all the places she could have ended up she'd come here. Where he was. It was a huge coincidence. She couldn't help but wonder if the friend who'd suggested she transfer to Lorsette had somehow known, not that it mattered either way. [break][break] "Dad," she said, her voice was shaky as it spoke the word. It felt wrong, in a way, and after a brief moment she realized why. She’d never said that word in English. The last time she had seen her father she didn’t even speak the language. "I thought you were dead… again." Although her British accent had mostly faded in the year she'd been in Lorsette a bit of it returned as her voice thickened with emotion. Memories long buried by time and and unwillingness to reminisce upon them were beginning to bubble to the surface, breaking through the chaos of everything else. They were fuzzy around the edges but they were warm and happy and filled with the sort of comfort one could only find with family. [break][break] Her family and her country had been torn apart by that awful war. After that people had gone there separate ways, hoping to escape the chaos that had set in like a dark fog after their ultimate loss. Mourning her country and her father she had tried to hold onto hope and deny the obvious truth, but she could only do that for so long. It wasn’t a good time to be Greek and an even worse one to be nobility so she’d been forced to leave. Except now it appeared that she was wrong. Her father was here in front of her seeming very much alive. [break][break] She wanted to run over and hug him, but she remembered he was injured and that would probably be a very stupid thing to do. She wiped away a bit of moisture from her eyes and set her focus on her job. She didn't know how to feel and she didn't want to get too emotional before she figured that out. "You're injured." she commented, walking over to the supply cupboard to get what she would need to clean the wound. The obvious injury didn't seem too severe, so at least there was that. "Is it just the shoulder?"
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Limbs felt stationary as Peyton stared at his blonde-haired daughter. Astonishment mingled with a bubbling jubilee beneath his gentle smile. Despite the pulsating pain in his shoulder, the male blond struggled to worry about the wound. The sensation was background, numbing out the longer he stared at his wonderful, beautiful daughter. Centuries had passed, and finally, while unintentionally, Peyton found her in the one destination he never expected. His occupation led him to a fortunate discovery, one he waited far too long for.
Their shock was equal, neither expecting to see one another ever again. Through all these years, he thought his children disappeared in the vast world. A land too massive to find those he cherished despite his absence. His daughter’s trembling voice shook Peyton’s heart as he gazed at her. The length of his leave managed to damage those around him. From declarations about his death and the downfalls of Greece, everything changed radically. The abrupt alterations of the centuries pried them apart, his death only cementing the misfortunes.
He promised a return those centuries ago, yet, he discovered himself a draugr, honourable, but undead nonetheless. Travels showed as emotions welled and beneath the tones, he heard the pang of a foreign accent. Alas, from years of dissipating, he struggled to place the location it was derived from. The ache of his wounded shoulder was ignored as Peyton slipped off the examination table. The male blond approached her, reaching to hug one of his children. His injury mattered naught to the draugr, as centuries of hoping and praying to whatever god would listen brought fruition.
Whether or not Haley accepted his embrace was a different question, however, one Peyton was unaware hung in the air. The comment about him being injured was greeted with a small nod.
“Yes, it’s not too serious. Shouldn’t take long,” Peyton explained
The wound was nothing of concern for the centuries-old soldier. Years of entering combat situations left him adjusted to a variety of injuries. Hell had knocked for him before, taking him hostage and showing him the darkest colours of the world. Thus, the damage to his shoulder was viewed as minor. A few scratches, deep, but not intense enough for stitches was minimal compared to what he experienced.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
Haley's breath caught in her throat as Peyton stood up and embraced her. He didn't disappear. He was real. She hadn't realized she was worried about that until she felt his arms around her. She hesitated for a moment, then felt herself returning the hug. She did so carefully to avoid hurting his shoulder more, but she felt something melt inside her nonetheless. Suddenly her eyes started to sting and she buried her face in his unharmed shoulder. Memories she'd long since buried about what it was like to be a child were bubbling to the surface. [break][break] When he father answered her question she pulled back and wiped at her eyes. "There's no such thing as 'not too serious,'" she shook her head. As she went through the fairly monotonous process of inspecting the wound to determine what had to be done to fix it, several questions spun through her mind. She wanted to know what had happened, but at the same time she was afraid of what the answer might be. He had said he'd looked for her and her siblings but couldn't find them. How long had it taken him to give up on his search? Surely he'd started his life over since they'd last seen each other, but she didn't know how to even begin questioning that. [break][break] Instead, she settled on something impersonal. "What happened in the field today? It seems like there were too many injuries for a planned out conflict." When there was an influx of patients like this she usually didn't ask questions. It would distract her from what she was supposed to be doing and she hated the idea of accidentally triggering someone by asking them to relive a potentially traumatizing situation they'd just taken part in. After things calmed down information would come in waves through gossip anyway. [break][break] This time was different. Her father had been involved. It felt like a foreign thought, but it was the truth of the situation. Her long lost father was back and she was no longer some child that didn't understand the nature of war. He had been right that his injury wasn't too bad, but that didn't stop her from worrying. She'd seen more benign wounds get infected and cause endless problems.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Warmth flooded into Peyton's heart as he held Haley close. Never had he believed in those accursed centuries that he would be reunited with his family. The only individual the blond accepted not reuniting with was his original wife. Their relationship consisted of a civilized friendship brought on by an arranged marriage. They were willing to play the game of pleasantries, wearing their faces and accepting the social norms of their timeline. Nonetheless, Peyton hoped she was safe despite the strife existing between them.
Fortunately, it never changed anything between himself and his children. The kids they had became the shining lights in the cavalier's life. They inspired his determination to survive and return to his family at every turn. His strength derived from them, the powerful fighter proving it with every second. He felt Haley bury her face into the depths of his shoulders. The action only prompted Peyton to hug his daughter tighter. Questions swirled inside his head about his remaining two children, Juliette and Shun.
Out of the three children, Haley was the youngest and renowned as a 'daddy's girl'. Meanwhile, Juliette was the eldest with Shun being the middle child and only son. Her comments about his wound resulted in a soft, awkward flinch. Moments later would she leave the hug to begin her occupation. The male blond returned to the table, sitting back down to provide Haley with a better examination angle.
"Haley?" His voice was soft as he spoke. "Do you know where your siblings are?"
It was an important inquiry for Peyton, one influenced by worry over anything else. He needed to know if his other two children were well, and he further hoped to reunite with them. The mention of the conflict that transpired caught Peyton's attention.
"We were ambushed," he began with a soft sigh. "A group of terrors and AP members decided to start a brawl, but compared to everyone else, I'm one of the better ones. My armour likely kept me safe through the confrontation."
For armour, Peyton referred to the ability opposed to an altered jacket with plating or anything similar. As a draurg, and an honourable one additionally, he could summon thick, durable armour. It made the former cavalier a devastating tank on the field, but despite the ability injuries were inevitable. People could still break through the armour or discover the questionable weak spots required for mobility. Those sections alongside wear-and-tear resulted in the incision on his shoulder during the confrontation.
A majority of his wounds were bruises birthed out of rough transactions battle or battering against the metallic frame of his armour. Alas, he assumed those were considered minor compared to broken skin, bones and other sections of the body. Bruises would heal given time, but cuts and bones occasionally required some additional aid to assure a full, unhindered recovery.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
Haley heard what her father asked and shook her head. "I lost track of them a long time ago," she replied, feeling some guilt well up within her. She probably should have tried to stick with her family and been there for her siblings if they happened to need her, but things just hadn't worked out that way. She didn't know when she'd started isolating herself, but at some point she'd just began to figure life was easier without anything tying her down. [break][break] Haley kept quiet as she listened to what had happened. She hated it when people got hurt, especially when it was the AP's fault. She didn't really believe in fighting, but she knew that the TRS couldn't be the one to back down. They were only trying to protect people from the Assembly's insanity. [break][break] Typically when Haley was treating a wound she stuck to traditional medical methods rather than falling back on her abilities. She had mastered her abilities long ago, but in the TRS it was hard to predict whether she'd have to see one or fifty more patients through a day which made it hard to pace herself and prevent exhaustion. But after this she was going to be done for the day and she would prefer to heal her father fully. [break][break] "Do you, uh... prefer to keep your scars?" she asked. Some people, especially hunters, didn't like getting healed by magic because they wanted scars to remain. To prove they were someone. That they had done something real. She understood why, and she didn't like assuming people were one way or another.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Hidden within the sands of time were the people Peyton valued immensely. He discovered one of his children, however, the remaining two proved to be elsewhere. However, finding Haley brought the honourable draugr a sense of hope. Alas, the world was massive with millions of cities, towns and civilizations for people to be tucked away in. Perhaps they discovered a life without the requirement of their original family. The thought was sorrowful, however, the blond would accept it.
Heroics arrived with consequences, and his consisted of his children assuming him deceased and still locked away in the depths of Purgatory. Nobody was aware he returned to the realm of the living. His honour manifested him into a draugr, one capable of protecting those around him and accomplishing the actions he valued. Alas, the separation it created was immeasurable… When he arrived home from the war effort, he discovered their abode taken by another and everything was gone. The children, his wife, everything was gone from a single mistake.
The mentioning of scars prompted a soft ‘hmm’ from Peyton’s lips as he glanced at his daughter. Scars hardly affected the draugr. After years of service, his body was already marked aplenty from the battles of his past.
“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “I have enough of them that I’m not worried about it.”
Perhaps in his youth, Peyton would have showcased scars to impress his fellow soldiers, but nowadays it mattered naught. The endless mazes of scars that covered his body were meagre reminders of battles that were survived and nothing else.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
“I’ve always got to ask,” Haley sighed, then set to work healing the wound. The magic came easily to her after thousands of years of working with it, and soon the wound had faded into a fresh layer of skin. “Thats good, though. I’ve noticed the people that want to keep their scars as battle trophies tend to get injured more often.” she added. She’d known a number of people like that and they were always more reckless. She hated it. Why couldn’t people just try to avoid getting injured. [break][break] After deciding her work was completed to her satisfaction, Haley took a step back and glanced down at the clip board, filling in a few boxes on the paperwork. “How long have you been with the TRS?” she asked. It wasn’t a surprising place to find her father. In fact, it made so much sense that if she’d known he was alive the TRS was the first place she would have gone looking. [break][break] She wondered if anyone had put together that Haley and Peyton might be related. She had been with this branch for a while now and growing up she had been told she looked more like her father than her mother. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone had put two and two together. She wouldn’t even be surprised if that was why someone in her old branch of the TRS had suggested she go to Lorsette in the first place.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]The brazen, young hunters who gleefully kept and maintained their scars always gave Peyton an apprehensive feeling. In the ancient soldier’s mind, these scars were negative memories from times less favourable. If anything, the cleared skin pallet was welcomed to avoid reminding him of the devastating injuries he received from previous encounters. Already, he could imagine the divisions across their skin, thick and pale from age as they regale younglings with the tales of their epic battles.
The nobleman never devolved into the dangerous flexing of scarred tissue. Setting an example meant preaching to people the safety recommendations to assure they survive the battle. If anything, every scar that maimed one’s body was a demonstration of recklessness and a looming signal to another close call. Fortunately, his decision to care naught for the marks of battle seemed to bring Haley some relief. His daughter always fretted about his well-being and proved it on multiple occasions, especially when he returned home on that treacherous night after escaping his abductors.
Once the tickling sensation of knitting flesh from magic evaporated, Peyton rolled his shoulders. The strange tingling across his mending skin always prompted slight movement in the muscles around the area; at least for him. The mention of the TRS brought a gentle sigh to Peyton’s lips as his right hand perched beneath his chin in thought.
“From the beginning… I worked as a mercenary beforehand and used it as an opportunity to look for you all,” he explained quietly. “The TRS was the next opportunity. My skills were, and still are, rather pristine so it was a sensible option to put my skills to use while remaining mobile.”
There was a softness to his words as he spoke. The number of years the ancient cavalier spent fighting blurred together. The clashing of weapons and spilling of blood ran together as a permanently dyed river, rushing through with haste. Slowly, Peyton slid off the table, entering a stand as his hands fell to his side.
“And what about you? After serving TRS for so long, I was not expecting to see you or any of your siblings in TRS,” the blond inquired to his daughter.
While the branches of TRS were large, it failed to change the fact Peyton never expected to see Haley here. However, her position as a medical professional failed to surprise the cavalier. If anything, witnessing one of his daughters as a medic brought a surge of pride. In a way, those emotions felt nostalgic after spending centuries away from his children. The sensation of pride in their accomplishments was a welcomed one, and he happily remained in it as his hazel eyes glances over his daughter.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
Haley's heart sank a bit as she heard her father's response. She hadn't really expected anything different. For as long as she could remember, he had been a soldier before anything else. He was a good father, but if he was needed on the battle field he'd be there instead of with his children. The fact that he'd spent so long on the battlefield would have just solidified that. She had seen the front lines, and a warzone was a bad place to life. [break][break] "I'm not sure," she replied honestly. The centuries of traveling she'd done when she first go involved in the TRS all blended together. She narrowed her eyes, trying to hone in on events that she could place on some sort of timeline. "I remember I had been a field medic for a long time when coffee became a thing in Europe. That was the 1600s, so I probably started there in the mid 1500s? And then I was in Japan around the time that Mozart became well known and I had some trouble with a few hunters so I quit the TRS for a while. I eventually rejoined as a ward medic in Manchester and I was there until about a year ago when I transferred here." She paused and tried to recall anything else of significance. "Oh, I helped out during the War of Traitors too! I don't really count that one as TRS. Up until England I moved around a lot, though. I'm not surprised you didn't hear anything." [break][break] Haley finished filling out the patient chart on her clipboard before looking up again. "So, uh... I've been off duty for a while now and things are slowing down, I'm sure they can manage here without me. Would you like to grab a coffee or something?" she asked.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]Always a soldier, a fighter, a warrior, Peyton was unaware of a life lacking the woes of combat. Throughout everything, he was trained and conditioned to be a successful champion in the battle without question or second thought. Perpetuated inside the depths of the draugr’s mind, he believed removing the opposition would maintain the safety of his family and country. However, in the darkest moments he sooner threw himself into the fray to protect rather than remain steadfast and beside those he cherished in life.
He listened to his daughter’s story and how much she served. The life of a medic suited the younger blonde. Those opportunities to assist in the mending process synced excellently woven with her wishes for him to cease his campaigns. Almost a kindred dance of if you cannot cease the action, one mends the aftermath of reckless actions. Pride glowed in the hazel hues of Peyton’s eyes as he listened to Haley’s story. Her life sounded intriguing with many travels under his youngest daughter’s belt.
It saddened the draugr’s heart to know he missed her centuries of journeys. The many instances where he failed to find his children throughout the ever-changing circumstances of the world.
“I’m sure you did many great things, Haley and had plenty of great travels,” Peyton answered with a bittersweet smile. “I wish I could have been there to hear about them all.”
The mention of coffee only inspired the hunter’s grin further. An opportunity to catch up over coffee excited the nobleman; a sensation he felt laid dormant.
“I think that would be an excellent idea,” he answered. “I believe on the way to the mission location, one of our hunters mentioned a new coffee shop. If you’re willing to try something new, of course.”
If Peyton held the means, he would have offered her the opportunity to ride again. Their long afternoon horse rides through the trees and down to the beautiful solitude of the river. He mourned the opportunity, however, the chance of something new was crucial nowadays. People fancied different activities nowadays with the modern shifts entering day-to-day life. Thus, coffee glowed as the safest action and among the easiest starting places.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
A pang of guilt went through Haley at her father's words. So much time had passed without him, and she wasn't sure it was time they could make up for. Although he was her father, he had only been there for a small part of her life. She wasn't the same person she'd been then. It didn't seem fair, though. They were family, and it wasn't like either of them had done anything wrong. This divide shouldn't have formed between them at all. [break][break] "There's plenty of time to catch you up now," she said with a forced grin. "They weren't all so great, though." She didn't have much of an interest in reminiscing on her past. Most of it had been alright, but the important moments that shaped who she was were better left buried. She had the tendency to dwell on heart break and she had learned a long time ago that if she ever wanted to move on she had to intentionally try to forget the past. [break][break] Haley nodded as her father recommended a new coffee shop. There were very few cafes she hadn't tried at least once, but if this one was new she probably hadn't gotten the chance to visit yet. "I'm always happy to try new things," she said, "Except maybe roller skating. That didn't turn out so well." She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the death defying stunts the person trying to teach her had pulled. She wasn't going to give that another chance any time soon.
[attr="class","ren"]HEROES MUST MARCH ON, THUS I MARCH!
[attr="class","peytonspeech"]How many years passed since his death in the fray of battle? Everything blurred by in the hum of mercenary work, his actions as a hunter and endless searching. Had anything significant occurred between the large gap between their final meeting and eventual reunion? Little changed between the centuries, rather, the cavalier accomplished the task he grew familiar with since his youth, living the only life the world showed him. Kidnapped, torture and forced to witness horrible sights, he still walked down the road of a soldier, unphased by the violence.
At most, Peyton became acquainted with individuals and manifested attachments with his fellow hunters. For some, he acted as a father figure, as though his longing manifested itself in the requirement. He was hopeful his children possessed better roads than the ones he enthralled himself in through the centuries. After all, his species spoke to his destiny, a clear-cut sign shining between the shadows and blood of the road he walked. Draugrs were warriors, and somewhere down the line, Peyton supposed he embraced the duty handed to him.
"Then now would be a better time than any," he answered. "I should have some down time given how the mission went. Usually, the TRS is generous enough to provide it."
There was a gentle smile that touched Peyton's lips as his hazel hues landed upon his daughter. He missed everything about his family, even the wife he never fully loved. There would be plenty of precious moments where he was absent because of his circumstance. His entirety wished he could have been there for his family, protecting them and assuring their survival in tumultuous times. Perhaps he truly was a fool for deciding to leave and thinking they could cease the changing tides. He strode towards the door.
"Rollerskating? It went that bad?" The blond responded with a surprise softly pressing his words.
The draugr had never attempted the sport, however, knowing something went abhorrently enough to detract another person entirely piqued his curiosity. He waited for her just beyond the threshold of the door, showing patience to allow them to walk together. Fortunately, the cafe was not far and would not require an alternative mode of transportation.
"It should be a little up the street if I recall right," Peyton mumbled quietly in thought.
Once Haley was by his side, he navigated the hallways of the TRS headquarters with plans of engaging in conversation as they journeyed through.
are we the plaything of fiends or merely the dreams that we're telling ourselves
[attr="class","Haleyaodmain"]
Haley smiled as her father agreed now was a good time to grab coffee. She wasn’t quite sure which appealed to her more, spending time with her father after so long or the promise of a strong cup of coffee. It had been a long day and caffeine was always a priority in her life. [break][break] Haley followed him through the door, then cringed at his question. “You have no idea,” she rolled her eyes. She paused to officially sign out of work and waved goodbye to one of her coworkers, then continued to follow her father out of the building. What an odd thought that was. She wasn’t exactly sure where they stood. Last time she’d seen him she’d been so young. Blinded by the foolish notions she’d been raised to believe, she had respected many things that turned out to be wrong. Was her respect for him a similar illusion? [break][break] She brushed the thought aside and continued with her story. She’d have time to reassess the situation later. “It was a blind date thing and the guy was completely insane. He managed to electrocute himself several times in the… possibly an hour of time that I knew him?“ She ran a hand through her hair, not sure whether or not to consider the encounter amusing. “That’s how those things go I guess. I’m sure you have your own dating horror stories after all these years, I don’t need to regale you with mine. Although I suppose the roller skating part wasn’t that bad, I’d just rather be riding a horse than sliding around on wheels.”
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The skin is created by Wolf of Adoxography and Gangnam Style. The thread and conversation remodels are by Kagney. The Strange Reality board list, Heal My Soul info center, I Remember Now mini profile and Electric Requiem profile remodel is made by Pharoah Leap. The Who's That Member member list remodel was made by Tictactoe. The Cbox.ws Shoutbox remodel was made by Trinity Blair. All templates used for claims, information sheets, applications, etc are credited to their owners; credits for these can be found in the threads the templates are use on. Images that are used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners, however, they have been edited by Zac with a few being edited by Chibi Magician. The plot, rules and various other information pieces for The Duality of Man are written by Chibi Magician with the assistence of her co-admins, Finnegan and Dremulf, alongside other unlisted people who were kind enough to give their input. The TRS, AP and face claim were all created by Fleur for specifically the use of TDOM. All plugins used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners. The templates my members use are credited to their maker, if you find a template that belongs to you, but is uncredited, please speak to Chibi Magician or the member themself. Characters created on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners and should not be used elsewhere without the creator's permission.
Special thanks for the members of TDOM who make suggestions to help make this site better. Even though we can not accept all suggestions, we immensely appreciate it. Thus, we give credit to any additions that you thought of and were later implimented by the staff, because we are glad you give us these excellent ideas.
