Welcome to Gaia! ::

It is June, 1692.
It does not matter who you are. Whether you are a child, a mother, a father, a teenager, a senior citizen. Whomever you are, you have been accused. Whether or not you lie in prison or a noose is to be fitted around your neck, you have been chosen, called out. The magistrates will not believe you. The accusers will not believe you. The compassionate will not believe you. You are utterly defenseless, alone.
But you have hope. You can pray or weep, you can join together in the group of the accused and plan and plot and hope for a way to escape this fate that has been thrust upon you.
You are the accused.
You are condemned as guilty.
You are one of the witches.




((This is actually more of a historical fiction than reality sort of thing, but rather this subforum than fantasy, I suppose, eh?))

Rules:
1. Three characters are the limit.
2. Keep this on a PG-13 level, 'kay? Cussing is okay, but nothing too bad.
3. My roleplay, my rules; unless Coral intervenes.
4. Don't do anything too...crazy.
5. Stick as close to the facts as possible.

YAY! PROFILES, BEGIN!

Name:Jalyn Karas
Username: Staritessence... (is that what you wanted?¿?¿)
Age:23
Gender: Female
Who Accused You?: Makenzi Harrisli
Brief History: fill in later
Description:

Name: Alyn Weylyn
Username: Lykaios of the Shadows
Age: Seventeen
Gender: Female
Who Accused You?: Isabel Hartman
Brief History: Both of Alyn's parents died in Scotland of a mysterious illness. Only four at the time, Alyn was sent to the New World to live with her aunt. The two didn't get along. Her aunt once even said the only reason she kept Alyn was because the townspeople had taken a liking to her. However, when she was accused, that liking obviously didn't last long.
Description:





Name: Daniel Isaac Jesworth
Username: Lykaios of the Shadows
Age: Twenty-two
Gender: Male
Who Accused You?: My brother, Adam Jesworth
Brief History: Born and raised in Salem, Daniel was a man almost anyone could trust. Being the eldest of two sons and two daughters, he was almost guaranteed to inherit all of his father's land and livestock. His young brother, however, didn't like this idea. Thus, he accused his own sibling of placing a curse on him.
Description:

(PLEASE TO START!!!)

We'll start soon. Maybe when more people join up.

Name: Desirae Langly
Username: Staritessence
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Who Accused You?: Jamie Weist
Brief History: I'm a dreamer, always with my head in the clouds. Until a certain Jamie Weist, son an extreamly wealthy man, insisted that I be wed to him. Me, who had no intensions of marrying the man, turned him down thus bringing upon myself a living hell, for Jamie had gone and told the town I had bewitched him in a fit of rage because he had asked for my hand. Now I sit here in the dark drearyness of a dungeon.
Description: http://paige.favorite-things.net/header.jpg (wears a peansant blouse (much like the one in the gaia shop) under her corset (in the picture) with a skirt that goes along with it.

Desirae
Jalyn (Jay-lyn)

I drew my legs to my chest as a bitter cold wind ripped through the dungeon. In the opposite corner three girls by the names, Rosemary, Elizabeth, and Gwen held small conversation while I stayed silent in my own little peice of the world.

I smirked as I darted through the trees of the forest with my accusers (bad spelling) at my heels.

(you couldn't respond?...but thanks anyway!!!)

((Yes, Starry, unfortunately, in your post you made no contact with my characters and therefore I could not respond.))

I sighed, rubbing my stomach. "I hope so, Gwen. I hope so." With that, I turned over and slept.

I smiled at Rosemary. She lived in her own little world, as did we all. All of us lived in our own worlds; we had to, or we risked another type of insanity, the kind that could get you killed.
I remembered my sister. She lived in my dreamworld, she and I and my mother. My father was banned from my dreamworld. I had enough to worry about without having a drunk in my head. You're ridiculous, little Genevieve Annette would have said. Stop pitying yourself. And live in reality. You're a pitier. Pity the others, the others that succumb to their dreamworld. Don't be stupid.
"Jesus Christ," I heard one poor soul saying in the background, in reality. "Jesus, please, save me. God, save me." Like most of us, the poor soul--a man, I thought--was a Christian, and a strict Catholic at that. Protestants weren't allowed in our town, and only if they wanted to risk death and kept it secret.
Of course, I was a Protestant. But I had been imprisoned and sentenced to death for a different reason.
"Save us all, God," I said aloud, while Elizabeth slept and Rosemary dreamt, dreamed of a world that did not exist or existed in another world that I never knew of. "Save us all from the noose to be placed around our necks. Save us, God."
Several voices murmured after my words, "Amen," and, suddenly exhausted, I fell into a wearied sleep.