CIVILIAN, sister mary
posted Sept 27, 2018 9:56:34 GMT -6
EMILIO OTA, NICKLAUS STRAUSS, and 1 more like this
[nospaces]
[attr="class","CIVILIAN"]
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[attr="class","omapponetop"]
[attr="class","omapponetop2"]revolution calling
[attr="class","omapponetop1"]FILES LOCATED UNDER
SISTER MARY
SISTER MARY
[attr="class","omapponetopp"]
SISTER MARY
LOOKS LIKE ELISABETH VON WETTIN FROM SOUND HORIZON
[attr="class","omapponetopp1"]
FILE NAVIGATION
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[attr="class","omapponebasics"]
[attr="class","omapponebasicstop"]
ABOUT MARY
ABOUT MARY
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
SISTER, MARY, ANGEL
[attr="class","lnr lnr-star"]
SISTER, MARY, ANGEL
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
21 YEARS OLD
[attr="class","lnr lnr-gift"]
21 YEARS OLD
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
CIS FEMALE
[attr="class","lnr lnr-shirt"]
CIS FEMALE
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
SHE, HER.
[attr="class","lnr lnr-bubble"]
SHE, HER.
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
BISEXUAL
[attr="class","lnr lnr-heart-pulse"]
BISEXUAL
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
DEMIROMANTIC
[attr="class","lnr lnr-heart"]
DEMIROMANTIC
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
SINGLE
[attr="class","lnr lnr-users"]
SINGLE
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
SEPTEMBER 30
[attr="class","lnr lnr-calendar-full"]
SEPTEMBER 30
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot1"]
LIBRA
[attr="class","lnr lnr-moon"]
LIBRA
[attr="class","omapponebasicsbot"]
NUN
[attr="class","lnr lnr-briefcase"]
NUN
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RECENT STATUS
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shorn one by one and cast to the winds, I gave unto them my all... all... no... no... no more!
shorn one by one and cast to the winds, I gave unto them my all... all... no... no... no more!
[attr="class","omapponepersonality1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
[attr="class","omapponepersonality2"]
must salvation be earned in order to live a good life?
[break][break]
( yes, because life is nothing more then a sweetly disguised nightmare. )
[break][break]
an immovable object. painted, dyed and stained in a nun's habit, the cross a shackle across a slender neck. faith is the acid pretending to a balm, laced around scars that fester deep within. she is but a servant of God, words that taste like ash because she does not believe. she is the lamb that must be sacrificed, a ritual to the payment of her very soul. but she does not cry out. she does not call for help. she will not break because if there's only one thing she's ever had in this world, it was herself. a layer of ice that none would notice, a perfect imitation of a soft, gentle and happy nun. someone faithful, someone kind and someone willing to help others.
[break][break]
( does she even know herself anymore? sometimes she wakes up, the tears fresh on her cheek and the jagged breaths like knives in her heart. where does she begin, and the ice that isolates her end? where is her heart? why can't she see the colors that everyone else sees? )
[break][break]
perfect, because she doesn't know how to stop pretending.
[break][break]
diligence, the ability to push away her despair and keep going. to move forward and never look back. because she's traveled far from home, and further from a life where she still had a name to herself. but she's never stopped to contemplate something else - never had the time - and kept going on the path she was assigned. single minded, perhaps, doggedly. determined. fuel to keep her from falling. patience, the ability to endure no matter what. to keep her counsel to herself, to keep herself together and smile even when all she wants to do is scream and cry. the veil of niceties that hide the sheen of ice, and the murkiness of filth - the very sin of her existence - beneath.
[break][break]
( does she know anything but moving forward, and putting up a front anymore? she's just so tired, so done and used. but she still clings to it, not doing anything different. was this insanity? because it always has the same result no matter how she tries. over and over, and sometimes she wonders if it's just because she's broken, or if the world is truly that rotten? )
must salvation be earned in order to live a good life?
[break][break]
( yes, because life is nothing more then a sweetly disguised nightmare. )
[break][break]
an immovable object. painted, dyed and stained in a nun's habit, the cross a shackle across a slender neck. faith is the acid pretending to a balm, laced around scars that fester deep within. she is but a servant of God, words that taste like ash because she does not believe. she is the lamb that must be sacrificed, a ritual to the payment of her very soul. but she does not cry out. she does not call for help. she will not break because if there's only one thing she's ever had in this world, it was herself. a layer of ice that none would notice, a perfect imitation of a soft, gentle and happy nun. someone faithful, someone kind and someone willing to help others.
[break][break]
( does she even know herself anymore? sometimes she wakes up, the tears fresh on her cheek and the jagged breaths like knives in her heart. where does she begin, and the ice that isolates her end? where is her heart? why can't she see the colors that everyone else sees? )
[break][break]
perfect, because she doesn't know how to stop pretending.
[break][break]
diligence, the ability to push away her despair and keep going. to move forward and never look back. because she's traveled far from home, and further from a life where she still had a name to herself. but she's never stopped to contemplate something else - never had the time - and kept going on the path she was assigned. single minded, perhaps, doggedly. determined. fuel to keep her from falling. patience, the ability to endure no matter what. to keep her counsel to herself, to keep herself together and smile even when all she wants to do is scream and cry. the veil of niceties that hide the sheen of ice, and the murkiness of filth - the very sin of her existence - beneath.
[break][break]
( does she know anything but moving forward, and putting up a front anymore? she's just so tired, so done and used. but she still clings to it, not doing anything different. was this insanity? because it always has the same result no matter how she tries. over and over, and sometimes she wonders if it's just because she's broken, or if the world is truly that rotten? )
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[attr="class","omapponetabs2"]MISCELLANEOUS
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MISCELLANEOUS INFO
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SISTER MARY is not her real name by any means. in fact, nobody around her actually knows her real name - except herself. she hasn't been called by her name for years now, and she doesn't intend to start it back up. actually it would be fairly easy to say that she hates her name with a passion - so even if someone did accidentally find her name, she would willfully ignore them. she does however answer to sister, mary and surprisingly enough, angel. the latter having been her stage and 'work' name during her time in new york.
[break][break]
she knows she's full of lies and deceit, but yet she cannot bring herself to show her true self. it doesn't matter how close they are to her, she has closed off a part of herself that nobody can ever reach. she's well aware of this, and as such generally avoids general human contact outside of her occupation as a nun. often, only in this capacity ( and one other ) does she truly interact with people.
[break][break]
FATHER WILLIAMS may have saved her from the streets, but Mary despises him to the core of her soul. in some way, she regards what he's doing to her as part of her fate. he rescued her from the streets of new york, where she had found herself working to stay alive. it took a few weeks, but he convinced her to come with him to seattle - even further away from her town of origin. when he asked for her real name, she had not even hesitated - she just told him that her name was mary. in a way, she was hoping that he would be a decent man, like she'd heard often from religious types. that somehow it would save her. ( but it didn't. )
[break][break]
her duties as a nun are wide and varied - from maintaining the chapel, to helping with congregation, to singing hymns during mass, she's generally the only other person at the church apart from the father. what's not seen on the surface is that father williams has his fingers in some pies that most would never guess. and she's the agent for these pies. helping along with deliveries - of a questionable nature at best - to doing a few required services. one of these particular partners has asked for her discrete services for a particular asset of theirs. ( and she can't refuse because she knows death will come and she's not ready to die just yet. )
SISTER MARY is not her real name by any means. in fact, nobody around her actually knows her real name - except herself. she hasn't been called by her name for years now, and she doesn't intend to start it back up. actually it would be fairly easy to say that she hates her name with a passion - so even if someone did accidentally find her name, she would willfully ignore them. she does however answer to sister, mary and surprisingly enough, angel. the latter having been her stage and 'work' name during her time in new york.
[break][break]
she knows she's full of lies and deceit, but yet she cannot bring herself to show her true self. it doesn't matter how close they are to her, she has closed off a part of herself that nobody can ever reach. she's well aware of this, and as such generally avoids general human contact outside of her occupation as a nun. often, only in this capacity ( and one other ) does she truly interact with people.
[break][break]
FATHER WILLIAMS may have saved her from the streets, but Mary despises him to the core of her soul. in some way, she regards what he's doing to her as part of her fate. he rescued her from the streets of new york, where she had found herself working to stay alive. it took a few weeks, but he convinced her to come with him to seattle - even further away from her town of origin. when he asked for her real name, she had not even hesitated - she just told him that her name was mary. in a way, she was hoping that he would be a decent man, like she'd heard often from religious types. that somehow it would save her. ( but it didn't. )
[break][break]
her duties as a nun are wide and varied - from maintaining the chapel, to helping with congregation, to singing hymns during mass, she's generally the only other person at the church apart from the father. what's not seen on the surface is that father williams has his fingers in some pies that most would never guess. and she's the agent for these pies. helping along with deliveries - of a questionable nature at best - to doing a few required services. one of these particular partners has asked for her discrete services for a particular asset of theirs. ( and she can't refuse because she knows death will come and she's not ready to die just yet. )
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[attr="class","omapponemisc11"]
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[attr="class","omapponemisc11"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc13"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc2"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc21"]
+the feel of cold, biting wind
+rainstorms
+tidiness
+practicing the piano and the violin
+solitude
+the moon
+wandering on cold winter nights
[attr="class","omapponemisc2"]
[attr="class","omapponemisc21"]
-being touched in any capacity
-crowds
-dishonesty
-those with childish personalities
-the father
-neon lights
-looking at herself in the mirror
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[attr="class","omapponetabs3"]SUBJECT BIOGRAPHY
][attr="class","omapponebio"]
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i've been expecting you.
[break][break]
oh, don't look so surprised! i've seen quite a few people as of late, dearie. all searching for the same thing. now come inside, i've got a mug with your name on it.
[break][break]
not your literal name dear. although I probably do have one of those. no, rather you look peaky and a bit battered from the changing season. have you had breakfast yet? from your face, I would expect not. couldn't quite sleep, hm? now come, perhaps you'll let Granny make something for you. might be a bit slow because of these old bones, but do not worry. oh, you'll offer to help? what a helpful child.
[break][break]
ah yes, some pancakes for you, and some eggs for me is quite enough.
[break][break]
feeling a bit full there dearie? of course you are, if anything, I'm quite sure of my cooking skills. but now that you've been fed, and no longer shivering, how about we get down to business hm?
[break][break]
sister mary?
[break][break]
that... I didn't expect. has she caught your eye? has her kindness moved your heart? or are you one of her clients? whichever it is... I suggest you do not get yourself involved with her. I am not one for issuing warnings without a basis of course. but this one... this one is perhaps the worst you could have asked for. are you sure about this? the price will be very, very steep.
[break][break]
you are sure then. alright.
[break][break]
however I have one last warning. despite nothing being explicit, still beware of the following content: implied rape, abuse, sex-work (paid and unpaid), depression and various other things that I can't think of naming right now. if you are absolutely sure you still want to go ahead, then prepare yourself.
[break][break]
hear the tale of the girl that death would be a mercy to.
[break][break][break][break]
freedom was in short supply, and she'd always had a hunger for it.
[break][break]
she never speaks of home.
[break][break]
to her, the word itself is pain. it means shackles and restraint. ( or alcohol soaked nights, screams that she isn't good enough no matter what she does, and the desperate need to hide somewhere nobody would look ) she never uses the word if she can help it when referring to herself. but she knows that nobody could actually know her past, sometimes the eyes of strangers catch her and she remembers. the silent stares ( and the more silent mouths, unwilling to speak up to help, to lend aid. cowards and blind sheep the lot of them ) and the subtle shunning of her. still, freedom was a draught that she so desperately wanted to take to her lips.
[break][break]
so when the chance presented itself, she took it.
[break][break]
she cast away her name, her family, everything. she swiped what she could ( the small bag she had been packing since she was eight, a what if I can ever get away because she's always wanted to leave. over the years it's contents have changed, but it was still ready for when she's finally had enough ) and left. found herself on the highway, hitchhiking on a stranger's kindness. ( and sometimes, they weren't so kind - they would take her in the back or at the station's dirty bathrooms, the gazes of the clerks knowing, but unwilling to move. it was all she had to offer and she was going to use it to get out, no matter what. ) until finally she found herself in a city she could truly be lost in.
[break][break][break][break]
found a job in time's squares[break]
new york. a city that she's heard a lot from. tv, media, dreams - whatever it came from, it was numerous and wide. but the reality was quite different then whatever she'd conjure.
[break][break]
perhaps it was the sheer amount of people.
[break][break]
she doesn't quite remember how it happened, but she found herself working. and working. eventually she was in something she had no idea she could do, but did. had a stage name and everything. honestly, she doesn't remember much from this time. she was almost constantly working to keep herself fed and have the tools of her trade. so what was sleep, if it was in an alley? she doesn't remember, but she does remember the people. their faces, their willful ignorance. ( but she should be used to it by now, if it doesn't bother them, they won't do anything. ) she barely remembers names or faces of people that she worked with. regulars, or special cases - she doesn't remember them either. everything is murky.
[break][break]
it doesn't bother her much.
[break][break]
the one thing that strikes her mind, what she remembers the most, is when he found her. he walked up to her, boldly as you please. asked her to come with him. she laughed at his face at the time, and delivered a line. what is was she doesn't remember - but she does remember the glint in his eyes. ( and she sees it still when she's on the altar - the glint of greed, lust and desire. it should have been her clue then, but she'd learned to pretend things were fine and to not see what her guts were screaming at her. ) and then he would come back. again and again. always paying, but never taking the service he paid for. just wanted to talk he said.
[break][break]
eventually he wore her down.
[break][break][break][break]
she's sister mary now[break]
on the doormat, you're finally here
i've been expecting you.
[break][break]
oh, don't look so surprised! i've seen quite a few people as of late, dearie. all searching for the same thing. now come inside, i've got a mug with your name on it.
[break][break]
not your literal name dear. although I probably do have one of those. no, rather you look peaky and a bit battered from the changing season. have you had breakfast yet? from your face, I would expect not. couldn't quite sleep, hm? now come, perhaps you'll let Granny make something for you. might be a bit slow because of these old bones, but do not worry. oh, you'll offer to help? what a helpful child.
[break][break]
ah yes, some pancakes for you, and some eggs for me is quite enough.
[break][break]
feeling a bit full there dearie? of course you are, if anything, I'm quite sure of my cooking skills. but now that you've been fed, and no longer shivering, how about we get down to business hm?
[break][break]
sister mary?
[break][break]
that... I didn't expect. has she caught your eye? has her kindness moved your heart? or are you one of her clients? whichever it is... I suggest you do not get yourself involved with her. I am not one for issuing warnings without a basis of course. but this one... this one is perhaps the worst you could have asked for. are you sure about this? the price will be very, very steep.
[break][break]
you are sure then. alright.
[break][break]
however I have one last warning. despite nothing being explicit, still beware of the following content: implied rape, abuse, sex-work (paid and unpaid), depression and various other things that I can't think of naming right now. if you are absolutely sure you still want to go ahead, then prepare yourself.
[break][break]
hear the tale of the girl that death would be a mercy to.
[break][break][break][break]
sixteen and on the run from home
freedom was in short supply, and she'd always had a hunger for it.
[break][break]
she never speaks of home.
[break][break]
to her, the word itself is pain. it means shackles and restraint. ( or alcohol soaked nights, screams that she isn't good enough no matter what she does, and the desperate need to hide somewhere nobody would look ) she never uses the word if she can help it when referring to herself. but she knows that nobody could actually know her past, sometimes the eyes of strangers catch her and she remembers. the silent stares ( and the more silent mouths, unwilling to speak up to help, to lend aid. cowards and blind sheep the lot of them ) and the subtle shunning of her. still, freedom was a draught that she so desperately wanted to take to her lips.
[break][break]
so when the chance presented itself, she took it.
[break][break]
she cast away her name, her family, everything. she swiped what she could ( the small bag she had been packing since she was eight, a what if I can ever get away because she's always wanted to leave. over the years it's contents have changed, but it was still ready for when she's finally had enough ) and left. found herself on the highway, hitchhiking on a stranger's kindness. ( and sometimes, they weren't so kind - they would take her in the back or at the station's dirty bathrooms, the gazes of the clerks knowing, but unwilling to move. it was all she had to offer and she was going to use it to get out, no matter what. ) until finally she found herself in a city she could truly be lost in.
[break][break][break][break]
found a job in time's squares[break]
working live s&m shows[break]
new york. a city that she's heard a lot from. tv, media, dreams - whatever it came from, it was numerous and wide. but the reality was quite different then whatever she'd conjure.
[break][break]
perhaps it was the sheer amount of people.
[break][break]
she doesn't quite remember how it happened, but she found herself working. and working. eventually she was in something she had no idea she could do, but did. had a stage name and everything. honestly, she doesn't remember much from this time. she was almost constantly working to keep herself fed and have the tools of her trade. so what was sleep, if it was in an alley? she doesn't remember, but she does remember the people. their faces, their willful ignorance. ( but she should be used to it by now, if it doesn't bother them, they won't do anything. ) she barely remembers names or faces of people that she worked with. regulars, or special cases - she doesn't remember them either. everything is murky.
[break][break]
it doesn't bother her much.
[break][break]
the one thing that strikes her mind, what she remembers the most, is when he found her. he walked up to her, boldly as you please. asked her to come with him. she laughed at his face at the time, and delivered a line. what is was she doesn't remember - but she does remember the glint in his eyes. ( and she sees it still when she's on the altar - the glint of greed, lust and desire. it should have been her clue then, but she'd learned to pretend things were fine and to not see what her guts were screaming at her. ) and then he would come back. again and again. always paying, but never taking the service he paid for. just wanted to talk he said.
[break][break]
eventually he wore her down.
[break][break][break][break]
she's sister mary now[break]
with eyes as cold as ice
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call me
BITTERSWEET
call me
BITTERSWEET
[attr="class","omapponeplayer1"]
CONTACT ME VIA PRIVATE MESSAGE, OR DISCORD!
20+ YEARS OLD | SHE, ANY | EST |
CONTACT ME VIA PRIVATE MESSAGE, OR DISCORD!
[attr="class","omapponerenown"]
5%
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