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 Photo courtesy of Sheffield City council Sheffield A former industrial powerhouse of a city famous for it's steel making. Sheffield was blighted by the industrial closures of the 1980's which saw most of the Cities heavy industry decline and wither away but has now bounced back and become a major centre for the media and culture and is home to several hi-tech industries and a thriving service sector. Of course it's not all smiles and roses. Many of the new jobs are poorly paid and have a lack of prospects. The local police are notoriously corrupt and incompetent and the great wealth co-exists uneasily with crushing poverty. It's a city on the midst of change but is it change for the better or change for the worse?  Saint Andrew’s RC Comprehensive School and Sixth Form Located in a fairly affluent part of Sheffield St Andrews is a highly rated secondary school that caters largely (though not entirely) to Sheffield’s catholic population. It regularly produces a lot of excellent students that go onto higher education and boasts a high number of successful Oxbridge graduates amongst its alumni. However while most teenagers only have worry about getting good grades on their GCSE’s and if their girlfriend/boyfriend likes them you have a secret you’re not like everyone around you. You are different. You are a monster. FAQ Q: Is there an IRC Channel? A: Yep #brithearts on Synirc. Q: What Skins are allowed? A: Any from the Core book, any from Second Skins. Skins for the Skinless skins are not allowed. All others are open at my discretion. If you really want to run a skin not in one of the above PM me or hit me up on IRC and I’ll consider it. Q: How old are we? A: Students will be 14-15 and studying their first year of GCSES and would be Year 10 students. Q: I’m American/European/ A little green man from Mars and confused by how British schools work please explain it to me. A: The British school system works as follows. You generally start in nursery about 3-4 and then move on to Primary school between the ages of about 4-5. Then at age 11 you leave and move onto Secondary school where you stay till you finish at 16. After that is either Further education or the wonderful world of work. |-----------Primary School--------------------------||----------Secondary School----------------| Year 1 Year 2 Year 3 Year 4 Year 5 Year 6 Year 7 Year 8 Year 9 Year 10 Year 11 |---------5 to 11-----------------------------------------||-------------------11-16-------------------------| Q: Wait GCSES? A: GCSE’s (General Certificates of Secondary Education) are something every pupil in England is expected to study. Required subjects at St Andrew’s are English Language. English Literature, Maths, Physics Biology, Chemistry, IT (Information Technology), Religious Education and Citizenship. And four more that students may pick from a list including foreign languages (French/German/Spanish/Latin), Humanities (Geography, History, Sociology) Arts (Music, Drama, Art) Practical skills (Home Economics, Metal/woodwork, Graphic Design/Technical drawing, ) generally most GCSE’s are taught over two years with coursework required throughout and examinations occurring at the end of Year 11. Q: What type of school is this? A: St Andrews is a largely Catholic school though people from other religions are welcome if there is a lack of Catholic students to make up the numbers (In other words don’t feel bound to be a Catholic) located on the edge of a pretty rich area of Sheffield so it draws not only from the adjacent rich areas but also quite a poor catchment area making a diverse student body. School uniforms are mandatory and are a navy blue jumper complete with the schools logo. White shirt and Black trousers/Skirt with sensible shoes (no trainers/sneakers/high heels etc). Q: When are we? A: The game is set nowish specifically starting about the second or third week of October 2014 Q: How many people are you interested in? A:I’m looking for somewhere between 4-6 players and recruitment will last about a week. Q: I'm uncomfortable with including X/Y/Z in the game. A: If you find something uncomfortable. Just let us know and we will remove it. I strongly recommended everyone involved in the game reads X-card: Safety Tools for Simulations, Role-Playing, and Games by John Stavropoulos as it is a fine system to handle potentially upsetting things at the game table. -------------------------- Any additional questions can be either PM'd to me or you can hit me up on IRC. Now get posting those apps. P.S Proper spellings of colour and aluminium are also mandatory. 
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Feb 25, 2015 19:48
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 quote:Name: Blake Dunsmuir berenzen fucked around with this message at 03:10 on Mar 7, 2015 |
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Feb 25, 2015 23:54
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 Erm, right then! I'm Pippa, I'm 15 years old, and I moved here from Durham last month. My dad's a computer analyst for a construction company and my mum's a bank clerk; my older brother George is starting work at a games company. My younger brother Michael is starting Year 7 here at St. Andrews but my other younger brother Dylan's still in primary school. I like pop songs, learning to cook, romance comics, and Whippy Cornettos. My favourite subject in school is Home Economics and I'm not sure what I want to do for work. Oh and I just found out last month that I'm descended from the knight who killed the Lambton Worm. I didn't think we were really related to the earls, but it turns out the second one couldn't keep it in his trousers. Anyway, everybody back in Sunderland knows that the next nine generations of Lambtons after Sir John were cursed to not die peacefully in their beds, but Mum and Dad told me about the other Lambton curse. Apparently there's a Chosen One in each generation of our family who's meant to kill monsters and it turns out it's me! Mum and Dad knew it all along because of the birthmark I've got on my back, but they didn't tell me about it until I was "old enough to understand." Then they gave me all these manky old weapons and charms old Sir John brought back from the Crusades, said I'm meant to use them. I'm not sure I believe it all - I mean, I've seen some dodgy stuff but not like a real monster or anything! But Mum and Dad look so serious when they talk about my "duty" - serious and sad. I have to admit, I'm scared. What if I can't do it? And how am I going to get Jayson Singh to ask me to the Hallowe'en Ball?!?!?!?!?!? quote:The Chosen (Sorry if I get any words wrong, I'm a bloody American and cannot be expected to know better.) E: I switched up some stats, please see my answer to OP's Q2. Pththya-lyi fucked around with this message at 12:57 on Mar 1, 2015 |
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Feb 26, 2015 01:32
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 Alright, let's get the "Z"-word out of the way first off; yes, I am a zombi. No, not the Romero kind; the other kind. The original. A zombi. When I was fourteen, I was in a very bad lorry accident. I was in hospital for months, teetering on the edge. My parents are professionals; my mother is a doctor, my father works for a firm. We have money, is what I am trying to say. I was seen by the best physicians. It did nothing. My grandmother, however, is a bit old country. She brought in a bokor. He put an ouanga around my neck, and stuck a piece of fish bladder under my tongue, and when I died – and I did die – I didn't stay dead. It was, to say the least, a trifle awkward. Before I died, I was a perfectionist: I had my life planned out all the way up through med school. I was committed, driven, ambitious, and hungry. After I died, all those things were there, but moreso. I don't exactly sleep much, which gives me plenty of time to study. I excised my vestigial social life, which was for the best, given my unsavory new appetites. It got to the point where it started to scare my parents, who are still in denial about the nature of my resurrection. St. Andrews was their idea. It was supposed to be a fresh start for me; new school, new life. If only it were that easy. I'm sensible. I'm coping. All I have to do is make it through Saint Andrews and into a good med-school... and its accompanying supply of cadavers... and I should be fine. quote:The Ghoul Old Kentucky Shark fucked around with this message at 06:20 on Feb 27, 2015 |
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Feb 26, 2015 03:19
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 Oh, my family have been around here for centuries, really. Parish records have us back to at least the 1500s and while it gets spotty after that we have been here since before the Conquest, maybe even before the Romans. How do I know? Well, a combination of private archives, some DNA sequencing on old bodies, and the oral history. It's easier to maintain that kind of unbroken chain of descent with dragons, of course. Oh, don't look so shocked. You came here looking for something, didn't you? Was it the strange carvings in the church that tipped you off? Discrepancies in the accounts of the origin of the ballad? Those conveniently and selectively destroyed historical documents? Well, you don't have to say. It won't really matter. You'll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before you leave anyway, so do you have any questions for me? How many of us are there? I presume you mean dragons, not just family members? One per generation, essentially. There were twins once who both got the blood but one of them...didn't quite work out. That's where the legend comes from, of course - the poor simple lizard killed with a boot to the arse. Not our finest hour. Why am I going to St. Andrews and not some posh public school? Uhh, because my dad is an IT guy and not a merchant banker? Living above our means would attract attention, and that brings curious investigators and then some complete twat with a sword shows up yelling about virgins. Besides, all my friends go here. The Catholic thing doesn't really bother me, when my family bother going to church at all we tend to go in for pomp and ceremony above actual religious content. Am I going to...eat you? Hahaha, no. Not personally. I don't have the taste for human flesh yet. Grandad will do the actual eating. Oh, don't cry. We feed you a thing that makes you sleep first. If it's any consolation I think you were very good to get this far. No, I don't think that would comfort me either. quote:Donna Wharncliffe, The Wyrm thatbastardken fucked around with this message at 01:27 on May 13, 2015 |
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Feb 26, 2015 22:07
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Time for everyone's favourite part of the application process. Questions! Question 1 Blake Dunsmuir the Infernal Q1. Blake right? So you’ve made a deal with the devil huh? It seems to be working out well so far for you. I assume the deal included all the usual clauses about turning over your immortal soul signing in blood etc.. But what was the weirdest thing Veraxes has asked you to do in exchange for his help? And did you do it? Phillipa "Pippa" Lambton Q1. So Pippa, if you don’t mind me calling you that. You’re related to those Lambton’s? That’s quite an impressive pedigree that goes back a long way. And already being expected to be a professional monster slayer at your age. So they’ve cleared all that junk out the loft and dug up the families’ battered sword and dropped them all on you. But which of those artefacts have you been unable to make any sense of? Zed Ferguson Q1: Zed isn't it? By the way that’s quite an unusual name is it short for something or did your parents just make it up? Anyway you’re lucky to still be alive, for certain values of “alive” of course. I imagine Bokor’s are hard to come by in Yorkshire so he was able to name his own price to your parents and grandparents. What did he demand in exchange for your life?
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Feb 26, 2015 22:52
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Ferrosol posted:Blake Dunsmuir the Infernal Immortal soul, and the lot yeah. All that fun stuff. The weirdest thing he asked me to do though? Probably the time he told me to desecrate a couple graves in the local graveyard when I was 13. It was the graves of some priests from way loving back. You know, dig them up, pour some pigs blood, swap out the bones, that sort of stuff. Don't really know why he wanted me to do it, wasn't really my place to ask anyway. So I did it, paid off that debt, never really looked back.
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Feb 26, 2015 23:24
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"John Smith" Personal Log - Day XX I understand that my parent brought me here for educational purposes and so as to have someone who can research adolescent life of humans while they research adult human society, but as I stay here, I grow more and more bored with this part of the planet. They could have at least picked a larger settlement! If I keep this up I'm going to forget who I am, so I shall write it down here as a reference. My name is Jyklad Xex, human alias John Smith. I am 14 years old, in human time. I am the spawn of Ryklad Xex, human alias Ron Smith, renowned xenosociologist. I am a Kurvan from the planet Zyzak. My duty as spawn is continue my parent's legacy in the event that they die, as is tradition. Our relationship is somewhat distant beyond research. Currently, we are posing as humans in the settlement of Sheffield in order to observe human society. He is posing as an actor, while I am posing as a student. I personally am fond of the arts, but have found very little of that here. As I see human adolescents rebel against their parents in numerous ways, I've begun to consider the notion of rebelling myself, and directly interfering in the lives of these other students. I've already begun talking to my parent's superiors directly instead of through him, as he would normally have me do. quote:Jyklad Xex, the
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Feb 26, 2015 23:37
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Jessica Mallory - The Vampire A vampire in catholic school, good joke right? Ugh. I suppose you're wondering how it happened anyway. What kind of vampire would be stupid enough to enroll in a catholic school? Well, none, as far as I know. See, I wasn't a vampire when I started here. About a week into the school year, I snuck into the onsite chapel for a dare, and well, looking for the stores of communion wine so me and a couple friends could get drunk. Look, it was the only way we could think of to get some alcohol, don't pretend like you never got drunk when you were a teen. Yeah, I know it was stupid in general, and even more stupid to keep the bottle labeled 'The Blood of Christ' for myself. I just thought the label was a joke done in bad taste for the best vintage or something. Well, it tasted like the good stuff when I drank it, but it didn't just make me loopy. I ended up going out for a few more drinks that night. This whole being a vampire is taking some getting used to, but I think I like it. There are a lot of new things I have to deal with, dinner being more tricky to find for one, but I can see people a lot clearer, how to make them move, and how to wrap them around my fingers. Jessica Mallory, The Vampire posted:Name: Jessica Mallory GodFish fucked around with this message at 08:25 on Jun 13, 2015 |
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Feb 27, 2015 03:25
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Ferrosol posted:Zed Ferguson Bokors may be hard to find in Yorkshire, but turn over enough stones and you can find anything in London. His name was Lawson. I only met him once, while I was recovering. He was an evil-looking squinty-eyed old Barbadian, who claimed, among other things, to be an ex-soldier, ex-cricketer, and current servant of the loas who walks both paths. Other than an absurd amount of money and a case of Lagavulin, the only thing he asked for was a year of service from me, to be collected later. Or my firstborn child. Whichever came first. What an unutterably disgusting person.
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Feb 27, 2015 07:00
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Ferrosol posted:Phillipa "Pippa" Lambton I don't mind Pippa, everybody calls me that. Better than Phillipa, makes me sound like a posh snob like...well...the earls. I don't think it's fair that they get to do things like live in the castle and go to public school and holiday in Italy and be ministers and play in fake American country bands (the current earl's the guitarist in the glasses). But I'm the one who has to kill monsters and save people, apparently. It doesn't seem right to me. But you asked me about my artefacts, right? Mum and Dad say that Sir John bought most of them back from the Holy Land - "Where queer things him befel," the song says. There's the sword for one thing. The blade has this weird pattern on it like water, and it's really sharp. I've never had any sword training, but whenever I pick it up I seem to know exactly how to hold it and how to move with it. Dad says it was the same with his brother - my uncle Rodger - and with his aunt Georgia. They were the Chosen Ones before me, he says. He doesn't say much more. Anyway, there's a few other weapons, like the knife I take to school (it's made of the same stuff as the sword), but most of the rest of the stuff is just old medals. Most of them have pictures of saints on them, and I can usually tell who they are - like this one, who I know is Saint George because he's got a horse and a spear. But some of the saints I can't figure out, like this one with the dog's head. And some of them aren't of people, but of stuff like this snake eating its own tail. A few of them are symbols and shapes I just can't figure out. I don't like them. Looking at them makes my head hurt. I hope I don't have to use them. Pththya-lyi fucked around with this message at 14:24 on Feb 27, 2015 |
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Feb 27, 2015 07:38
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Megan Brooks - The Witch Harry Potter makes magic seem so amazing and useful, right? I hate to tell you it's not all it's cracked up to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I found my dad's old books. There's a couple people who've been really mean to me that never would have gotten what they had coming if I was just a normal kid, and couldn't use curses. It's also the reason our flat has one more room than it should, which I've been using as my main bedroom since it's about six times the size of my other one. But even still... mum and I are still poor. Can't magic up money or a job for her that isn't working as a cashier. My stuffs all pretty beaten up and secondhand, and I can't magic them new. Can't magic up more friends either. Dad's been gone for ten years, and I can't make him come home. Can't even fly or levitate stuff. And do you remember a part where Hermione pukes up blood? First time I tried to hex someone, this huge rear end in a top hat named Chris, it backfired and I ended up having to go to the hospital. Nearly gave my mum a heart attack. Another time I got just a little bit too mad, slipped up for one second, and that's all it took for me to hex Allison. She ended up losing seven teeth. I really didn't mean to do that to her, it was awful and the replacement teeth she got still look off and it makes me feel terrible when I think about it. Even though what I did to Allison was egregious, it's nothing compared to what I wish I could do to my dad. Even if he's the reason I know how to use hexes and curses at all. I have his books, I found them when I was searching my mum's closet for my presents near Christmas when I was ten. A whole box of old books, carefully secreted away at the very back of the closet. I started to read them, figured out who wrote them, and nearly stopped. But some of the phrases in them stuck in my head - sympathetic link, resonance, incantation, stuff like that - and eventually I'd poured through all of them. In secret, of course. After that I figured out how to decode them, then started working on putting theory into practice. Like I mentioned about hexing Chris, it didn't always work great... but I've gotten the hang of it by now. Which is why my dad having a shield, or something that blocks me, is so frustrating. I have his books! They're a surefire sympathetic link, but they don't work. He deserves it for just running out on us... I remember it, he just put down the phone, looked at us both, and left without even saying anything! He deserves every hex I know and more, but as I've stressed - magic is less useful than you'd think. Anyways, magic didn't help me get into Saint Andrew’s, either. That took a combination of good grades and being an all too public charity case. They might as well have just announced it on the first day, because I think everyone's figured it out already. It's a little better than my old school all things taken into account. I even kinda like the uniforms. Makes me think of Harry Potter. I'd be a Ravenclaw, by the way. In case you haven't guessed by now, they're my favorite books ever. Anyways, I guess I'll just try and avoid the real snobby jerks and bullies, try to make some friends, and keep the whole witch thing under wraps. I'll be collecting tokens though, just in case. quote:Name: Megan Brooks Rauri fucked around with this message at 01:21 on Feb 28, 2015 |
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Feb 27, 2015 08:27
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I'll get backstory up after work.   quote:Name: Pearl Watson, The Selkie 
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Feb 27, 2015 13:55
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Ha-ha, my great-great-great-[etc.]-granddad chopped up your cousin  E: Actually drat, I should've worked the Dragon of Wantley into my backstory, but I'm not up on my British dragon-lore and I like the idea of being the new girl in town a lot. I can change it if enough people think it's a good idea, though. Pththya-lyi fucked around with this message at 14:49 on Feb 27, 2015 |
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Feb 27, 2015 14:18
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Questions Round 2 First Questions Jyklad “John Smith” Xex Q1: Can I call you John? I don’t want to cause an interstellar incident by accidentally mispronouncing your real name that’s all. So Earth is a bit of a let-down for you huh. Still there must be something about this insignificant blue dust ball that attracted you and your dad here in the first place. What was it? And what about it turned out to be disappointing? Jessica Mallory the Vampire Q1: Wow, all that from one bottle of wine. I take it seeing all those crucifixes on the walls isn’t bothering you and well the one positive thing about the British weather is you won’t be seeing the sun for another six months or so. Have you noticed if any of the other cliché Hollywood vampire stuff applies yet? Donna Wharncliffe the Wyrm Q1: So you like to collect jewellery. It’s nice to see an old-fashioned dragon in this day and age going back to the good old standbys of gold and jewels. Still who was the last person to try and steal something from you? and what did you do to them when you caught them? Megan Brooks the Witch Q1: Being poor is pretty bad right, but being poor in a school with a lot rich kids must be even worse. Who was the last kid to bully you for being poor and what did you do to them to get revenge? Second Questions Blake Dunsmuir the Infernal Q2: Blake I imagine life is pretty sweet for you right now. So tell me have you met anyone you want to share your good life with yet since moving into town? And how did Veraxes react to that? Zed Ferguson the Ghoul Q2: So you seem to have a pretty good handle on the whole walking dead thing for now. But how are your family taking it? Have you noticed any real difference in the way they treat you? Phillipa "Pippa" Lambton the Chosen Q2: Pippa, I know you are new in town and all but have you had any run-ins with the local supernatural community yet? How did that work out for you? Hope I haven't missed anyone.
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Feb 27, 2015 21:42
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Ferrosol posted:Jessica Mallory the Vampire Yeah, that was a bit of a relief. It took me ages to work up the nerve to pass one of the crosses on the wall after I realized what had happened to be. But it turns out, nothing. At least, not when they're just laying there. I still haven't risked going up to the big one on the wall of the church, and so far no one has shoved one in my face yelling about the Power of Christ so I won't know for sure about that until its happened. The last time we had a sunny day I tested it out carefully, and it doesn't look like the sun sets me on fire either, but it does send my vision to hell and back if it's remotely bright, basically swapped my day and night vision from before. I'm a lot paler now too. I haven't had any trouble entering houses or crossing running water, but dipping my hand in the font of holy water stung like hell, and I haven't been able to turn into a bat yet. Maybe I'm just not trying in the right way? I didn't get some magical handbook when I turned, I have to figure this all out myself, and it sucks. Ordinary food tastes like cardboard when I eat it, and anything with garlic tastes even worse, but I lost a sock the other day and that didn't bother me at all. My body is colder than normal and I don't need to breathe, but let me tell you, the worst, absolute worst, is not having a reflection. Do you know how hard it is to look good when you can't see yourself, or anything you're holding and wearing in a mirror? Well, I suppose I seem to always look good to people now, but I have some pride in my appearance.
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Feb 28, 2015 01:35
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Ferrosol posted:Second Questions Oh there's a couple people that I'd like to introduce to the good life, if you know what I mean. But I'm not an idiot- this is a school filled with a bunch of religious nutjobs. I don't really want to be strapped to a bedframe getting "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU" shouted at me until I start faking vomiting and twitching. That being said, I've been here a couple years, and there's this one girl, Vanessa, who seems that she'd have similar persuasions to me. Veraxes keeps whispering in my ear to be careful, like a loving helicopter parent that literally never leaves, but I think he's a bit happy that there's another potential soul that he'll own. And before you ask, no I'd rather not ask Veraxes for a lady or a dude. I did that last year, and all the fallout put me deep in Veraxes' debt. berenzen fucked around with this message at 01:57 on Feb 28, 2015 |
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Feb 28, 2015 01:55
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 Things haven't been the same since Father died a year ago. Mum says it's for the best -- that God works in mysterious ways, that all things happen for a reason. I want to believe her, but everything's just been so hard. Not only did Father's death leave me -- us -- alone, but it's also left us struggling financially. He was a good man, Mum repeats (and I know,) but he'd apparently been hiding unpaid debts, fallen-through investments, and a horror show of monetary problems. I'd already had trouble fitting in at school ('twiggy little homo' was the insult du jour), but now I had to dodge sympathy as well as scorn. Pity feels hollow and cheap, and few who offer it actually care. Even at church, it's not like anyone offered to take up a collection for us. The only thing we've been given are words. Not that I'm mad! I mean, I forgive everyone. Times are tough. But they don't have to lay it on so thick, is all. At least this part-time job has been good for me, I think. People tell me I've been 'coming out of my shell' and other played-out metaphors, and while I'm not sure I agree -- pulling espresso shots at Starbucks isn't going to get me on the debate team -- I guess I've made a few ... not friends, but something close, I guess. It's nice, but it doesn't fill that void any more than a year's worth of praying and begging has. Still, maybe it's a start. It's kind of nice to feel wanted, for once. And if nothing else, I'm getting pretty good at latte art... quote:The Mortal ( Never done this before, so I hope I didn't screw anything up! ) someone awful. fucked around with this message at 20:28 on May 13, 2015 |
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Feb 28, 2015 02:38
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Pththya-lyi posted:Ha-ha, my great-great-great-[etc.]-granddad chopped up your cousin Hey, nothing says one of your ancestors couldn't have been passing through, or got called in to deal with the poor sap. I like the idea of it basically being super embarrassing for everyone involved, and so the story doesn't get passed down properly. Ferrosol posted:Donna Wharncliffe the Wyrm Other than my older sister Liz 'borrowing' a couple of pieces to wear on a date with her horrible gawky sixth form boyfriend? Ugh, the thought of his greasy fingers on my pristine 16th century silver... That's not what you were asking about though. When we moved in to Sheffield proper one of the movers let a ring that belonged to me fall into his pocket, and walked out with it. I could feel it was missing, and I...followed the scent, I suppose. He tried to flog it off probably to buy smack with, but the jeweler wouldn't give him enough. I caught up with him at the Blonk Street bridge, and because there was no-one else around I confronted him. He tried to laugh me off, then he tried to hit me, and we ended up in the river. I don't really know or care what happened to him after that, but I got out with the ring. It wasn't even valuable - gold plated, with a little garnet in it, used to belong to a silent film actress - but it was mine and I don't let my things go missing. I got Liz back by telling her that the love of her life was cheating on her with one of her mates. And then I spent the afternoon polishing my poor silver.
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Feb 28, 2015 04:13
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Ferrosol posted:Megan Brooks the Witch You'd think other kids would leave me alone about it, since it's sucky enough already with them adding on. They're not the reason their families are rich; it's not my fault we're poor. And we're not even that poor anymore, I swear. Mum's car still starts unless it's really cold out, and everything works but the signals and heat. And we haven't had to stay at my nan's house for longer than a weekend in over four years, and that was just when they made mistakes and disconnected our power even though mum told them she'd paid. She just had a really hard time after dad left, and told me she stopped taking her medicine for a while. And she'd never had a job before he left, either, so that's why she's not able to find many jobs. We'd be doing even better if she'd let me get a job, but I'm not allowed since she wants me to focus on school! Oh, uh... sorry for that. I should answer your question and not be quite so defensive. Last person to bully me? Richard Bowman. What'd he do? Well, he'd been calling me names since I got here, and him and his mates found out where my mum works, so they took a picture of her there and made sure to show it to everyone to try and humiliate me. He deserved a hex at this point, but I was holding off and trying to just ignore him. I figured if I didn't react, he'd switch to someone else. But last week, he stole the fiver I had and then ripped it up in front of me, laughing with his friends about my life savings being gone. It was just... it was so petty and cruel, and I'd have enough. So the next day in class, I asked Richard to borrow a pencil. I figured he'd launch into some nasty tirade about how I couldn't afford one of my own, and was right. But I also figured he'd let me borrow it too, so all it took was "losing" it later and getting it back to my secret bedroom. The ritual was simple enough - I drew a circle on a sheet of paper using his pencil, added some additional diagrams (moon, sun, and sublimation) on top of it to shape the spell, used five cigarettes in lieu of candles at the major conjunctions, and then finished by putting the pencil in the center and focusing the hex onto it. After that I had to dash back to the school - I didn't have any extracurriculars, but Richard did. He's on the football team, and they had a match. From what I understand I missed the best part - Richard pointing towards the other team and shrieking about demons, then trying to climb to the top of his team's goal to get away from them while crying and wetting himself - but watching him freak out and get strapped to the gurney while they carted him off to hospital was good enough for me. Hopefully, it'll be harder for him to make fun of me when everyone thinks he's mental. Even if it's not, he's a jerk, he deserved the hex, and I'd do it again. I still have the pencil, after all.
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Feb 28, 2015 04:48
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Ferrosol posted:Zed Ferguson the Ghoul I sometimes think that the attitude came with the condition. Death has an amazingly clarifying effect on the brain. I don't think my pre-accident self was quite this matter-of-fact or... sociopathic. My parents are taking it less well. Father refuses to contemplate it. He doesn't have room for loas or voudoun or any of that in his mental space, and he never liked my mother's family. As far as he's concerned, I just took a bad turn, and I'm still shaking off the lingering effects of the accident. After all, it's not like I was buried and clawed my way out of my own grave; people flatline in hospitals every day. Most of them, admittedly, develop a pulse before climbing out of bed and looking for their clothes. He comes home less often than he used to, and spends more nights working at the office. I don't think he wants to face me. Mother knows, I think, but is in deep denial. She's a second generation immigrant; she grew up in Edinburgh, but with tales of the Caribbean from her mother to at least give a name to what I am. The few times I've tried to talk about it, though, she became hysterical. As if it will go away if we don't talk about it long enough. I think that she wanted me to transfer to Saint Andrews because she believes on some level that a Catholic school will buffer me from the Hunger. Holy ground, and all that. It hasn't worked so far.
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Feb 28, 2015 06:40
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More questions for people. Questions Round 3 First Questions Thomas “Thom” Brody Q1: I’m sorry to hear about your loss. It can’t be easy losing a father when you are that young. And so much for being treated with Christian charity. How has the whole experience affected your faith? Second Questions Jessica Mallory the Vampire Q2: Is blood just blood for you or have you started developing preferences yet Jessica? Was there a particular person you really enjoyed feeding on or hated the taste of? Donna Wharncliffe the Wyrm Q2: So how much do your family know about the dragon thing anyway? Are any of them jealous that you are your grandfather’s successor? Megan Brooks the Witch Q2: One thing I’d like to know is there anyone you’ve ever hexed that you’ve regretted doing so? If there is how did you make it up to them? Third Questions Blake Dunsmuir the Infernal Q3: Blake what was the one thing you refused to do that Veraxes asked you to? And how did he punish you for turning down his request? Zed Ferguson the Ghoul Q3: Sorry it just looked like you had a pretty good handle on it from where I was standing. So what did happen the last time you lost control of your hunger? And how did you dispose of the evidence?
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Feb 28, 2015 15:57
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Are you cool with duplicate skins? I was thinking Witch or Mortal but those both have submissions.
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Feb 28, 2015 17:57
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AXE COP posted:Are you cool with duplicate skins? I was thinking Witch or Mortal but those both have submissions. I'm fine with that yeah.
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Feb 28, 2015 18:11
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Ferrosol posted:
I've always been told this is how it's supposed to work. That you suffer, and you endure, and you may even curse God's name some days, asking night after night why He took this or why you felt that -- but you don't just give up on Him. He... tests us. Because He loves us. That's just life. I've been going through my study bible, from Sunday school when I was a kid, and, you know, highlighting things. "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." That kind of thing. And yes, I know reeling off Bible verses like that is why people think I'm weird. So I trust Him. I've heard all the arguments, like, God's arbitrary and cruel, why would He create suffering if He loves us, and what the Hell was up with that whole binding of Isaac thing, but I... I firmly believe that He makes us hurt because pain makes us stronger. He loves us. And ... it means a lot, being loved. You don't just give up on someone who loves you because they hurt you sometimes, right? Honestly, the thing that's been harder than keeping my faith in God has been keeping my faith in humanity. I've always held that people are inherently good, and we're supposed to practice forgiveness in life, so I do that. The economy is terrible, people put themselves first. That -- I get it. We can't all be the good Samaritan. But why's my family the one who gets shunned? My father had friends; he was a good man. Well-liked. But then he dies and it seems like nobody cares. That's what seems arbitrary and cruel to me, not God.
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Feb 28, 2015 18:12
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Ferrosol posted:Jyklad “John Smith” Xex "John is fine. My parent claims that mankind is fascinating to observe mainly due to it's variety and diversity. In one part of the planet someone can be on the edge of figuring out the next step to mastering space travel while on another part someone can be barely clinging to life in a dilapidated shack without electricity. Furthermore, there is the matter of being able to observe a pre-space-travel society and trying to figure out why they haven't managed it yet. Perhaps I'd be more interested if we were in a location that actually had a variety of people and scenery. We might even come off as more inconspicuous. I mean, look at this disguise!  I may be young, but I am certain that no normal human resembles this.
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Feb 28, 2015 23:11
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Ferrosol posted:Q2: So how much do your family know about the dragon thing anyway? Are any of them jealous that you are your grandfather’s successor? Well, there's family and family isn't there? Grandad knows that I'm the new 'hatchling' (and can be a proper jealous twat about it on his own, believe you me), Great-Gran Mary is the other member of the family who is, uh, fully informed, but she doesn't come out in public much anymore. Too hard to look human. Because I'm new it's harder for me to be a dragon than a human, but that's going to change as I get older. My parents know that the olds have picked me to be some kind of successor, but they don't know everything. Liz is perpetually jealous of me but that's more because I'm smarter and better looking and I don't have to go around with gross rugby players to look cool than because she knows anything. To be honest there isn't that much to know about the whole thing - about once a generation one of us finds out they can turn into a giant scaled monster and loves to collect...things. People. Land. Secrets. I love my jewellery but hoarding pretty much anything valuable is kind of a compulsion with us. That's one of the reasons we tend not to get along, I think. Eventually we butt heads over territory and resources and from what Great-Gran says we don't back down. That's why there aren't many of us. That and the sustained efforts of certain humans to wipe us out over the years. We don't help each other against mobs or knights or atomic testing, we just laugh and gather whatever is left of the losers hoard. Kind of depressing. As soon as I'm old enough to fend for myself (which could be tomorrow, or in fifty years, who even knows?) Grandad is probably going to try and drive me away from Mum and Dad, and Sheffield in general. Maybe he'll win, maybe I will. If the loser survives I think they get go hid in a cave for while? Maybe that's just tradition. I don't know why Great-Gran is less obnoxious than Grandad, maybe she's just better at hiding it. I only see her at Christmas anyway, or when I can be bothered hiking all the way out to the cave, which is basically never now that I've got school. She's nice, in a giant predatory way. Like cross your favorite grandma with a crocodile and a blast furnace.
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Mar 1, 2015 01:05
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Ferrosol posted:Megan Brooks the Witch Well first off, I try to make certain people deserve it - I don't use curses on people except as an absolute last resort. Almost anyone else wouldn't be as careful with them as me. My dad's notes stressed being selective and secretive, and while he's a lovely dad he's a really excellent wizard based on his writings, so I'm careful to observe his advice. If everyone that's mean to you has horrible stuff happen to them, someone will eventually spot that pattern and after that your life gets extra complicated, fast. That said, I've messed up before. This worst time was with my Aunt Claire. She's always been really rude and nasty to us even though my mum's nice to her, and so I've always hated having to see her and I think she knows. One night at my nan's house though, she said something to my mum - I didn't know what at the time. I was in a different room helping nan when she said it, and mum wouldn't tell me even though it made her cry for the rest of the night... and that was the last straw. I snuck downstairs, rifled through Aunt Claire's purse for a sympathetic token, and then hid in the bathroom with it in order to hex her. I was even proud of the spell when I finished it... there was no backlash, I'd channeled and formed everything perfectly, and I'd managed to draw the diagrams correctly without even having the lights on. Really wish I'd messed it up. I knew I'd gone too far when I heard the rest of my family screaming downstairs. I ran there, and it was... it was really bad. Aunt Claire looked like something out of a slasher movie, or one of those videos they show you to scare you out of getting pregnant. There was just blood everywhere, and everyone was freaking out... it ended up with mum and I spending the night at hospital while the doctors tried to figure out what had happened, and why. I don't think med schools cover witchcraft though, so obviously they couldn't figure it out. And while we spent those long hours in the waiting room, it was super obvious how much my mum loves her sister, even if she's horrible to her. I don't have any siblings, so I guess I don't get it or something. But... even after she'd been so mean to her, my mum just wanted her to get better. She even drove out to to Aunt Claire's every night for two weeks to check on her. I volunteered to go with her, since the whole thing was my fault to begin with. While we were they I also had the joy of finding out that, according the doctors, she lost so much blood she might've died if we hadn't gotten her help as quickly as we did. I nearly killed my aunt, just because I was mad. The lesson I tried to take from it was that, even if someone's horrible, they probably have people who aren't who inexplicably love them anyways - and that my hexes might end up hurting them too. And that I shouldn't use hexes when I'm angry, because it's too easy to hurt someone really badly, way more than they deserve. And that lastly, I should be nicer to Aunt Claire, if only for mum's sake. Certainly never hexing her again.
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Mar 1, 2015 02:33
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Hey, withdrawing my (unfinished) ap, just going to be too busy to give another game proper attention. Have fun everybody!
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Mar 1, 2015 02:35
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Ferrosol posted:Zed Ferguson the Ghoul The first was the first time I ever fed. When I got out of hospital, I was listless and depressed. Everything felt numb, and grey, and my insides felt hollowed out. I slept fitfully, and had terrible nightmares. I ate, but it didn't satisfy me, and the gnawing hunger remained. I didn't understand what was going on until Lawson, the bokor, rapped on my window one night. The old man had a Styrofoam cooler slung under his arm, and when I opened the window, he tossed it at me. The outside was plastered with red biohazard tape and big blocky stenciled letters saying "Human Organ for Transplant: Do Not Freeze". Inside was a liver. Before i even knew what i was doing I'd torn into it and had eaten half of it. I stared at Lawson, wearing pajamas, my lips and fingers smeared with blood. "You're dead," he explained, laying my condition out bluntly in a handful of sentences. He told me I'd have to eat human flesh or go mad from starvation. He told me that the urge can be put off, for a time, by eating pounds of raw, bloody animal meat -- pork works best, but any will do -- but that eventually I'd turn to cannibalism if I wanted to survive. So he advised me to find a discrete source to feed from, because he intended to return and collect on his investment. Then he left. Since then, it's been hard. There's only so many butcher shops within a bus ride of my house, for one thing, and people look at you funny when you buy ten pounds of meat at a time. And no matter what I do, it doesn't... satisfy... the... craving. Terry Bryce was the second time. It was a few weeks before I was set to transfer to Saint Andrews, at my old school. We both played football, for different teams; I never had much interest in sport before, but ever since my resurrection I'm freakish strong and I don't get tired. Terry was an rear end in a top hat; he was always hitting on me. Terry had Handsome Jerkass Syndrome; well fit, but not all that good looking, but convinced he was God's gift to all girls. I don't know how many times I cut him down that summer, but that last time, he bumped against me, all smirking and copping a feel, and he smelled delicious. It wasn't as if I made a conscious decision or had a plan, I just grabbed him and tugged him behind the equipment lockers. I guess Terry thought he had finally won the lottery, because we went at hot and heavy, pawing and necking, right up until the point where I bit a ragged chunk out of his neck. Fortunately, probably, I wasn't anywhere near the carotid or jugular or anything vital. I wasn't thinking that clearly, or at all. At the moment, all I could think was that it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. Terry screamed his lungs out and kicked me off of him and ran. I was terrified that he'd go to the police, but he didn't. I guess he was worried that it might look like sexual assault, from his end. I didn't see him again before I transferred. Since then, I've managed to hold it together without attacking anyone, but I learned my lesson; whatever I do, going forward, there can't be any more witnesses.
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Mar 1, 2015 06:34
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Questions Round 4 Second Questions Thomas “Thom” Brody Q2: So Thom, that’s quite an unusual nickname by the way how did you come by it? Most of the Thomas’s I know go by Tom or Tommy. But I digress. After your dad died did you and your mom ever figure out what your dad was borrowing all that money for in the first place? Jyklad “John Smith” Xex Q2: I see you’ve noticed the annoying habit young humans have of rebelling against their parents. Has observing this inspired any acts of rebellion on your part? And how did your own father respond to that? Third Questions Donna Wharncliffe the Wyrm Q3: Man that must be pretty rough knowing your own family will turn on you like that. Let’s talk about something a little more cheerful. Which item in your hoard is the most valuable to you? And what embarrassing thing did you have to do to acquire it? Megan Brooks the Witch Q3: Has anyone ever caught you in the act of casting a hex? How did you explain away what you were doing?
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Mar 1, 2015 12:06
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Ferrosol posted:Phillipa "Pippa" Lambton the Chosen Not exactly a "run-in," but... there's this nice old man who lives next door to us, Mr. Goodfellow. He's all alone, no family, just puttering around his house and tending to his garden -- which is gorgeous, by the by. I've never seen flowers so big. Anyway, Mr Goodfellow came over to see us when we were doing the moving in, had a nice long chat with Mum, told us to let him know if we were having any trouble settling in. Well, the first week of school, not a single person wanted to talk to me. Didn't even make fun of me, just ignored me. If I asked to sit with somebody, they'd just say "No thanks," and turn away. It was really awful, you know? I couldn't imagine a whole year without anyone to talk to, so by the time Saturday came around I was feeling kind of desperate. I just thought, "If I can keep Mr. Goodfellow company, maybe he could be my friend." So on Saturday I made him some scones and brought them over for tea. You should have seen his eyes light up when he saw the plate! He insisted I stay for a cuppa, kept going on about how "lovely" I was and how I was different from all the other young people - that I understood the "value of courtesy." Then asked me how I was doing, and I just ... let it all out. I started crying, telling him him how lonely and sad I was. He just took me up in a hug and told me he could make everything better for me. All I had to do was keep bringing him the scones, every Saturday. Would I promise to do that? Well, I just thought he was being a dotty old man. How could he possibly help me make friends at school? But he was so nice and sweet that I agreed. I started to thank him, but he stopped me - and he seemed really angry about it too, like he was offended that I would even try to thank him. It was kind of scary, how angry he was. But I did stop, and by the time I was ready to leave, he was really happy, whistling to himself. And when I heard the whistling I started to believe that he really would make things better. And sure enough, during Monday lunch Elise Forman invited me to sit with her and her mates. She's really posh and popular - the kind of person who never would have paid attention to me at my old school - but she was all excited when I agreed. The whole period she and her mates kept asking me about myself, laughing at my stories about life back home, telling me how "cool" I am. Now I'm part of their circle, and I fit in as if I've always been there. It feels like someone invites me out to the cafe or the mall or to a party almost every day: most everyone wants to be around me. (Everyone except Jayson, of course - he doesn't seem to care about popularity or being cool. I think that's why I like him so much.) So next Saturday I take the scones to Mr. Goodfellow, just as I promised, and we have tea together. I tell him about how popular I've become and I ask him if he really did have anything to do with it. "Ho ho ho! How could I?" he says. "I'm just old Robin Goodfellow." But he way he smiles, I know he has everything to do with it. Now, no matter how busy I am keeping up with school and my social calendar, I still make time every Saturday to bake some scones and bring them to tea with Mr. Goodfellow. Sometimes I think about skipping teatime, but I'm afraid of what might happen to me if I do. E: Just FYI, I'm switching from Volatile 2 to Hot 2, to better reflect Pippa's supernatural popularity and lack of monster-hunting experience. Pththya-lyi fucked around with this message at 18:40 on Mar 1, 2015 |
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Mar 1, 2015 12:30
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Ferrosol posted:Third Questions There's a couple things that Veraxes has asked me to do that have made me uneasy where I refused. There was this one time though... he asked me to take a package to somebody. At first, I thought nothing of it- it was an easy job, no problems. Then the packaging ripped in my locker, and there was a ton of pictures- you know the stalkery black and white ones that you see in all the movies- all showing this one dude. A schedule that he follows, everything. So I start freaking the gently caress out- drug running, money laundering, grave defiling. That's all fine, but here I was being a gopher for an assassination. When I confronted Veraxes about it, he confirmed my suspicions, and told me to do it. When I refused, he said that was fine. The next day, a train derailed and killed about sixty people and injured a couple hundred more, including killing the person that I saw in the photos. I burned everything that night, make sure that nothing could tie back to me on it. For the next month, Veraxes put me through hell. Every time I fell asleep, I would watch the entire scene from a passenger's point of view. Feel their fear and panic as the train derailed and tore itself apart. The feeling of blood trickling down my head and then feeling the uselessness as my neck snaps before everything goes black. That's not the end of the dream however- y'see, Veraxes was taking a memory of a soul he owned, and that memory also had that soul's first few moments in hell. I can't describe it, save that it was agony and torment beyond any sort of mortal possibility. During this entire 'dream' Veraxes was whispering in my head "All those deaths, they were your fault. Obey me, and you can avoid this torment". I still don't know if he was telling the truth, but I can tell you that I didn't get much sleep that month.
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Mar 1, 2015 17:44
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Ferrosol posted:Thomas "Thom" Brody All through primary school I was a Tommy. And Mum calls me Tommy. It's... babying, except when it's her. She says it differently. So I thought ... I thought if I changed what I was called, it might make a difference how I was thought of. Names have power -- at least, I think so. So Thom it was. I nicked it from Thom Yorke. Listening to Radiohead was life-changing. This is probably stupid. I feel like it's made a difference, like maybe I'm less of a target or something. I might just be imagining it, but that's all right. It's always been Mum's way to hide things from me. She's -- not very good at it. I could tell when she'd been fighting with Father, like -- and they did fight, but that was only normal, right? All couples fight sometimes -- 'cause she'd look a little too cheerful, and she always hums to herself in this sort of tuneless way. She gets like that when I ask what's happened. I -- I want to respect her, really I do, but this... I needed to know. So I looked in her office one night. Went through her browser history, logged into her bank account. Without context, a lot of it's just depressingly large numbers. Stuff like credit cards used to pay off other credit cards -- I'd always figured he was smarter than that. What did he need that kind of money for, anyway? He was a pharmacologist, and as far as I knew it paid well enough. He'd have to go on business trips a lot -- to seminars and stuff -- and I s'pose it's okay if he wants to enjoy himself when he's traveling, but this can't just be from that. Then I started poking through the paperwork laying around, and I honestly wish I hadn't. Child support payments? To some woman I'd never heard of, for two children? At first, I was -- well, not hurt, but confused. But the more I think on it the more it sort of makes things come together. I've never known much of his side of the family. We always went to mum's side for holidays. She has a huge family -- they really took the whole 'be fruitful and multiply' thing to heart, I guess -- so I'd be surrounded by aunts and cousins and whatever else... Point is, I'd never really given my father's family much thought. If he had something like this to hide from us -- from me -- it makes sense. There was more -- I'm sure there was -- but I kind of stopped looking at that point. I felt like an rear end. I still feel like an rear end. People are allowed to have secrets, even in death, and there I was, digging up my father's for no good reason. He should have told me, though! I'd never have been mad; I'm not even mad now. It's kind of noble, actually, that he'd try to keep giving me the sort of life I was used to, even if he was, um, complete poo poo with finances. He tried, and I reckon that's worth respect. I don't feel betrayed at all. I feel like I betrayed him, by finding out something he'd wanted kept from me. So now, when I pray at night, I make sure he knows he's forgiven, and I ask him to forgive me, too. Mum doesn't know that I know, either. So that's ... awkward. We don't have much time to talk anymore, with Mum picking up whatever extra hours she can (she works at the post office) and me trying not to fail every single class ever while keeping up with my job, and I've never been anything like as close to her as I was with my father. I have no idea how I'd begin to talk about it if I tried, so I just... don't. I did make a whiny tumblr post about it, though...
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Mar 1, 2015 19:14
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Ferrosol posted:Megan Brooks the Witch Oh man. Thanks a lot for reminding me. I was at my old school, and there was another girl named Marcie that I'd been partnered with in science class. And she didn't do any of the work on our big project for the term, and then tried to argue MY half of the B down, saying she'd have gotten an A if I'd not messed the project up. I was, understandably, rather angry with her. That's why I grabbed a pencil of hers - sidenote, almost everyone is horrible at safeguarding their pencils and the stuff they throw away - and hung behind in the classroom while everyone else left for lunch. I was most of the way done with the hex when Philip came back to the room because he'd forgotten something. Not good. If anything, I'm lucky the spell didn't detonate on me then and there. I definitely lost control because I stopped chanting after he surprised me, and I stammered for a second or two before thinking of a good excuse. Thank God I was holding the pencil for the ritual... I confessed to him that I was "playing Harry Potter." The pencil was a makeshift wand, and the arcane words I was incanting were clearly just the usual Harry Potter pseudo-latin. It's not like my love of the books was a big secret, so he believed me instantly. And made sure to tell everyone else back in the lunch room what I'd been doing, so I got to put up with some people making fun of the books to me, and the others just skipping a step and making fun of me directly. For being a dork and for believing in magic, hilariously enough. It could have been worse though. Pretty sure they'd have taken the idea of a real witch a lot more seriously than a pretend one. Months of minor humiliations was probably a small price to pay.
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Mar 2, 2015 05:57
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Ferrosol posted:Q3: Man that must be pretty rough knowing your own family will turn on you like that. Let’s talk about something a little more cheerful. Which item in your hoard is the most valuable to you? And what embarrassing thing did you have to do to acquire it? Ahh, it's not all that bad. Everyone fights with their family sooner or later, we just play for keeps. And it's not like even if I get driven off I won't be able to talk to Mum and Dad - Grandad's sense of territory stopped developing before the telephone was invented, and he definitely doesn't understand Facebook. Great-Gran gets confused if you talk about anything newer than a steam engine, and even then she just can't understand why they replaced horses. My best piece, and my favorite, is this one:  Anglo-Saxon, the sort of thing that got dug up at Sutton Hoo. It's a solid gold brooch, with the exception of the silver chasing and the gems. It is absolutely exquisite, when I hold it I can practically hear the old kings and princes who would have worn it. Probably worth about 10,000 pounds, and all I had to pay for it was my dignity. Collectors of old jewellery are a pretty insular bunch, they all know each other, and they don't like to talk to the authorities because anything really old and good 'belongs in a museum' or 'is stolen'. So when a new face (me) comes on the scene, is too young to be a plant from the Royal Society or whoever, and starts talking shop it turns out the anoraks start competing for attention. One old duffer thought I was the daughter he never had or something and insisted on taking me to tea and showing me his collection. Absolutely mortifying, especially when some of the girls from school saw me at a coffee shop with him and thought that he was creeping on me and called the police. The whole thing got cleaned up and he didn't go to prison or anything but his collection got confiscated. Except for the bits I kept, of course. Every now and again some smart bint likes to make jokes about me liking older men, which is not true, but if that's the price I pay for getting something ancient and beautiful, well...fine. I'll take it.
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Mar 2, 2015 06:37
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Questions Round 5 Third Questions Thomas “Thom” Brody the Mortal Q3: Radiohead, Tumblr *sniggers* Ahem, So Thom what would you most like to do in the future? Assuming money was no object of course? Philippa "Pippa" Lambton the Chosen Q3: I know you’re only new at the school but one of the teachers already seems to have it in for you. Who is it? And what do you think you did to upset them?  Recruitment will close in 24 hours So if there are any undecided lurkers thinking about apping now would be the time to do it. Those of you who have already submitted a character sheet have a couple of days to answer your questions. Ferrosol fucked around with this message at 20:39 on Mar 2, 2015 |
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Mar 2, 2015 20:33
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Ferrosol posted:Questions Round 5 aaa shut uuuuup  Do you mean, er, career-wise? I was never one of those kids with big dreams. Or, er. Any dreams, really. 'The future' was always this big, nebulous -- thing, that I'd figure out when I got there, but now I'm staring down the barrel of it things aren't much clearer. I thought if I just waited, I'd stumble into my passion eventually. But it's getting to the point where I'm going to have to just choose something, and cross my fingers that I don't end up hating it. Father Pruett -- he's the priest who usually leads mass -- has been "gently" nudging me towards seminary since I was an altar server. He thinks it's my vocation, and he's probably right? I s'pose? If it isn't, I can't imagine what else would be. I've always just done what I'm told, looking back on it. I think getting this job was the first time I did something because I wanted to. Mum told me not to, even. Said she'd need me around the house now she's working all these double shifts. It felt good, standing up for myself. I love her, but she's very... smothering. Like she forgets I'm not five years old anymore. And father -- he'd encourage me, but he'd get cross if I didn't follow his suggestions. It makes this borderline impossible to answer. I don't know. But, er, there's more to life than what I get paid for. And you said anything, right? I guess -- let me think about it. I remember... one summer at bible camp (I know), when I was maybe eight or nine? Well, it was late one night and I needed the loo, so I nipped out to take care of that. And on the way back -- this is going to sound stupid, but -- I saw something out in the forest. Like a tiny flickering light, only it was the wrong direction to be a lantern or somebody's torch. I was young and a bit daft, so I said to myself something silly like "Oh! Maybe it's an angel!" and of course I tromped through the trees after it, nevermind that it was three in the morning and nobody knew where I was. I got hopelessly lost, and when the counselors found me in the morning everyone thought I was either barmy or a sleepwalker. Laugh if you want, but even now I still think it wasn't something normal -- I think it was a will-o'-the-wisp. A faerie. A spirit. Something weird and out-of-place. I'd have let go of it if I didn't remember it with absolute clarity, and if it weren't for the way seeing it made me feel -- like it was calling to me, or desperately needed me, or something ... A-anyroad, my point is I think... I'd like to spend some time traveling. Not like on holiday, doing boring tourist stuff, but ... Out there. In the unexplored places. I know it's ridiculous, but I'm curious. If I saw one spirit-ghost-wisp-thing, there has to be another out there somewhere, right? And besides, it's nice to be out-of-doors. It's easy to forget how beautiful the world really is if you spend too much time surrounded by urban sprawl and modern technology. More people should. It'd be awful lonesome, though...
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Mar 3, 2015 04:20
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Ferrosol posted:Philippa "Pippa" Lambton the Chosen Before I answer this I'd like a clarification: How many of the teachers are in holy orders? I've never been to a Catholic school, so I don't know this stuff.
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Mar 3, 2015 12:36
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Pththya-lyi posted:Before I answer this I'd like a clarification: How many of the teachers are in holy orders? I've never been to a Catholic school, so I don't know this stuff. Phone posting but very few maybe 1-2 the rest are lay people these days
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Mar 3, 2015 13:10
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