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 Posted: Tue Jan 21, 2014 2:22 am
【xxx Corrupt Priestess of the Sho' Cendi Cathedralxxx】 ██ █ †▐xxxSidra Loyardxxx▌† █ ██
█████████████ █ †▐ ████████xxxf i r s t. g l a n c e.xxx████████ ▌† █ █████████████ █ ▌██ xxxxxxthe doctor declared
█ ▌██ xxxxxxcount the candles
29 (appears early twenties.)
█ ▌██ xxxxxxbreaking the barriers
█ ▌██ xxxxxxwhat the world sees
APPEARANCE HERE!! You can put any extra images in this section. If you wish to write out some extra detailing about your character's appearance as well, that will all go here!!
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Posted: Tue Jan 21, 2014 2:25 am
█████████████ █ †▐ ████████xxxd e l v i n g. d e e p e r.xxx████████ ▌† █ █████████████ █ ▌██ xxxxxxthe true colors
To put it nicely, Sidra isn't very tolerant of people. She thinks most creatures that walk on two legs tend to be idiots, and that makes them very easily influenced. She uses the prestige and power of the church as a tool, which is the most likely reason she seems like a corrupt official. People are easily persuaded in one direction or another, and by using her affiliations as a Priestess its even easier to trick them to thinking the way she wants them too. She's manipulative, and the fact that people are so easily manipulated by her is more than likely the leading cause of her hatred toward them. Few people seem to see past her tricks and deceit, most take her lies for fact and don't argue just because of her status.
But for the few that can see past it, for the few that realize how corrupt and manipulative she is, there are a few other things to notice. She crumbles at the mention of love, something she's never truly experienced. Talk of family makes her defensive and rather bitter, and she's not very understanding of other people who have experienced loss as she frequently thinks her own was harder than anyone else's could ever be. In truth, beneath all her cruelty, all the acting out, she's rather fragile inside, but it takes a lot to get through that thick skin of hers.
She operates on three defensive mechanisms in particular, and uses them interchangeably according to the situation. When threatened, she threatens back, usually a lot more fiercely than her opponent and more than likely much more serious in her intent. Where that fails, she has her well practiced lying, in which she can weave a web of lies at the drop of a hat and be so concise almost anyone would fall for them, including the most practiced of deceivers. Third, what is probably her most successful but least used of methods, is crying. Looking weak is not her preference in any situation, but there are some times when the only way to get out unscathed is to look as damaged as possible. If there's anything that can be used to manipulate someone toward her end goal, she'll use it, she's not above any dirty tactics, she just prefers to keep her hands clean when possible.
█ ▌██ xxxxxxa sense of nostalgia
There were days in Sidra’s youth when she was nothing but a child. Anywhere she slept she was happy to call home, and she knew nothing of the world outside her family’s walls. They were days she remembered less and less with age; childhood became almost as foreign a thought to her in time as the home she’d once lived in. She was maybe five the day it burned; too young to understand the losses, too confused to know what she could do. Only the day before she’d been playing in the yard with other children, but that day it was splotched red and black with flames as people all around her rushed to douse the fire and return the house to darkness.
That night was the earliest memory she held onto. It was filled with flashes of brilliant colors, all of them red to a child’s eyes. The woman she called nan had grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the fire when there was no end to it, and she remembered a man running and sweeping her nan into his arms like a sack of flour, with a little Sidra pressed between them. Nan wasn’t old yet then; she only looked thirty, though they say that sight is the easiest sense to fool. Still, Sidra called her Nan despite her looks because the woman was not her mother, but cared for her as if she were. In the fire it was her Nan who’d dragged her away from the roaring flames, it was Nan who had offered her another roof to sleep under when she could not bear to keep her eyelids up anymore, and some time down the road it was Nan who took her on the journey that would ultimately change her fate forever.
It was a year after the fire the first time Sidra saw the lights of the Sho’Cendi cathedral from afar. They were brilliant and glowing, calling in every walk of life through the gates to worship the gods who had made the earth beneath their feet, the air that filled their lungs, and the bodies they all took so much for granted. Until that day she’d always heard stories, but there was nothing quite so pretty as seeing the real thing looming in the distance with a welcoming glow to call out to all the people. Only six years old, in that instance she understood why her Nan had traveled so far on a pilgrimage with a little girl, not even her own blood, to see this cathedral and pay respect to the three gods. Years later, when Nan was gone from her side, the cathedral would be the first place she returned to, but here reunion with the great steps at its forefront were not in the way she had expected when she was young.
Early in her sixteenth year her Nan passed. No one really knew the cause; all the doctors said it was natural, that she’d been sick a long time and was just good at hiding it, but Sidra was doubtful since she’d spent so much time with the woman in the months before her death. Truthfully, it didn’t matter how it happened, because whether it was natural or not did not change Sidra’s reaction. In the wake of her second mother’s funeral, she sent off from her second home the same as she had the first: leaving a pile of ashes at her feet. With nowhere else to go she made her second pilgrimage to the Cathedral in Sho’ Cendi, the only place left where she held nothing but good memories. It was just as glorious to behold the second time as it was the first, but Sidra made no plans to go inside. She was resentful of the gods, angry they would take away something she cared so much for, and when her Nan was still so young. Her plan was to make a business of all the people that came so far for the cathedral. She’d get a job at an inn along the way, save up her money until she could buy an inn for herself. Well, at least that was the plan, but apparently life had different plans.
Her first night outside the Cathedral turned into a disaster, and would probably be the night that changed the course of her life for good. In the dark of a moonless sky she lost her money to thieves, and found herself sleeping at the foot of the Cathedral steps when she found nowhere else that would take her. It was the night she met the priestess whom she called her mentor, and it was the first night of many that would lead her down the path she walks now.
It took years of study and training to become a priestess. There wasn’t much time for personal affairs, and even less for fun or romance, not that there was room for the later as a member of the church anyways. The strongest memory along that journey was of her mentor, her friend, only days after Sidra had been granted the title of priestess. For a long time she’d held in her first thoughts of religion, ever since the day they’d pulled her from the steps she’d never mentioned how she hadn’t come to Sho’Cendi as a worshiper, but it seemed there were some things she could only hide for so long.
“We found you on the steps, your hands covered in ash and your feet in mud. With the kindness of our hearts and the glory of our faith we took you into the cathedral, kicking and screaming like the light of a god might burn you, but we did not give up. You think we should have turned you out the door, don’t you? You think a starving orphan was pity enough, and to see that mess of a person squirm against faith should have been sign enough we let you go then. But you know we didn’t, and why?” They were her mentors words that rang.
“Because you were fools.” Sidra was flipping through texts in the grand Cathedral library. She spent a lot of time there, especially recently, always searching for some sort of proof she supposed.
“Because we knew that a child as lost as you needed to see the lights. Did you not think the Cathedral lights were beautiful? Weren’t they what made you feel like the gods could be there at your side if you only had the faith to believe in them?” This was the kind of thing her mentor always pressed about. Feeling their presence, knowing their existence through faith and your own existence, but Sidra had never agreed with that thought process. She liked evidence to be clear, laid out before her, and since the beginning faith had always been just that: faith.
“Lights are not gods. Harmony, Creation, Destruction, we preach their names but bear no witness. Where in those pretty little lights do you find faith?”
“In the creation of the light itself. In the destruction as it fades into darkness against the walls. In the Harmony that blends the two together, making art of colors and the dust that floats in the air. You’ve forgotten these things with age, sold your powers of decision to the tangible things you think represent the three, but you’ve forgotten that there are things you cannot touch that are more attuned to the Trio than things like clothes or petty change could ever be.”
“Are you suggesting that I befriend politicians, kings and queens, princes and lords purely to gain possessions in exchange for good favor in the Cathedral?” Sidra’s face turned to a look of disgust at the thought.
“You disagree, and yet those are your words, not mine. Sidra, we are sisters here, we are friends, if indeed that is the corruption in your heart then let me help you to be rid of it—“
“No. We are allowed our own friends, our own possessions, if it does not sway my decisions it is not corruption, and you will not speak of it again.” In hindsight they were not the words she wanted to have spoken last to a woman who had truly been her family since coming to Sho’Cendi, but at the time it was a finite resolution to the problem, the conversation, and all remaining conflict between them.
From those words onward she led her own future.
█ ▌██ xxxxxxthe ties that bind
CONNECTIONS!! Details regarding relationships to those close to your character (friends, family members, etc.) As the story progresses and your character forms ties with others, you can begin to list those individuals here as well. ^^
█ ▌██ xxxxxxstriking the achilles heel
Bright lights often feel like the Gods pointing out her flaws, so she's not fond of them.
Fire. Where there's been fire she will never go near, it was actually her motivation in burning her Nan's house as she knew she'd never go back.
█ ▌██ xxxxxxtime to shine
Swift Tongue. She's not just a smooth talker from practice, there's a certain illusory sense to her words that compels people to take what she says to heart. People with a great deal of sense and wit about them can usually see through the veil, but those of simpler minds take it for truth.
█ ▌██ xxxxxxa few cherished gifts
LIKES and/or hobbies your character has.
█ ▌██ xxxxxxthe world could do without
Dirt. Sidra wears white all the time and usually runs around barefoot, any type of dirt makes her feel disgusting and unfit to be seen in public.
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Posted: Tue Jan 21, 2014 1:46 pm
█████████████ █ †▐ ████████xxxt h e. f i n e r. t h i n g s.xxx████████ ▌† █ █████████████ █ ▌██ xxxxxxmatters of the heart
█ ▌██ xxxxxxgetting the point across
WEAPONS!!! Describe any weapons used by your character. Remember not to god-mod.
█ ▌██ xxxxxxlast but not least
EXTRA STUFF!!! Anything else you feel we should know about your character
█ ▌██ xxxxxxlike they say
QUOTES used frequently by your character
█ ▌██ xxxxxxthe tune to life
MUSIC!!! Your character's theme song(s)
█ ▌██ xxxxxxpaint the world
Color 1: #6d7490
Color 2: #b84dd6
Color 3: #A36FCD
Color 4: #9684C8
█████████████ █ †▐ ████████xxxIGmangachickxxx████████ ▌† █ █████████████
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