by CaptainRon » Sun Jul 05, 2020 2:28 pm
I would like to adopt a new friend!
(Name and Number of the Tier 1) 137 Ysabelle
Adjective to describe them: Curious
Star Sign and/or Birthday: Scorpio, November 11th
Gender (optional): Female
Pronouns (optional): She/Her
Your Toyhou.se (link or PM me) (optional):
Additional info (optional):
Sister Agnes always commented that the night Ysabelle was born was perfect.... No, "Almost Perfect, as nothing is truely perfect, but God himself." Ysabelle loved hearing the story of how the nun was walking along on the uncharactaristically warm evening, looking up at the "almost perfect" stars when she heard two girls giggling by the gate of the convent. The Sister went to shoo the girls away, only to find that they were pestering some poor beggar (Or at the moment, she had assumed it to be a beggar) who stood at the gate, pleading.
"Please, please," The beggar had said, and when Sister Agnes dismissed the girls and crept closer two gloved hands reached through the gate holding a mysterious bundle. "Please, take my daugher, she can't..." The beggars face was covered, but she could hear the pain in his voice. "She can't become like me."
"What did my father mean? I can't become like him?" Ysabelle had often asked, but Sister Agnes never told her. She never told her that she had asked the same question, as she tenderly took the baby from the man she called a beggar, and she never told her of the answer she recieved when the beggar removed his gloves to reveal two skeletal hands.
"Let us pray, you never have to know." Sister Agnes would respond. "He said the holy ground would protect you, so as long as you stay here at the convent, you will be safe."
Of course, telling this to a child was a bad idea, for no sooner did she know that leaving the convent was forbidden, did Ysabelle begin plotting to leave. One night she managed to make it to the gate without anyone noticing, and not thinking much of it, she stuck her hand through the gate, reaching as far as she could. The second her hand was through, something horrifying began to happen, the flesh on her arm began to rot and bubble, melting away, leaving only her bones.
She screamed, as was naturally for a child of her age, and Sister Agnes came running. Sister agnes was able to discretely help her bandage the hand, and they both prayed her skin would grow back, but it never did. Worse, the smell of rotting flesh never went away. Ysabelle began frequently wearing flowers to mask the smell of death that encompased her.
As she grew older, it got harder and harder to eschew the curiosity of others about why she ALWAYS had a bandaged arm.
"Surely, it's healed by now," A friend once teased her, and sick of keeping the secret Ysabelle, decided to unwrap her arm and sho her skeletal arm to her friend. The friend turned out not to be a very good friend, as they immediately went to the high priest in charge of the convent and told him that Ysabelle, whom they had always asumed to be an angle because of her wings, was a devil in disguise, and the priest ordered her be evicted from the premise.
"Please please," Ysabelle, unkowningly plead the same as her father once had, "I can't leave the convent." But the priest would hear none of her please, her forced her to the gate that marked the edge of her sanctuary and pushed her through it. Within moments, the skin began to peel from her beautiful face, the feathers fell from her elegant wings, and she was nothing more than a skeletal figure. She could hear the screams of all the girls she had grown up with. She could see Sister Agnes's tears, and she could feel the Holy water that the priests threw at her. That was her last memory of her childhood home.