Nightingale, Isra

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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Isra Nightingale
Nightingale, Isra
POSTED ON Dec 26, 2019 5:16:33 GMT
Isra Nightingale Avatar
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[attr="class","freiwanttop1"]- □ x

LOVE ME LIKE AN ENEMY

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nameisra nightingale
pronounsshe/her
agetwenty four
orientationheterosexual
played byendless

[attr="class","freiwantmid"]CHARACTER FACTION team rocket

[attr="class","freiwantmid"]CHARACTER RANK grunt unless canon

[attr="class","freiwantmid"]FACE CLAIM oichi from sengoku basara

[attr="class","freiwanttop"]I KNOW THAT YOU'LL NEVER STOP

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It settles in your skin, in your bones, in your blood.

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Darkness seeps into you, from you, corrupts you with its touch and you breath easy beneath its oppressive embrace.
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The sun is no friend to you

And that makes you chosen, special, significant, eyes of red have been laid on you and claimed you o' child of the darkness. Sun cursed and blessed in his holy name to mark his place, to seek his presence and divine rage within this wretched and unholy world. You bleed and are purified so you might accept him when he rises, you break and remake yourself so that you might be worthy of carrying out his judgement, you breath and the darkness breaths within you.
[break][break]
with you

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You seek it out in that holy place between here and now, then and there, where all the worlds are everything and nothing and there is only the eternity you wait for. You wait and you watch and the more you see the more you know this world is unholy and it is waiting with desperate ragged breaths for him to be set free, for his divine judgment to be passed, his holy rage unleashed. The world tells you this in the broken silence again.
and again

and again

and again

[break][break]


[break][break]
For just a moment.
the sun sets its eyes on you

he is gentle with his rotting kindness, he is unholy in his affirmations. he gives you light in your darkness, purpose in your heart and for but a second the world stops speaking. The darkness does not call you, does not wish for your return it lets you feel this. The warmth beneath his touch, the suffocation of an embrace and then it is
gone.

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And that. Is when. You knew.
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This world is a broken and rotting thing.
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You must bleed it dry to make it holy, destroy it to set it free.
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  • She bears her mother's last name, not her father's

  • Her mother is a former up and coming star on the competitive bracket in multiple regions mostly her home region Sinnoh who retired not long after having her first son to the head of the Ruhan household.

  • The Ruhan family is considered a household name that most don't really think about, because Ruhan Appliance's has the monopoly on household appliances in Hoenn instead of something more glamorous

  • Isra is the second eldest of 4 children, the rest being boys.

  • She is their half sister, having been sired by their uncle rather than their father (the head of the household). This is also why she is the only one of them to have the Sun allergy.

  • Their mother belongs to a small sect that worships giratina and all 4 children have quietly been raised to follow the belief from a young age, viewing him as a god of righteous anger at the world for losing its way.

  • While most are nothing more than mere followrs of the priests and holy men, those that are suncursed are believed to have been chosen by giratina to act as his vessel in the mortal plan until the day comes that he can reach it himself and undergo a much stricter upbringing to ensure they will not fail him.

  • You bleed to let go of what makes you unholy, allowing yourself to be purified, your body breaks so that you may be remade anew and worthy of him, as such combat is an important part of their lifestyle. Many of their worshipers believe that in fighting for your life and your beliefs you make yourself worthy of their god and their priests and priestesses are held to a very high standard. They must be capable of moving at any moment to enact his righteous furry upon the world with reckless abandon.

  • Assassin and body guard work is common amongst them, namely for those that are themselves corrupt as they find kindness that is not properly earned to be the greatest reason for the weakening of humanity.

  • Their upper ranks are especially well known for this in the underground, making them a common choice for their fierceness. The nightingales are especially well known for their brutality.

  • During her training to attain the title of priestess Isra believes that she encountered her soul mate, a boy who was pacifistic and very much her polar opposite but a phenomenal tactician who kept up with her on a battle field. Fearing that their bond may cause her to stray from her path a turn of events orchestrated by the priests resulted in his death. Though her view of her fellows has been soured the desired effect was achieved- she believe the world cruel and cold and worthy of whatever fury comes upon it for having taken him from her.

  • A downward spiral of epic degrees left her a common face in underground fight rings in the shadier parts of slateport, seeking something to remind her just an inkling of what she once felt before- now feeling most alive when she finds someone skilled enough to make her bleed.

  • Once reigned in by her brothers, she returned to her path as a priestess to giratina, eventually attaining the title amongst the other worshipers and seeking an outlet that was greater than assassin and half-assed work as a bodyguard

  • During the rocket invasion on Hoenn she allowed herself to be placed as 's assistant, a position she still holds as a night worker in his office, though the longer she stays there regardless of the perks that come with- the more she realizes she was not made for this.

  • Isra has since taken up residence with the new rendition of rocket, though she cannot say she completely agrees with their tactics as someone that would have greatly enjoyed the rocket of old she can admire their tenacity and so long as she feels comfortable amongst them she will linger in their ranks.







PHARAOH LEAP CREATES

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shiv
Nightingale, Isra
POSTED ON Dec 26, 2019 6:20:59 GMT
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[attr="class","TRAINER"]
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[attr="class","omacceptedtop"]WELCOME TO HOENN!

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congratulations on being accepted! ensure that you have read the site rules and view the getting started page should you require some guidance for the beginning of your journey. we hope you enjoy your stay in hoenn![break][break]


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your character will begin with 50 pokedollars & 5 pokeballs,[break]which you can add to your personal computer (PC).


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played by

Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
awards
1,346 posts
part of
TAG WITH @isra
Isra Nightingale
Nightingale, Isra
POSTED ON May 11, 2020 7:25:54 GMT
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[attr="class","leaguecardstars"]★★★★★


[attr="class","leaguecardname"]Isra Nightingale


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[attr="class","leaguecardsliptext1"]Name:

[attr="class","leaguecardsliptextright"]Isra Nightingale


[attr="class","leaguecardsliptext2"]Pronouns:

[attr="class","leaguecardsliptextright"]She/Her/hers


[attr="class","leaguecardsliptext3"]Speciality:

[attr="class","leaguecardsliptextright"]ghost, dragon





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The assistant

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There is a desk perfectly placed in an office sitting in a city that is no home on the shores of a region that is, in many ways, falling apart at the seams.
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Small somethings are scattered across its surface, little plants that are gifts kept in perfect shape as a formality. Small knickknacks and decorations that move on whims that no one seems quite sure of the cause for. They shift as often as the wind shifts sand across the shore. Dainty fingers flutter across the smooth surface of the workplace with a familiarity that can only come from too many nights spent upon it.
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Horrors drift across the screen, float up from the papers that shuffle across the desk and beyond the clacking of keys. Mingling in between these damning notions is the sickening sweetness of a lullaby as old as time. Older perhaps, if one is to believe the stories of where it came from, should they know them.
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Fernando Silph's assistant works through the night, violet eyes and ebony hair settling on shoulders filled with a steady calmness. Silence settles on her in the dark as if nothing in the world could bother her.
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The Nightingale

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There is a storm in the air, vibrating on the wind, carrying the smell of rain with it as it passes through the night. A familiar thing to many, a favorite of her own. It is here in the dark of a stormy night that one can say the Nightingale feels most at home. Her heels click against the rooftop as she treads towards her mark. It is a simple task, almost unworthy of her but they ask it and she answers nonetheless.
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She wonders still, as she makes her way down the old fire escape with a purpose, her prey soon realizing he's being hunted by something that should most certainly alarm him. Is this worth it? Will it give her what she seeks?
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It is hard to say as the shadows reach from beneath her, as if they are of her, seeking out the man across the ground with a single terrifying goal. Ghostly fingers curl around his ankles, chill him to the bone, pulling him from upright to flat against the concrete of the city.
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The nightingale says nothing as the ghost at her heels cackles behind her, the pokemon toys as much as she. They will not let him go until they are done with him.
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If there is a scream she does not hear it through the falling rain, eyes already turned towards the sky.
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The priestess

[break]
In all of Lilycove, no place carries the same view this place does. A small little outcrop that can only be reached if you know the right cavern on the beach to tread through to find it. Wide open, it faces the ocean and the moon above.
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She does not pray like she should, forgoing all the things she is meant to do and meant to be in the name of seeking something else entirely within her faith. Whatever it may bring her it may come regardless of what she does to summon it, her fate was chosen as soon as she was born. Denial is not an option, so what does it matter if she follows the rules or not?
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Her back is already against the cold ground, watching the star sea awaken in the night. Watching as his world lights up for her as it always does. Waiting to see what it might say, what the constellations might tell her before the night is over.
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There is silence everywhere but her mind, sprawling thoughts guiding her through the decimation of a world, the destruction of beings that belong nowhere near them, beyond the mortal world they know, much like her, seeing a dream within a dream and seeking the waking truth that lies somewhere in the spaces in between.
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Silence is broken by old words, spoken by her more times than she cares to know. Spoken by the one that came before her, before them, before any of them existed upon this place. Words older than time, words as old as their god.
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It is the crashing of the waves that sets her free, it is the call of the stars that guides her home.



The poison in the Tree
[break]
She stares at the caramels on the counter. Amelia insists on putting them there because she knows that they are her favorites. And she knows that the dark haired woman she is employed by wouldn't dare touch them anyway.
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Fingernails tap the counter top, the tenseness in her shoulders reads agitation. As though it annoys her that they are there but anyone that knows her well (and none but Amelia and her brothers do) knows that's not why.
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The candy makes her happy, it is one of her favorite things. It speaks of a broken childhood. It speaks of a self she is not supposed to be. It speaks of small happy things that she is not allowed to have.
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Tonight she reaches for the candy anyway. Tonight she thinks of all her favorite things as the candy touches her tongue. She thinks about the sound of piano keys and clashing metal, the song of battle and the lullabies that flit from her lips when no one is there to hear them. She thinks of the stars above and the way rain feels against her skin when she watches the clouds pass by. She thinks of the scent of the ocean breeze.
[break][break]
And then she smiles, because lastly she thinks of something entirely her's. It could not possibly belong to anyone else. Not the assistant that sits at a desk all night, not the nightingale who has passed all the tests and claimed the ultimate prize. Not the priestess who has sworn away her blade in the name of something else, no, this belongs to her.
[break][break]
She smiles because she thinks, that handsome face, those grey blue eyes, that name on the tip of her tongue-[break]
Remiel Calcifet might just be[break]one of her favorite things.



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[attr="class","leaguecardbigname"]Isra Nightingale


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