"It is not Death that will come to fetch me, it is the good God.
"That's bull, by the way. It was Death. God just waits on the other side."
✦ Name: Sister Catherine (Claire Armand)
"Sister", "Catherine", and even "Kathy" all work. Never Claire, though.
✦ Age: ???
✦ Age (Appearance): 30
✦ Gender: Female
✦ Time in Service: Never gives an exact number, but most think it to be over 200.
✦ Weapon: Scythe
✦ Magic Branch: Enchantment
✦ Spells:
✧ Risus Spoken
Selecting a target in her line of sight, Catherine causes this person to be overcome with violent laughter for a period not exceeding 90 seconds. It certainly hurts, but little damage is done to them besides temporary incapacitation and exhaustion.
✧ Sisto Spoken
This spell is perhaps the most versatile in her book, and for good measure. Catherine selects up to three people in her line of sight to be magically bound, unable to move for up to five minutes. Being harmed interrupts the spell, but it's very good for capture missions.
✧ Imperatum Spoken
Once the target is under this spell (as long as they can hear her, this time), Catherine can issue a single command to her target that they will be magically compelled to follow. Of course, these commands exclude things like harming themselves or harming someone close to them. The spell can be resisted by those with a very strong will.
✧ Saltare Spoken
An area of effect spell applied across a 15 feet dome of people. Anyone caught within the range of Saltare is magically compelled to dance uncontrollably for up to ten minutes, unable to move from their location or to attack (magically or otherwise) others.
Selecting a target in her line of sight, Catherine causes this person to be overcome with violent laughter for a period not exceeding 90 seconds. It certainly hurts, but little damage is done to them besides temporary incapacitation and exhaustion.
✧ Sisto Spoken
This spell is perhaps the most versatile in her book, and for good measure. Catherine selects up to three people in her line of sight to be magically bound, unable to move for up to five minutes. Being harmed interrupts the spell, but it's very good for capture missions.
✧ Imperatum Spoken
Once the target is under this spell (as long as they can hear her, this time), Catherine can issue a single command to her target that they will be magically compelled to follow. Of course, these commands exclude things like harming themselves or harming someone close to them. The spell can be resisted by those with a very strong will.
✧ Saltare Spoken
An area of effect spell applied across a 15 feet dome of people. Anyone caught within the range of Saltare is magically compelled to dance uncontrollably for up to ten minutes, unable to move from their location or to attack (magically or otherwise) others.
✦ Texty Stuff:
The jeers and screams rang in Catherine’s ears as she knelt on the ground before the Mother Superior. Her heart beat like a rabbit’s in her chest, her hands bound with rope before her. Was this really happening? She raised her head to meet those of the older woman before her, trying her best not to sob. She would go to her death composed, as she was only moments away from meeting God. She kissed the little statue the older woman was holding. “Mother,” she said. “May I die?”
“Permission granted,” she said, and Catherine found herself rising, climbing the scaffolding towards the guillotine. Her sisters held onto her arms as she climbed, pushing her up, up, up, but all she felt was a spreading numbness. Her breath hitched. She felt the urge to adjust her habit, an awful nervous habit of hers, but her hands were tied before her and she could not raise them. To keep herself from crying, she began to pray, a quiet litany. Then, the executioner’s hands were upon her, gently pushing her onto the board. The crowd below had gone quiet. She knew they would be cheering soon.
The executioner said something- some apology, she supposed- slid her in, and then… she was calm, as she stared up at the sky and the blade. This would be alright. It wouldn’t hurt. She was the first of them to die, a mercy, and she would meet God with her sisters in moments. It would be alright.
The blade fell.
She opened her eyes in a place very much unlike where she had been before.
Catherine was standing atop a hill, underneath a beautiful arch, before a spring. A city unfolded beyond the hill. Her blue-gray eyes settled upon it for a moment, thoughtless but for a small smile spreading across her face. Heaven. This was heaven. It didn’t look much like she had thought heaven would, but mortals could so rarely predict the whims of the Lord. He had seen it fit to bless her with eternity in paradise. Overcome, Catherine dropped to her knees, chanting out prayers in Latin. “Oh, Glory be to God…” She murmured for perhaps a full minute, finally opening her eyes when she realized no one was there with her. It was silent. Her sisters had not arrived yet.
Puzzled, she approached the arch, watching. Waiting. Was there not supposed to be someone here, she thought? To count her sins, to admit her to heaven? After a few more minutes of waiting, Catherine determined with some measure of confusion that they were not coming. Why were they not here? With a wide-eyed look on her face, she took a seat on a bench, smoothing out the skirts of her habit. Someone would come.
An hour later, someone did. A person came walking up the hill, and Catherine rose to greet them. This must be the saint. Perhaps he was… late. It was bizarre to think of a saint as being late, but she’d accept it. “Bonjour,” she said, and the man looked at her in confusion. “Are you… are you God?” she asked, tentatively.
The man raised a brow. “I wish I was God,” he remarked. “Then I wouldn’t have to fucking go down there and do this shit all the time. Goddamn.”
Catherine blinked, confused. “Where-where is God?”
“That’s a hell of a theological question, honey.”
“Well, I’m in heaven. Where is He?”
It took the man- disheveled, in his mid-40s- a moment to process. “Ohhh. You’re new. Honey, welcome to Decibitus. Not heaven,” he said, snorting, and then walked away towards the gate.
Decibitus. Catherine spoke enough Latin to know that word. It meant deceived. She stood there dumbly, not understanding. Where else would she be if not in heaven?
… What was this place?
“Permission granted,” she said, and Catherine found herself rising, climbing the scaffolding towards the guillotine. Her sisters held onto her arms as she climbed, pushing her up, up, up, but all she felt was a spreading numbness. Her breath hitched. She felt the urge to adjust her habit, an awful nervous habit of hers, but her hands were tied before her and she could not raise them. To keep herself from crying, she began to pray, a quiet litany. Then, the executioner’s hands were upon her, gently pushing her onto the board. The crowd below had gone quiet. She knew they would be cheering soon.
The executioner said something- some apology, she supposed- slid her in, and then… she was calm, as she stared up at the sky and the blade. This would be alright. It wouldn’t hurt. She was the first of them to die, a mercy, and she would meet God with her sisters in moments. It would be alright.
The blade fell.
She opened her eyes in a place very much unlike where she had been before.
Catherine was standing atop a hill, underneath a beautiful arch, before a spring. A city unfolded beyond the hill. Her blue-gray eyes settled upon it for a moment, thoughtless but for a small smile spreading across her face. Heaven. This was heaven. It didn’t look much like she had thought heaven would, but mortals could so rarely predict the whims of the Lord. He had seen it fit to bless her with eternity in paradise. Overcome, Catherine dropped to her knees, chanting out prayers in Latin. “Oh, Glory be to God…” She murmured for perhaps a full minute, finally opening her eyes when she realized no one was there with her. It was silent. Her sisters had not arrived yet.
Puzzled, she approached the arch, watching. Waiting. Was there not supposed to be someone here, she thought? To count her sins, to admit her to heaven? After a few more minutes of waiting, Catherine determined with some measure of confusion that they were not coming. Why were they not here? With a wide-eyed look on her face, she took a seat on a bench, smoothing out the skirts of her habit. Someone would come.
An hour later, someone did. A person came walking up the hill, and Catherine rose to greet them. This must be the saint. Perhaps he was… late. It was bizarre to think of a saint as being late, but she’d accept it. “Bonjour,” she said, and the man looked at her in confusion. “Are you… are you God?” she asked, tentatively.
The man raised a brow. “I wish I was God,” he remarked. “Then I wouldn’t have to fucking go down there and do this shit all the time. Goddamn.”
Catherine blinked, confused. “Where-where is God?”
“That’s a hell of a theological question, honey.”
“Well, I’m in heaven. Where is He?”
It took the man- disheveled, in his mid-40s- a moment to process. “Ohhh. You’re new. Honey, welcome to Decibitus. Not heaven,” he said, snorting, and then walked away towards the gate.
Decibitus. Catherine spoke enough Latin to know that word. It meant deceived. She stood there dumbly, not understanding. Where else would she be if not in heaven?
… What was this place?
✦ Miscellaneous:
✧ Color code is #deb887.
@PapiTan Here are the updates!
