Post by LabRat on Aug 17, 2019 18:57:47 GMT -6
When Taya found the small child abandoned on the doorstep of her fifth wheel, she was convinced that the babe was Ruska Roma, and so she took her in and shared her home that was a famous traveling Gypsy circus. She named the girl Nadya and gave her last name of the original owner, a descendant from a long line of Gypsies originating from England, though it had been several generations since they immigrated over to Russia. Nadya had always been headstrong and obstinate for a child. She liked to make her own path, and would frequently squeeze herself into small spaces in order to hide or escape. The only person that could reason with her was the aging Taya, whom Nadya simply called Baba. It was Baba who realized that she needed a purpose to focus her energy, and seeing that she had some innate talent, convinced the circus manager to give Nadya her own act. And so she began to train. She was tall for a contortionist, usually the profession attracted ones who were petit and compact, but her lithe frame and long limbs allowed her to move in a way that was mesmerizing. With hair that was as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes that sparkled like obsidian stones in the bottom of a deep pool, she looked ethereal and otherworldly when she performed. The Ringmaster quickly spun up a story about how she came from a union between a handsome traveling Rom and a lovely Vila and thus The Lady of Blackwater was born.
Relishing in the few moments where her head is quiet, Nadya took advantage of her warm muscles and moved beyond what most people thought was possible, showing off her years of honing her craft. Stretching after a long cardio session and weight training was her favorite part of the day. She relished in the pull of sinew and limbs. She felt good this way, and judging from conflicted looks of both murder and envy from the other female patrons, she looked damn good too. Her eyes roamed while she breathed smooth and slow and locked eyes with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Yummy: Mr. 13 reps at 320 every Tuesdays and Thursdays. Nadya was no stranger to that look; predatory and full of promise. She arched her brow and issued an unspoken challenge of who was really preying on whom before she saw a flicker of doubt and hesitation in his eyes. She gave a small shake of her head before she adjusted positions and turned away from him. Scurry home, little mouse, She thought. She already knew how that story would play out and quite frankly she was bored of it.
Of course there were a few others, ones that left a lasting impression and held her interest. Adrian, Paulo, Jake --no, Jace, that was it, Charles… Nadya winced internally as a mental vice clamped down in her mind banishing all thoughts about that man. Nope, not going to go there. She shivered involuntarily, blaming it on the sweat cooling her skin, as she got up and skipped off the mat. Tossing her towel in the dirty hamper, she grabbed her bag and made her way out of the gym and into blinding daylight....and almost right into a man wearing a sign board that loudly proclaimed that “The End is Nigh!”. She issued a lame apology that was immediately drowned out in the man’s proclamations that we were to repent as the mercy of the Lord compels us.
Nadya paid him no mind except to issue a derisive snort. Evangelicals, as if their very name was enough of an admonishment. And it wasn’t because she was Catholic. Right now she was fed up of any sort of religion at all, Lord Almighty or no. If that ridiculous Holy Order of the Stave hadn’t come to her claiming they had information on her parents, she would have just been fine. But Nadya was young and dumb and wanted to belong to someone instead of a circus, so she left and started work as an apprentice. What they did was mold her into one that could never be kept out by a lock or door and she fully believed she was doing good and hurting evil by carrying out their assignments. Now why they wanted her to break into Holy temples from all over the world and steak priceless manuscripts was anyone’s guess, but Nadya was convinced the was on the side of the righteous.
Nadya slipped her key card in the hotel where she was staying. She stripped off her gym clothes and plopped them unceremoniously on the floor while she turned on the shower. Soon steam enveloped the small bathroom as she carefully slipped off the gold chain that looped around a single tarnished brass key from her neck and placed it carefully by the sink. She sudsed her hair a bit too harshly as if she was scraping away the memories as her nails bit into her scalp.
She made the mistake of asking too many questions. Though she was ever faithful to the order, they didn’t keep their promise, and she soon started asking questions about the whereabouts of her parents only to receive half-truths and non-answers. She started doing her own research on the items she took for The Order’s safe keeping and protection, and soon she fell down a very deep, and very dark rabbit hole of whatthefuckery. To sum it up, The Holy Order of the Stave was convinced that they came from a long line of vampire slayers. Those manuscripts apparently related to the history of those said killings and how God ordained their ongoing battle between good and evil.
To be fair the questions were justified and she was pissed. How did Vampires and her missing parents fit together with the order, and how were they not all committed to an insane asylum?!? Feeling angry and betrayed she made plans during her last heist to get out, but they wanted to be the ones to take care of the problem...and she was the problem. They set her up by way of an anonymous tip. Fortunately for her, when the authorities were there to arrest her, instead of incarcerating her, they gave her a job...off the books, and thus began her third stint of being everybody’s lap dog instead of her own person.
Speak of the devil. Nadya swore under her breath when she heard her phone go off in the main living space. Saying a silent apology to Baba, she quickly got out, toweled off and glanced at the missed call number, or rather lack of a number. UNLISTED flashed across her screen Heaving a sigh that ended on a groan, she quickly got dressed in street clothes, grabbed her passport and her little black duffle bag that all good thieves are known to cary, and headed out the door. It would appear that The Lady of Blackwater was to make another one night appearance.
-Girl was an orphan
-Girl was raised by Gypsies who ran a traveling circus, taught her to be a contortionist and adopted the stage name The Lady of Blackwater
-Girl was seduced away by the Holy Order of the Stave, who claimed they had information regarding her parents. Trained her to infiltrate other holy places to retrieve information in the form of priceless relics and manuscripts.
-Girl starts to question exactly what side of “good” she is on and does her own research on the manuscripts
-Girl realizes that Holy Order is batshit insane who believes they are a long line of descendants ordained by God to protect the innocent from vampires
-Girl tries to leave but gets set up by the Holy Order, authorities start to give her jobs off the book for the price of her freedom
-Girl gets a call to an undisclosed location which is the catalyst for this campaign
Symbol: The key that fits the very first lock she picked worn as a necklace to remind her that no lock or door can keep her out
Solace: Nadya’s Baba, the grandmotherly person who raised her while she was at the circus, and tries to remember to call when she can.
Safety: When Russia gets too cold and too dark, Nadya can escape to her little slice of paradise when she isn't working. She has a property in Algarve, Portugal and that is where she goes to collect herself after finishing an assignment. She loves the people, the food, and the white sand beaches.
3 Trust: Giger's PC: If based on analyst. Clear cut, decisive, to the point. I know exactly where I stand with them and in a way that's a balm to my soul and the stability I crave.
1 Trust: Charles Cross: It's....complicated. But we can keep things professional and act like adults, right? Plus I am waaaayyyy hotter than that thot he's checking out, and don't need that drama in my life ::shoves three cookies in her mouth:: .
0 Trust: Dr. Felix du Bois: Total Creepo. If I die, there is a 99% chance he already has the means to part me out on the black market. Doesn't give me much hope that he would be inclined to save me if I get injured, and the idea that he could get a bitchin' car for the price of my liver kind of pisses me off.