Post by Rigby "Echo" O'Gready on May 5, 2013 5:40:43 GMT
Rigby "Echo" O'Gready
Hey, my name is... Rigby Colleen O'Gready
But most call me... Echo
If you want to, you can label me... homosexual
I've been on this earth for... 167 years
Which means I was born... February 24, 1845
I'm a... teacher
And only a... librarian
My eyes are... brown
And my hair is... brown
One could say... I'm pretty short, just above five feet tall. I'm a rather small person overall, really. I'm thin, not too muscular, and my quiet nature doesn't exactly help that. My hair is kept short in a pixie cut. I chopped it off in an act of repentance and mourning after I left the wolf pack. My nails are always painted immaculately, one of the few ways I still cling to my vanity.
I'm normally seen wearing... dresses, nice shirt/skirt combinations, sweaters. I dress nicely, but I don't put as much energy into fashion perfection as I once did.
And I supposedly look like... Winona Ryder
All round, I'm... told I come across as spooky or gloomy. I suppose that's because I am a bit gloomy. I'm quiet and thoughtful. I don't speak if I have nothing to say, but if I do, I don't hesitate to tell people exactly what I think. It's not that I'm shy - I just don't feel the need to gab incessantly like some do. The years have turned me a bit cold and calculating most of the time. I'm able to observe people like puzzles, and I'm quick to identify what's "wrong" with them. At the same time, emotions have a tendency to catch up with me suddenly and without warning. I'm prone to fits of depression. Unlike most sirens, my vanity has mostly been replaced with guilt and self-loathing.
I'm in love with... books, Gaelic music, playing piano, the sea, breathtaking scenery and art
Though I detest... myself most days, manipulation, fake people, cruelty, talk of the war, complaints, loud or brash people
But my best assets are... my thoughtful good judgement, my knowledge of culture and particularly literature, my voice when I actually use it
However my worst... my unstable emotions, my antisocial behavior, my instinct to resent others
And I dream of... living to forget the wrongs I've committed.
My life story... I was born in Ennistimon, Ireland just before the start of the Great Famine. For the first sixteen years of my life, I was the youngest child in a family of five, quite small for an Irish family then. I suspect the only reason my mother stopped after me was that we were all so hungry most of the time my mother couldn't possibly have sustained another pregnancy. When we were desperate, one of my parents or sisters might use their powers to steal food from others in town, but sometimes there wasn't even anything to steal. In any case, I was also taught to use my persuasive powers at a rather young age, just so I could survive. My mother told me I had a natural talent with my voice.
At this point, the sirens weren't particularly involved in the war, but we were aware of it. By the time I was sixteen, both of my sisters had been married off. One night, a stranger came to our door - a werewolf. He sniffed and smiled at my mother, telling her that he could tell she was with child. It was the first my father or I had heard of it, but she confirmed that the wolf was right. "That child can't live without food," he'd told her. "I have money, enough that you could feed yourselves and your new child for years to come. In exchange, though, I want to take your daughter with me to help my pack." My parents refused at first, but I couldn't bear the guilt of allowing my baby sibling to perish. I went with the wolf.
This next part of my story spans the majority of my life. The wolves brought me to England where they were struggling in the war. They made me train with my powers for weeks on end, barely allowing me to sleep, until I was able to compel even the stubbornest soldiers. And then they gave me my job within the pack - prison guard, interrogator and executioner.
My duties included compelling prisoners to be passive in captivity and to draw information from them. I provided the wolves with more intelligence than they had ever been able to attain through brute force and torture. When prisoners had outstayed their usefulness, I compelled them to kill themselves.
I had convinced myself early on in these years that I had no choice in the matter. This was simply the way my life was, and I had to do what my masters told me. I was, after all, essentially their slave. Looking back, however, it's easy to identify that I had grown comfortable with my life there, and numb to the suffering I caused. I had become a monster.
It all changed in one night. The pack woke me well past midnight and brought me to a soul fae, bloodied and tied to a chair. They told me to get the location of the faerie's friends. I got the information bit by bit, but the faerie wept the whole time. She asked me if I didn't pity her, if I didn't feel remorse for my actions. As I finished my interrogation, her teary eyes gazed up at me, and suddenly I felt the terror and despair I had caused her. I fell to my knees at once and began to sob, to beg her forgiveness. All at once, I realized what I had become, what I had done. And despite everything, the faerie offered me comfort.
"If you take the last of my information, many of my friends will die," she told me. "I know if you don't make me tell, the wolves will. Please, you know what has to happen here. It will be easier if you tell me to."
I untied her hands and handed her the long knife I had offered to so many before her. My voice still tearful, I sang to her "Take the knife, slit your throat."
I escaped from the pack soon after that and lived in solitude. I vowed never to use my song to bring any sort of harm to anyone ever again. I spent nearly two decades living in hiding in a convent in Sienna, Italy, where I sought to atone for my sins through public works. While there, I discovered a love of literature and the escape it offered me. In my spare time, I studied any culture I could, spending a year studying art and music in Rome.
After the war ended, I felt it was finally safe to return to England. I had served humans for eighteen years, and it was time to help the magical races heal wounds I had helped to create.
I was born to... Colleen and Padraig O'Gready
And also live with... Sorcha, Nuala and Eimear
Not to mention... Cliona, my dove
My ooc name is... Joohlia[/color][/blockquote]
And I've been roleplaying... since before it was mainstream
The Secret Word is... PASSWORD ACCEPTED
