MAYAKOVA, irina mikhailovna

[IRINA ♥ MAYAKOVA]

JE SUIS FOLLE DE TOI♥

* *C'EST TOI QU'A COMMENCÉ

N A M E* *
irina mikhailovna mayakova

N I C K N A M E S* *
misha, ira, but most will won’t dare to be fond with her

A G E* *
she knows the age of twenty-five

G E N D E R* *
female

O R I E N T A T I O N* *
heterosexual

S P E C I E S* *
angel

P O W E R S & A B I L I T I E S* *
once an archangel, irina’s powers are not what they were. she has large, white, wispy
and draping wings that look ashen in the light as if they had burned with these she is
able to fly. her most defined power is the deadly ability to numb the senses allowing
her to kill her enemies without much effort.

* *FOU ET TELLEMENT ÉVIDENT

O C C U P A T I O N* *
captain of the st. gabriel guard

C L A S S Y E A R* *
not applicable

* *QUE VEUX-TU

L I K E S* *

• silence
  
• peace
  
• jonathan’s company
  
• fighting
  
• flying
  
• light
  
• water
  
• music
  

D I S L I K E S* *

• weakness
  
• arrogance
  
• vodka
  
• intrusions
  
• unnecessary obnoxiousness, which seems to happen a lot with teenagers
  
• cold, the weather rather than the state of attitude
  
• too much makeup
  
• fire
  

S T R E N G T H S* *

• illusion powers
  
• decisiveness
  
• lack of compassion
  

W E A K N E S S E S* *

• chocolate
  
• the vulnerability of her wings
  
• very soft towards small children
  

* *JE VEUX TE VOIR

M O T H E R* *
``none
``renata asaelovna mayakova – adoptive mother

F A T H E R* *
``the almighty one
``mikhail grigoryevich mayakov – adoptive father

S I B L I N G S* *
the children of the divine are all her siblings

S P O U S E* *
none

C H I L D R E N* *
some of the angels on earth may be hers, but there are none she can remember

O T H E R* *
none

H I S T O R Y* *
how does one tell a story that cannot be remembered. what tales remain from that which has been wiped from history and the bright pages of the mind. there is no record of what I was, what I am and what is. no scripture, nor mortal eye could ever witness the glory that shrouded my shoulders like the rosy raiment of dawn. I was once the left hand of god, presiding over seraphim, cherubim and paradise. power ran through my veins and I was the punisher for all that which was unholy. I caused wars among the nephilim and death to the children of fornicators. I birthed revelation to the believers and brought swift death upon the martyrs. i witnessed the fall and rise of mortals, the waves which washed away their very existence and the survival of those that were chosen. I witnessed the dreams of empires and became that which crumbled them and brought them to ruin. though I am not the beginning nor the end, I came from he that created all. I am the brother of Lucifer who wept when he fell, but fought when he created his own legion. I am, was and forever will be an archangel…

for a timeless time I lived in heaven, graced by the love of God and the power that he bestowed upon me. I did everything that was asked of me. no matter the cost to humanity or the size of the legion of demons I was to slaughter I answered to him and him alone. I kept my brother from the gates of heaven and when he reared the demons from hell I fought him and all he had created. I was a messenger to the many humans who needed the guidance of the lord and I was a warrior, an instigator to the demise of many mortals. yes, I was powerful and mighty, but yes even the mighty may fall. all was lost when my brother betrayed me. he who carries the hope for the lost and the light for humanity and it’s wretchedness. michael. how I underestimated him and his faith in mortals. he and I fought and though I won one meager battle, humanity won the war for him. they proved their might and their will to live, their faith in God when God lay his worst wrath upon him.

defeated, I was cast from heaven, only to return when I proved worthy. even in all his mercy and grace, he was the one to deliver the blow that cast me from the gates. I plummeted without fight and will to go on. to the embrace of my brother, the one who had born all light and grace of God before I. to Lucifer I would go, but as the fire of descent tore at my wings and burned at my anger God decreed that it would not be. my fate was resigned to the punishment that he had dealt. on me was bestowed the curse of amnesia wiping forever the history of my life from me so that in my mortal life I could not lie and could not show anything, but my own true nature. if I am to return, my memory must come, but as it is and as it was my memory is gone and down to earth I must go. mercy from my brother and father came in the gifts that they allowed me to keep, immortality to live out my exile, illusions to aid in my demise or my ascension and my wings to allow my dignity to remain.

“Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.” John Milton, Paradise Lost

winter had ravaged st. petersburg leaving a bitter bareness in her wake. her nasty and compassionless appearance was a common occurrence in russia. for those who had never experienced a russian winter, they would never see a day past one without the aid of her citizens. modern day brought no relief to the cold if one was not wealthy. the bite of winter tore at the skin and cooled the heat of the fire. within the house one was still bundled in layers of furs and clothes. it was not so for the wealthy. those who could afford a proper home with heating saw no bitterness in winter. as it was for the mayakovs, their family hardly noticed winter’s arrival.

misha, as his wife fondly called him, was a politician with an illustrious military background. the house which warmed their souls and brought contentment to their life was simply a speck in the numerous properties that the family owned. even his wife, the beautiful and charming renata, could have lived in the lap of luxury without her job. her occupation with clothes, design and fittings for the wealthy was merely a hobby which misha entertained. he felt that it was the only way to keep her mind off the fact that they bore no children. for years they had tried, but it was not in the divine plan for them.

there was no real explanation for what happened that fateful morning. in a series of unexplainable events, the mayakovs would receive the child that they had so longed for. it began with a nun who made her morning trek to a church in st. petersburg where she faithfully committed herself to work. she owned no vehicle and chose the public transport which would take her from the nunnery to the cathedral. that day she stood out in the cold wondering if perhaps the driver had awoken late this morning, but as was the case in cold places the vehicle had broken down from frozen parts during the night. with the church only a few miles away she chose to walk and with steady steps she traversed the city in search of the warmth and generosity of the cathedral. before she had ever made it to God’s place of worship, beside the road was a body. thinking murder she screamed, but the sound startled the girl that lay in the snow.

naked and pale from the cold, the girl whimpered and shivered. she was a pitiful sight. her fair almost platinum hair was covered in soot and her body looked as though she had been dumped into a fireplace. sister katerina removed her outermost jacket and wrapped the child in it. carefully she lifted the girl into her arms and carried her to the nearest place to ask for help. it so happened that the place which opened their doors to nun and girl belonged to the help that kept the mayakov’s house. they took them both in explaining that they had to go to work, but that they were sure that the wealthy family would nurse the girl back to health and find her parents. reluctant to let the girl go, sister katja released her knowing the family would do her greater benefit than the nun.

the maid dressed the girl in another coat, cleaning her face lightly with a cloth and wrapping her hair in a simple hat before taking her to Renata. the mayakovs made fast work of taking care of the girl. the personal physician was called, renata made quick work to make the girl some suitable clothes, misha called upon connections to see if the girl was sought after and the maids made busy with food to fill her empty stomach. when she had come to, young and bright eyed, she had no memory of who she was and who she belonged to. advised to take her to the orphanage, Renata displayed defiance instead. for the woman, barred from having her own, this was a sign from God.

so it was that the mayakovs kept the girl of maybe only ten or twelve and called her their own. they named her Irina, the name they coveted for their first child who never came. she grew in their lap of luxury and wanting for nothing else in life. day after day was different. many were spent making dresses with mother and going to galas and parties to entertain her mother’s boredom and the rest were spent firing guns with her father and learning the tricks and trade of the military. when it seemed time for her to attend school they allowed her to, but she seemed reluctant to do so. instead against her mother’s wishes young Irina joined the russian military, living up to the power and stature of her father.

she rose in the ranks and to others it was a miracle, but to some it arose suspicion. little did they know that she had discovered a power within her hands that toppled men at her feet. she owed her victory to some unknown force, some unknown grace and power she had known in a life outside of this one. her reputation garnered much attention, but none as interesting to her as that of jonathan reinhardt’s. the young mercenary wore a reputation of his own and to him she was drawn like a magnet. it wasn’t romance or the kind of pull a woman has towards a man, it was much more powerful than that. they shared a common bond his ability to create pain and her ability to take it away made them formidable enemies, but together they were almost invincible.

wanting nothing more than to seek the thrill of punishing the weak and killing the wretched, she followed him and took post as captain when he asked for her aid. the holy cross was an organization full of idiots who couldn’t tell the enemy from a friend. it’s little hierarchy and common bond was polluted and weak. while john is in it for the fun of the kill, irina wants nothing more than to incite a break in the ranks and mutiny within and then exterminate them to watch them fall. some unexplainable lust burned within her breast. there could be no order in the world if there were pieces that didn’t belong causing chaos and somewhere in the depths of her memory she knew it was her who had to rid the world of those misshapen pieces.

* *C'EST EN QUELQUE SORTE JUSTICE

RP Sample»

There is no sympathy for the cursed. Persecution comes from every corner and each smiling face only sympathizes the mark that makes you different. Happy citizens don’t wait a minute to persecute you into the darkest corners of the Earth. To them, the curse can be transferred by skin to skin contact or lip to lip lover’s kiss, but the curse is hereditary not a virus. Only we know that, but no irrational thinking man will stop to see the truth. We with curses should pity those without. For without a curse, the world still marks you with the stigma of stereotypes and bitter prejudice.

Athenadora laid back onto the stone floor of her ivory tower staring up at the millions of leaves upon the great branches of an old weeping willow painted onto the ceiling. She had been there almost all of the night trying to let go of the headache of a courtship she had with Marcus. There was the great problem of pretending they weren’t cursed. No daylight, sunlight or even the dim light of a church would grace them. No weddings bells or parties were in their favor. Creatures bound by the damned existence of the night they would never be allowed to love one another in peace. Though they might escape the fiery deaths threatened by the mortals, they would never escape the unchanging life they lived.

So it was there, on her back, staring up at the make believe sky between the leaves that she wept the bloody tears. Loving him would be a curse upon itself. No children and always separated by the call of that damned Queen, the two of them were an impossible match. Instead she chose death, the true death that would release her. Though she seemed peaceful as she closed her eyes, the heaviness of the act she was about to commit filled the room like a poisonous gas. Closed eyes and in her mind she picture Marcus’s face. She pictured them happy hand in hand in the sunlight, dying together. They looked so happy and it was a wonder why she hadn’t asked him to sacrifice himself with her.

With her final breaths, Athenadora was closing her eyes to the sound of her heart breaking. It was a pitiful thing, suicide, she knew that, but there was nothing more she could do. The thick black lashes that rimmed her eyes laid flush against her pale skin. The cool breeze of the night caressed her skin as she reached for the stake. Fluid and quick, she shoved it through her heart silencing the pain forevermore and as she burst into flames, she was silent with the peace that released her into the world. Burning and burning until there was nothing more than ash, Athenadora was finally at rest, but the following night when Marcus awoke he’d find her gone and in her tower he’d find her act and his heart would break a thousand times until it was no more.

* *JE TE CONNAIS PAR COEUR

A L I A S* *
shelby’s the name, but shell works too :3

T I M E Z O N E* *
north american eastern time zone

C O N T A C T* *
pm meh

O T H E R C H A R A C T E R S* *
nobody yet

T O P S E C R E T C O D E* *

[* *A P R I L ♥]

accepted

d o n ' t f o r g e t t o m a k e y o u r c l a i m s

* f a c e c l a i m
* d o r m c l a i m
* e t c .
H A V E F U N !