Amorette la Rose-Noire

by **Amorette la Rose-Noire** on June 23rd, 2010, 8:26 pm

Amorette la Rose-Noire
Ashes and Roses

Basic Information

Race: Human
Age & Birthday: 26 (85th Day of Spring, 484 A.V.)
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 127

Physical Description

Physically, Amorette is not an imposing person. She stands on the taller end of average in height for human women and her frame is not muscled. She is rather curvy while still maintaining a slender frame; a modest bust tapers down into her narrow waist before curving out again to form her hips. Most would call her attractive without being devastatingly so. Her skin is as pale and clear as moonlight, a trait shared by all the members of her family. It is very fair and prone to burning in the heat of the summer sun.

Besides her skin, Amorette is a darkly featured young woman with long, relatively straight hair that is as black as a raven's feathers with matching coal-black eyes. Her eyebrows are sharp and striking, looking as if they were carefully painted upon her brow in the blackest of inks. Amorette is a woman of contrast, black and white, and goes to great lengths to keep her skin from darkening, believing that the marble-white of her skin against the ink-black of her eyes and hair make her all the more lovely.

Amorette believes in artifice. She has no qualms about altering her natural appearance to enhance her beauty. Using make-up, she often makes her face white and lines her eyes in black, often tracing an additional line beneath the lower lid to stress the shape. To make her brows darker and appear more solid and thick, Amorette uses ash to blacken the skin between hairs, making their strength even greater. Amorette is very vain.

Character Concept

Amorette is a worshipper of Rhysol, which sums up her character quite well. While not evil in the sense that she wishes to destroy everything, Amorette knows what she wants and is not afraid to kill, lie, sleep around, and steal to get there. And she enjoys chaos, being the type of woman that loves to hear the death count after wars and natural disasters and relishes the beauty in disaster. She enjoys spreading chaos herself, using lies, sex, and murder to spread unrest and laugh at the drama that ensues. She does not kill recklessly and randomly, though, it is always meticulously planned and calculated, often for personal gain.

Not caring about others, Amorette is out in life for herself alone. She worships Rhysol because he is a god that she believes aligns with her lifestyle perfectly and why not worship the being that makes possible what you do? Not to mention it could be advantageous. Amorette does not believe in love outside of loving one's own self and the love of material things. She also is not quick to trust, often considering others to be as vindictive and heartless as she is herself.

History

Amorette la Rose-Noire was born Rose Ash to a humble farmer couple named Agatha and Harold. The Ash family scraped a living as farmers and gardeners on the distant outskirts of Syliras. Mizahar is a dangerous place especially away from the relative safety of cities; where the Ash family lived was no exception. Agatha gave birth to fourteen of Harold’s children but many of them died in early infancy of some disease or other. Only three of the Ash children were to reach adulthood: Keating, Rose, and Daisy.

While many of the children died from natural causes, Rose also played a hand in the tragedy of the Ash family. Rose was a girl who knew that she was right and hated the life that Lhex had selected for her, considering herself to be far superior to such humble origins. She had no tolerance for anything that caused her irritation or prevented her pleasure. It was this quality that had lled her to murder her younger brother Heath when he was just an infant. Rose had grown so exhausted from his constant wailing that she smothered him with her hand.

It had not caused an once of remorse in her body and showed her the exhilaration that murder could give; she had power over life for she had the ability to take it away.

Rose was a girl that was quick to shy away from hard work when it presented itself; she feared the affects it would have on her body. She had seen her mother whose breasts drooped to her waist and whose skin had grown leathery from the sun. She never wanted life to be like that for her. So she did her chores, like all members of the family, but whenever a chance to slack off presented itself, she took it. It was not laziness but a case of vanity.

Her vanity finally became the demise of her twin sister Lily. Of all fourteen children, Rose and her identical sister Lily were the only twins that Agatha ever bore and it was one of Rose’s biggest curses, or so she thought. Rose hated to share; she liked her things to be hers alone and it was nearly the death of her to know that she could look at her sister as if she was looking into the mirror. Rose devised a plan to cause Lily to runaway, telling the girl that their mother blamed all the death in their family on her and she must leave.

Rose had underestimated one thing: Lily’s moral character. Lily did not think about herself but wanted to right things with her mother and instead of leaving went to go speak to Agatha. Rose could not let this happen for her lie so carefully woven would unravel in a second. She chased Lily down and stabbed her. Then Rose had to spin another tale and began to butcher her twin’s body and stabbing her own before hobbling back home. To all it seemed that Rose and Lily had been victims of road bandits and Rose was lucky to get away.

The lie had nearly cost Rose’s own life, though, for the wounds she had inflicted upon herself caused her great damage and she became very sick with fevers. For weeks she was left in this state, clinging desperately to the life she had so ruthlessly stolen from others. It was hard to believe that any god had taken pity enough on Rose’s plight to save her so she contented herself with the knowledge that she had done it herself.

While life poured back into Rose, life flowed out of her eldest surviving sister Violet like water pouring from a cracked vase. Violet had always been a sickly child prone to illness and forced to live a life in perpetual bed rest fighting one illness after another. This time, though, it seemed that even Rik’kali had hung her head in defeat and had left the door open for Dira to claim her soul. With her newfound health, Rose found it in her the energy to pull a cruel prank on her dying sister.

Dressing herself in mud, blood, and feathers ripped from fowls, Rose entered Violet’s room in the dead of night, naked and her messy hair playing the role of a mourning shroud cruelly crafted before her face. Rose planted the lie in her sister’s head that Violet was the reason all the death had come to the Ash family; that she was not actually a human but a demon sent to wreak havoc. Violet took this as truth and died the next day from fright and sickness thinking she had brought all this pain upon the ones she loved the most.

It had an unexpected effect on the family as a whole; Rose had assumed that they would just take it as the feverish ravings of a dying woman but Agatha had taken it to heart. She truly believed that Violet was a demon and had caused the death of ten of her children. The pain nearly tore her soul into two but probably she just needed a direction to point blame for all the pain she had experienced in life. Violet had been that direction. Agatha commanded the body be burned along with the bed she had died on. And, to the shock of the entire family, jumped upon the flames when they had reached the hottest and highest, burning herself alive. No Ash would ever forget her screams.

The amount of death and pain that had happened to the Ashes happened largely within a few months and the next few months were eerily silent like the lack of sound after a piercing scream. The family did not really know what to do with themselves so they just continued on though her brother Keating bore most of the work and responsibility on his shoulders. Harold, their father, often slipped into binges of depressed drinking leaving the only surviving male to pick up the slack.

Keating and Rose had always had an unusual relationship that had only grown more sinful and unnatural with every passing year. Keating was her senior by five years but their relationship was never one normal of siblings. Rose lit a fire deep within Keating’s chest, causing his gazes to linger too long and his rough hand to trace her skin lightly in places no one else touched her. That he loved her, Rose never doubted and that he offered her both pleasure and security was never unknown.

It was Rose that beat out the tempo of their relationship, allowing the intimacies to crescendo, deepen, and grow more sinful. Longing glances turned into passing touches, which developed further into full embraces followed finally by the climatic union of their two bodies. To Rose, it was carnal delight; pure ecstasy. The passion that Keating could fire in her body washed over her like waves. It was chaotic and wild and wrong and she loved it.

And Rose soon became an addict and she needed to push the limits to get the biggest thrill out of each coupling. Finally, she lured Keating into their father’s marital bed, the very same bed that Agatha and Harold and joined under the sheets to bring them into the world. It was wondrously sinful and the chance of getting caught only made it that much better. Seduced, Keating followed her lead and the two found the physical delights in one another they knew so well by this point upon the bed.

At the climax of their heated play, Harold entered the bedroom drunk; he was on top of Rose before she even had a chance to react and knocked her to the floor. While he strangled Keating, Rose ran to get a blade and together with her brother they murdered Harold their father. After the initial sensation of the kill wore off, the two turned to realize that little Daisy stood framed in the doorway, her face blank. It was either the mirror that showed the reality of the situation to Keating or it was the final straw because he left. He left and Rose never saw him again.

Keating’s leaving hurt Rose more than she cared to admit. She missed the carnal escape he offered her not to mention the security. It also struck her to the core; she thought she had such control over him and then he had left her. It was like being bitten by a pet. Her relationship with Daisy only worsened, the poor little creature. A week passed and the body of Harold was still resting on its bed of bloody sheets, rotting. Not knowing what to do and feeling a bit crazed, Rose set the house on fire one evening after putting Daisy to bed and left. She did not know if her sister lived or died in the fire and she really did not care.

~~~More to Come~~~

Skills, Lore, and Knowledge

Stiletto Blade 32/100