do you feel like a young god @arielabernathy-blog - Tumblr Blog

donovan-westbrooks:

”Excuse me.” The boy mumbled as he rubbed his hand through his hair, “Have you seen a camera lying around?”

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t—answer my question, and I’ll tell you which one it is,” Ariel mused, a coy grin itching across her lips as she waited with raised eyebrows.

#char: the tagalong #she'll make him cry tbh #my lil manipulative babe

windgaprp-blog

arielabernathy-blog

“My girlishness has sharp teeth.” (x)

Name: Ariel Abigail Abernathy

Age: Eighteen

Gender Identity: Cis Female / She/Her

Faceclaim Suggestion: Freya Mavor

Known in Wind Gap as: The Shepherdess

STRENGTH VS. WEAKNESS;

+ Ambitious, Charming, Cunning, Virtuous

- Hypocritical, Intolerant, Manipulative, Merciless

GET TO KNOW THEM;

First and foremost, Ariel is a hypocrite—but she would never admit it. In her eyes, she is an angel cast upon the Earth to do God’s great work, which, as any devout Catholic who goes the extra mile knows, can sometimes involve getting a little dirty. After all, if being sinful meant helping bring sinners closer to the light of the Lord, the sin counteracts itself—or, at least that’s what Ariel likes to tell herself.

Originally, there were supposed to be three little creations running about, as Mrs. Abernathy had become pregnant with triplets. However, a bit further into the pregnancy, it was discovered that little Ariel had eaten the unnamed child (as fetuses are living children according to the Lord) in the womb, consuming him and leaving the family with twins instead.

Both of her names are straight out of the Bible, as her parents could not think of a better way to praise the Lord and his work than to name their children in His honor. Ariel means “Lion of God”, which turned out to be quite fitting for the girl who has dedicated her life to praising Him and His glory. Abigail, her middle name, means “my Father is joy” or “Father’s rejoice”, which she and her parents both like to think is the case—after all, how could He be anything but joyous for what the preacher’s daughter has accomplished?

Although the first born son is often heralded as the heir of the family, Ariel was born seven minutes and twenty one seconds before her twin brother, making her technically the eldest child.

As a child, Ariel used to help out at the local Hell House that came around every now and then, once her parents deemed her old enough to participate. It was there that she first discovered just how much she enjoyed scaring the sins out of people, and watching them face what was to come upon their judgment day as long unless they changed their wicked ways and embraced the light of Him. Although she was only brought to attend one once (not because she needed it, but because it was important for her parents to make sure that she realized what happened to those who defiled the lives He had given them), it made a lasting mark, and some of the practices—such as the severe dramatization of sin—depicted in these Hell Houses have seeped into the way she runs the Crusade. For example, if she feels that a particular follower has sinned to the extent of needing to be punished, she will instruct them to take one of those little pills that brings the soul to a more divine platform, and together with some of her apostles, they will put on a horrifying rendition of the act that caused the disciple to stray. These sorts of fear tactics, though barbaric and agonizing to endure, have proven to be utterly effective, and are therefore deemed necessary by the higher powers at hand.

Like many righteous Catholics, Ariel is set in her opinions regarding what is and what is not sinful—and she is also keen to ignore the passages in the Bible that might inconvenience her way of life. One example of this is her potent vanity, as she spends an hour each morning preparing her appearance for the day ahead, painting her face with just the right amount of makeup to make her look as pristine as she can achieve. Her closet is full of questionable clothing, from skirts that are a bit too short to heels that are perhaps a bit too high, because despite her virtue, she enjoys attracting the eyes of all those who she passes, as well as towering above them with her legs as long as the stained glass windows that extend for yards in Wind Gap’s church. However, she knows her limits, and would never go as far as dressing like an outright hussy—after all, God wouldn’t want that.

As a child, when her brother was placed in various pee-wee programs such as soccer and baseball, her mother was quick to enroll young Ariel in ballet classes at the age of five—and as it turns out, the little girl had a talent for it. The years went by, and she dedicated her time to the craft, becoming one of the best dancers in her class as well as one of the first to begin pointe training at eleven. With her long limbs and naturally slender frame, she made the ideal ballerina, and continued to push herself as her feet grew covered with sores and scars from the practice. Although she was never quite good enough to consider taking it to a professional level, in her small town, she was a star and it became yet another platform that hoisted her above the rest of her peers. With her recent endeavors doing God’s work, Ariel has had to cut back on her hours in the studio, though continues to practice as often as she can to keep her body in peak physical condition.

Upon more than one occasion, Ariel has felt a strange clenching sensation in her stomach—a sensation that is usually reserved for attractive members of the opposite sex—when around, God have mercy, fellow females. Although she has not admitted this to a single person (not even her priest during the act of confession, though she has taken it upon herself to say enough Hail Mary’s to make up for her sinful thoughts), she is plagued by wicked images of other girls in questionable circumstances, set anywhere from the local ballet studio (full of its many mirrors, all the better to showcase her deviant deeds) to the high school’s bathrooms to her own bedroom. As an avid believer in love being between only a man and a woman, Ariel feels as if these thoughts are the Devil testing her, as he tested Eve in the Garden of Eden by dangling the forbidden fruit right between her eyes—and unlike the original sinner, she must resist, regardless of how tempted she might be to see if it tastes as sweet as she imagines.

As any good Catholic girl should, Ariel is, of course, waiting until marriage to give up her virtue—but, that does not mean her sexuality cannot be used for the greater good in the meantime. Over the the past few years, as her body began to bloom into that of a woman’s, the girl has learned how to use it to get what she wants without disobeying God’s commandments. She has been known to go above and beyond when it comes to shepherding people into His light, though such actions will surely secure her a rightful seat in Heaven next to the Lord himself. After all, when you’re Catholic, you must do whatever it takes to save those who have not accepted their invitation to His table, which is something Ariel has dedicated her life towards.

Her body, as proclaimed in the first book of Corinthians 6:19, is a temple and it belongs to God—and should be treated as such. Because of this, she is careful to keep from covering herself in any lasting marks, and does not have many visible scars because of this, besides the marks she has endured due to ballet. The only other noticeable blemishes upon her body is a slight discoloration upon her knees from praying on wooden benches and floors, but she does not have any brands or marks that the other members of the Crusade bear.

TOWN CONNECTIONS;

The Sheep: Her brother, her dear, loyal brother—he who is supposed to inherit the Abernathy’s practice, who is supposed to follow in their father’s footstep’s—and yet he remains more silent than his sister, who has done more to earn what is his to claim. To an extent, Ariel resents him for being born into the gender roles that would have been more suited to her, and yet, she loves him as God instructs siblings to love the other. She is not Cain and he is not Abel, and she trusts him to be a loyal righthand in the Crusade, and to be a leader when their disciples need him to be. However, she knows that he does not share the same drive, that spark needed to ignite the flame, that she possesses—which is both a blessing and a curse.

The Saint: The girl who received the mark that should have belonged to her, the girl who didn’t deserve to be heralding a saint—after all, what had she done to earn it? Meanwhile, Ariel has dedicated her existence to spreading God’s glory, yet for whatever reason, he chose to give another the mark of the Lord. These are the thoughts the preacher’s daughter keeps to herself rather than voicing, as there is nothing to gain from seeming bitter. No, she will keep her friends close and her enemies closer, though she disguises this as an act to bring the Saint closer to Him. After all, it is not her place to ignore his blessings, and as much as she despises that it wasn’t she who was blessed, Ariel must do her duty as His shepherdess and embrace Amelia—but that doesn’t mean the loyal disciple cannot search for the truth behind the stigmata, for perhaps it was caused by something else entirely.

The Historian: One of the Crusade’s primary practices is the elevation that comes with being in an altered state of mind, which would not be possible without the always reliable local history teacher. Given her carefully crafted good girl image, the monthly transactions between the two of them must be kept as silent as possible—something Ariel knows she can count on him for, given that he has just as much (if not more) to lose should his less than savory antics leak to the town. After all, she’s always been good at displacing the blame from herself, and should they get caught or should he betray her, the preacher’s daughter already has more than one plot up her sleeve just in case.

The Hero: He had begun as nothing but another apostle, a nameless face—though a pretty one—in the crowd of her followers, and at first, Ariel had more important things to pay attention to than another recruit. However, unlike those before him who had risen in rank because they had impressed her, he did not catch the leader’s eye until he began to fail. It was then that she saw something in him, perhaps an opportunity, to take this fallen angel and attempt to repair his wings—and mold him into one of the Crusade’s top soldiers. Although her little birds have informed her that there were whispers questioning her decision in appointing him, the preacher’s daughter refuses to budge, fully believing that she has made the decision that He would want her to make. After all, it is with God’s love that one may rise above their shortcomings, and who better than Ariel to bestow it upon those who have earned it?

STORYTIME;

It was a beautiful day in Wind Gap the day the Abernathy twins came into existence; after eleven hours of intense labor that went through the rainy night, the newest addition to the family was greeted with rays of sunlight streaming through the windows of the local hospital, as well as the prayers of her father which were met with her piercing cries. Soon after, her brother joined them, eerily silent in comparison to his twin, whose sobs were still echoing across the room as her father rocked her in his arms. After a few necessary pats on the bottom, he finally began to wail, which seemed to make her howls grow louder as it were a sort of competition. Eventually, he grew quiet and then so did she, and after some time to recover the twins were brought home. As a child, Ariel was notoriously more difficult than her brother, mainly due to her stubborn nature that reared its ugly head by the time she was a toddler; despite this, she was loved by all that came in contact with her, and as the preacher’s daughter, the girl was constantly fawned over by churchgoers and family alike—which was no surprised given those big blue eyes and her infectious smile. Despite her unceasing need for attention, she proved to be quite the little prize, learning how to walk and talk at an exceptional speed. In fact, even as a child Ariel demonstrated an uncanny ability to charm those around her, claiming the regard of everyone in the room at the drop of a hat—whether it was because she had done something adorable or because something had warranted a tantrum, she learned from an early age how to make sure she was receiving the attention the preacher’s daughter deserved. These tactics were especially effective when it came to her father, whom she was constantly trying to impress and delight—though if his attention drifted away from his little princess for too long, whether it was directed towards his practice or her brother (especially her brother, the heir of the family, despite the fact that she was the eldest child), she had a tendency to regaining it by any means necessary, once going as far as to purposefully trip and scrape her knee on a rock in their backyard when the preacher had spent too long playing catch with her twin.

As the girl grew up, she proved to excel at mastering each challenge she was presented with, her headstrong attitude giving her the drive necessary to be as close to the best in each area of her life. Along with excelling in school and ballet, Ariel contribution to the church continued to increase as she neared puberty, acting as one of the primary singers in the church’s choir and sitting at the top of her CCD class. She modeled herself to be the ideal Catholic girl, with a diamond cross around her neck and mild discoloration about her knees from praying throughout the day, and her family could not have been more proud of how their beloved angel had turned out. Throughout even the early stages of her life, she had been vocal about her belief in Him and had been quick to damn the sinners who renounced the Lord and His ways—a tendency that resulted in the one and only time Ariel was called into the principal’s office at school when she was twelve. She had been in the school yard minding her own business when she had heard one thirteen year old boy blabbering on about how the church brainwashes its followers, and how Jesus Christ and his many miracles were just some scam invented by men who founded the long running cult in the history of the world—and, being the good Catholic that she was, Ariel of course could not simply let this blasphemy slide without compromising her standing in God’s eyes; so, with her one fist clenched and the other one grasping her cross, the blonde stormed over to him and demanded that he apologize to theLord for spewing such wicked lies—a demand that he refused with a laugh, and it was then that she tackled him to the ground, pressing his face into the mud as her knees dug into his back whilst she waited for him have the revelation he so desperately needed. Within minutes, she was torn off of him and they were escorted to the main office, but when she was confronted with her actions, Ariel simply began to cry and convinced the principal that the boy was not only blasphemous, but that he had also shoved her first. Due to this and the fact that the principal was a member of the same church her father was stationed, she was let go with a minor warning while the boy was sentenced to in school suspension for the rest of the week. Eventually, he wrote her a former apology at the instruction of his father, and was consistently seen in the pews at church every Sunday after that. This was the first taste Ariel received of what it felt like to shepherd astray sinners back into His light, and although it had been messy, there was no mistaking that it was what she had been put upon this Earth to do.

Once she reached high school, Ariel had successfully established herself in the top tier of the community, embodying the idea of the pristine preacher’s daughter and using it to her advantage. She was popular amongst her peers, friends with those she found acceptable and almost feared by those she did not; she held her head high and wore her cross for the world to see, with prayers dancing off of her tongue through her glossed lips, and when she was speaking, there were very few who had the gall to attempt to project above her. Her charming disposition and her remarkable skill when it came to manipulation caused the majority of people who came in contact with her, from her peers to her teachers to the priests at church, to both revere or adore her—or a combination of the two. When she and her brother founded the Crusade, it was done in an act of desperation when they had discovered how fall the town had fallen. Ariel realized that she lived in a town obsessed with the ghosts of sinners, of murderers, of whores, of women who were all but witches in the eyes of the Lord—and she, for one, could not stand by any longer and watch the fires of Hell itself consume Wind Gap with their wicked flames. Something had to be done, and since no one else was stepping up to the plate, she would be the one to do it. And so they began recruiting their peers for the Crusade, spreading the gospel of the Lord and preparing those willing to listen for the inevitable second coming of Jesus himself. In order to repent for their sins, drastic measures had to be taken—and so she threw herself into it, doing whatever it took to show people His light. The practices grew progressively more sadistic, though she rarely felt any pain—after all, she was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? It was her duty as His disciple to cure humanity of its sinful ways, even if that meant she had to rip their wickedness from her—His—followers like an infected scab from an arm, and they love her for it. They beg her to cleanse them, to lead them into the light, to purge their sins from their bodies and brand them with God’s love, and she adheres to their wishes. She is an angel among sinners, doing what is necessary to bring the Satan to his knees, and she will not stop until they all hear her—God’s—gospel.

WHO ARE THEY;

With numerous copies of the Lord’s book placed strategically about her room and a rosary always on hand, to the untrained eye, Ariel appears to be the model Catholic daughter; however, underneath the surface is girl with a chilling lust for power and an uncanny talent for manipulation—which, paired with her angelic persona, make a deadly coalition. In public, she is careful to maintain the pristine image that she has so carefully crafted and built, with kindness as her weapon and a wholesome smile painted across her lips. There is no denying that the girl has a charm about her—anyone, even those who find her unpleasant, would tell you that—which she is quick to use this to her advantage, and rarely a day goes by where she does not get what she wants. On top of this, Ariel is more than quite intelligent and is especially talented in liberal arts classes, always quick to be the first volunteer for a debate or to be the leader in a group project. Her image is incredibly important to her, and she works hard to preserve it—after all, her social standing has its advantages when it comes to doing God’s work.

The preacher’s daughter, though both virtuous and pious, will not let the church’s own moral code stand in the way of her shepherding the Lord’s lost sheep back into His light—after all, what’s a minor sin if you’re snagging a sinner away from the Devil’s grasp as a result? Due to this ideology, Ariel is quick to use her cunning methods of manipulation when it comes to acquiring new followers for the Crusade, taking time to observe her target before determining their weakest point—and promptly preying upon it. Although she has maintained her promise to save herself until marriage (as is instructed by the Lord himself), the girl has been known to use her womanly gifts to sway those towards her cause; now, don’t get her wrong—she’s no harlot and would never stoop so low as to have intercourse with anyone who hadn’t put a ring on her finger—however, she knows that when it comes to salvation, a little sinning can go a long way if it is for the greater good.

As a leader, the blonde commands attention, towering above all of her apostles—as she should, considering thatshe is the Lord’s favorite. She has dedicated her existence to saving the wicked souls of those around her, to purifying those in need of redemption, and bringing deliverance to those who have earned it; however, beingsaved is hardly an easy feat, and Ariel knows that sacrifice is key to unlocking the gates of Heaven. Because of this, she cannot afford to have mercy upon her followers or those who do not believe, and is strict with her punishments—as well as just with her rewards. While her demands are cruel and the acts degrading, she masks them with her sweet words and angelic praise, promising that the agony will be worth it when God embraces His faithful children in His glory, while the rest will be forced to spend an eternity in anguish when Satan claims them.

STATUS;

T A K E N

*aesthetic // resources

#my eventual tag for her #about

eviebrennan:

“Well, I’m no bible thumper like you but I’m almost certain your God teaches to love all and judge none and you seem to have gotten that terribly terribly wrong.” Evie said, a humorless smirk gracing her pink lips as she released a puff of smoke in the blond’s direction. “Piss would still taste vile even sweetened, same principle applies to whatever nonsense the priest was just telling you all at mass.”

“Some judgment is necessary when it comes to saving people from themselves—though I suppose that you’d have no concept on that, considering you’ve apparently succumbed to your demons.” Her face remained unfazed as the smoke entered her air space—she was used to being around cigarettes, and the Crusade often used thick incense during their rituals—though she had to fight back an eye roll. “I suppose the same could be said about your personality, though there’s always room for you to prove me wrong.”

#char: the artist

violetxcalloway:

Violet raised a dark eyebrow, long and elegant fingers nervously playing with the black hairtie around her thin wrist. “I can see why you wouldn’t be a fan of Amma, but Camille wasn’t awful.” Already, the freckled blonde seemed a bit intimidating, and she almost flinched when she questioned her as to why she hadn’t attended mass. “Illness - I was just on my way to pharmacy to pick up some medicine, actually.” Not that it was any of her business.

“Camille encouraged her sister’s descent into sin, whether she knew it or not,” Ariel remarked, unsure if she believed her own words, though it was better to brush off the subject than ponder upon whether their wickedness was justifiable. “Besides, she wrecked the canvas that God handcrafted, which is enough to have her condemned in my book.” Raising her eyebrows at Violet’s answer, she couldn’t help but feel suspicious—after all, what was better for an illness than spiritual healing? “Oh? I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure Jesus is too—though surely you’ll be better by next Sunday, I hope.”

#char: the angel

eviebrennan:

“I don’t think any God would welcome a judgmental spiteful little sheep like you and as for filling my lungs and head with toxic thoughts, it’s a lot better than drinking the kool-aid. I found it tastes quite bitter but not everyone has the capacity to think for themselves now, do they?” Evie said, keeping an emotionless expression as the blonde seemed to grow more and more outraged with each words she spat out.

"Surprising how you’re so quick to speak for someone you don’t even believe in. Somewhat hypocritical of you, isn’t it?” A smile was still stretched across her cheeks as she regarded the older girl, a little voice in her head reminding her repeatedly that sometimes, doing His work wasn’t easy. “Clearly you didn’t add enough sugar, sweetie—though that shouldn’t be a surprise, considering you’re a tart.”

#char: the artist #ariel is such a spiteful lil bitch i love it #and such a hypocrite

margiedressler:

“Well…” Margot thought for a moment, weighing her choices. “Alright, sure. I’ll pay attention to all the inspirational sermons, if it means getting perfect hair.”

A smile spread quickly across Ariel’s lips at the girls answer—it was always better to mold them young. “Wonderful. Alright, so here’s the first tip—invest in a good curling iron, as well as some deep conditioner. My hair is naturally far from straight, so I don’t have to do much on the ironing front, but it is always important to keep your hair healthy.”

#char: the mulder #that should be a graphic challenge tbh #pair your character with a mean girls quote!#love it

eviebrennan:

“And there is in worshipping a faceless deity, huh? You’ll never see your God, no one ever does and in the meantime you’re having a sour existence following his rules. At least the Crellin followers have caught a glimpse of their Messiah.”

“On the contrary, I’ll see our God when I take my rightful place beside His throne in the kingdom of Heaven. Who are you to assume my existence is sour, when you’re standing here filling your lungs with toxic smoke and your head with toxic thoughts? I am happy with my life—as for you, I feel nothing but sympathy towards your poor, lost soul. However, know that the Lord will always welcome you will open arms, should you choose to embrace him—as will I.”

#char: the artist #evie wants to get slapped HOW DARE SHE CHALLENGE THE LIGHT OF JESUS CHRIST AMEN

margiedressler:

I mean, I kind of zone out during church, but I’m sure the sermon was very inspirational. Also, how do you get you’re hair to stay so perfectly coifed the entire time? Mine always loses its poof half-way through.

"You shouldn’t zone out during church, you know—it defeats the whole point. Besides, God is always watching. As for my hair, well, perhaps I was blessed with it because I pay attention on His day.” Ariel maintained a straight face for a moment before letting out a light, playful laugh, shaking her head before offering the girl a friendly smile. “Practice makes perfect, and guessing by your age, you haven’t had much time to practice—but you will. If you’d like, I could even give you a few pointers, though you’d have to promise to pay better attention in mass first.”

#char: the mulder #omg thank you so much im honestly obsessed with her #i should put that on her blog tbh #my lil hypocritical manipulative baby

eviebrennan:

“I presume you’re talking about the Crellin women. You shouldn’t be so cynical about it, false prophets are an endless source of inspiration after all.”

“There’s nothing good about people worshipping deviant, mortal girls as if they were gods, and there’s no useful inspiration to be dragged from it. They were sinful in life, but more sinful in death, it seems—and they’re likely burning in Hell for it, as will their followers.”

#char: the artist #JESSICA SULA #i love jessica sula so much oh my god

violetxcalloway:

Um, care to refresh me on what girls you’re talking about? I wasn’t at church today.

"Those Crellin girls—you know the ones.” Ariel paused, rolling her eyes at their name, before shooting Violet a cold, inquisitive stare. “And what reason did you have for missing church, exactly?”

#char: the angel #omfg yes halsey my babe <3333 #also ariels a lil into girls too but she wouldnt admit it to bc it would be sinful~~~~

“I thought the sermon today was wonderful—with all this talk about those wicked girls lately, it was refreshing to hear their sins touched upon without the common public idolization.”

#wgrpstarters #its sunday today so i figured why not bring my lil bible thumper out to play #shes talking about amma and camille b t w

ameliaholyjones:

As her shaking fingers just about brushed the spine of the poor fallen books, a delicate hand came and swept them up before she could get a grip on them. She started upwards in surprise, catching her head on the still-open door of her locker and wincing. Without thinking she went to rub the sore spot on her head, remembering at the last moment the palm situation. She finally looked up at the person who had deemed her worthy of a helping hand, sheepish, pale cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

Of course it was Ariel.

She always seemed to be there, a shining light in the darkness of this place. Always offering a hand, a help, a prayer. Amy supposed she was something like a best friend. Amy tended to admire what she herself lacked. Ariel had a backbone, an (apparently) loving family, confidence. Sometimes, being around her, she felt a little bit stronger. Like she could take a little of her courage. Sometimes, being around her, she felt her inadequacies were thrown into an even sharper light. She felt she shrunk into nothing significant beside her. This was not the problem one would think - she was used to being invisible. She would rather be invisible in company. And what company she had. It seemed so many of the best and brightest were in the crusade, and while she wasn’t exactly a member (not trusted enough for that probably), she was still blessed by association. She was a mascot, a real life miracle. She held a special affection for Ariel’s brother particularly, appreciating his softness that balanced his sister’s determination. Both of them were angelic to her. Pure. Good. Not like herself, steeped in sin and doubt.

But here, there was a chance at redemption. According to Ariel, her knowledge on all that was happening to her, stigmata was a blessing given only to God’s chosen. What blessing made your hands and feet bleed, your side and head ache? But then, God worked in mysterious ways. Amy shouldn’t try to understand. Just believe. It was harder than it sounded. She trusted what Ariel told her, but couldn’t help wonder if maybe there was a medical or psychosomatic reason for what was happening to her.

“I’m always having trouble.” She murmured, taking the books and carefully, carefully placing them inside her perfectly organised locker. It was a fairly accurate statement. She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t struggling. She was always a mess. Unlike the girl in front of her. She couldn’t imagine Ariel fucking up a history test or getting lost in the woods or struggling with math problems. And okay, she knew it was partly her own mind pushing that image, but it was hard to fight the picture she was presented with. “I’m uh, heading home early today. It’s a bad day.” Bad day as in her shoes were filling with blood and she couldn’t hold a damn pen. Somehow bad day didn’t quite cover it.

Although she was doing her best to keep her eyes glued to the redhead’s face, when the girl’s hand darted towards her forehead, Ariel could not help but sneak a peek at the holy marks upon her palm. There was a beauty to them, those almost perfect circles running red with the blood blessed by the Lord, still visible while trapped beneath the fabric of Amelia’s gloves, and yet the sensation the sight brought was ruined as she was reminded once again how she had not been chosen. For a brief second, she pictured her own hands adorned with the Lord’s mark, her fingers twitching and her toes flexing as her breath hitched at the glorious thought—and yet, she was forced to snap out of her fantasy, as she knew of all people knew that now was not the time to focus on anything but the task at hand.

Returning her attention to Amelia, Ariel pouted, her bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as she tilted her head to the side, sympathy exuding from her every pore. “You poor thing,” she cooed, reaching out towards the younger girl and briefly caressing her cheek, hoping the action would comfort her. Jealousy might have sunk its ugly teeth into her skin, but she refused to let it leave a mark upon everything she had worked so hard to obtain—after all, envy was a sin, and she wouldn’t want anything to smudge her pristine image. With a soft sigh, she moved to stand, her back straightening along with her legs as she practiced that perfect posture her body was accustomed to. As her protégé fiddled with her locker, Ariel’s gaze did not falter from the girl, the blonde’s head tilting to the side as she studied her expression.

She let out a light laugh at Amy’s remark, shaking her head as if she meant to refute it, though in reality she did not care to. The troubled ones were always more susceptible to her beckoning, as they were usually desperate by the time she came along with promises of a purpose and whispers of acceptance; the truth was that she knew exactly how to prey upon the insecurity of others—though she had a way about her that caused her targets to never realize they were just that, and she peppered her words with sweet compliments and reassurance that everyone craved. Now, when it came to those who already possessed a sense of self-assurance, things were a bit more difficult—though that was a game Ariel loved to play, and one that she almost always won—though that was a different matter entirely.

“I suppose He’s challenging you,” she mused, shaking her head as if it were a shame, though part of her reveled in the pain the so-called holy girl felt. “Just remember—what seems like a punishment now will lead to your eventual salvation. That is, if you embrace it.” The blonde shot the girl a comforting, yet soft, smile before opening her bag and grabbing a pack of tissues, extending them in Amelia’s direction. “Will you have anyone at home to take care of you?” Ariel asked, her voice full of concern as her brown furrowed to match the tone, only to be followed by a slight shake of her head.

“You know what? Don’t even answer that—you do now.”

#para #char: the saint

ameliaholyjones:

Drip. Drip. Drip. She glanced down, eyes following the source of the insistent, small noise. Oh not. Not again. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she smudged the small droplets of blood gathered on her pristine workbook with a sleeve, leaving an ugly smear across the neat inked writing. Her stomach lurched with a twinge of shame. It was odd, really, how the simple sight of blood could make her cheeks flush with the same substance, make her want to hide the evidence of suffering. Maybe it was a pavlovian response to seeing so many girls mocked for their periods in this place, so many hiding their cramps behind a smile, excusing themselves with a learned politeness. She felt ashamed by her own blood. She cast her eyes around, wondering if anyone had seen the scarlet dripping from her woolen gloves. Since this entire ordeal had began, she had taken to wearing gloves to hide the swathes of white bandages tied around her palm. The thick socks on her feet performed the same basic function. But today, it had soaked right through. She wasn’t sure what caused the ebb and flow of the amount that leaked from her, but it always seemed to hit at the worst moment possible. Some days it was barely anything, others could make her feel faint with how much spilled. The Crusade said she should count it as a blessing. And she was trying. Truly. But aren’t blessings supposed to, well, be good?

“May I be excused?” The teacher blinked in surprise. No wonder. Amelia wasn’t sure if he had ever heard her voice. But he did excuse her, mercifully, and she scooped up her books and bag in a single fluid movement, exiting somewhat hastily, ignoring the few curious glances following her. She would launch her things in her locker, and then flee home to suffer privately. Perhaps she would call Ariel. Sometimes hearing her strength helped, even if it could cause a side effect of inadequacy. Every step she took caused a lightening sharp pain to flash across the sole of both her feet. She got to her locker, fumbling with the door and her books until they hammered to the floor, along with another few conspicuous red drops.

“Rats.” She murmured, crouching to try and pick them up, unaware of the coming and going of the student body behind her.

As her free period drew closer, the classroom was filled with a plethora of white noise—the ticking of the clock on the wall set the beat for the gossiping students that sat around Ariel, their voices hushed in hopes of not drawing the attention of the monotonous teacher. With an exasperated sigh escaping her lips, the blonde glanced down at her phone, the screen lighting up with the time and as a result, taunting her with the remaining five minutes. Why God was forcing His loyal follower to endure this useless lecture, she world would never know, but at least after this year she would be able to put that nonsense behind her.

Had she not spotted a glimpse of red hair dart past through the small window that rested in the door, the preacher’s daughter might have been willing to linger until the bell dismissed her—however, she had spotted it, and it was at that moment that Ariel realized that there was a different bell sounding silently, one thats divine authority could not be ignored. So without so much as a word, the girl swiftly slid her notebook into her bag, ignoring the protesting inquiries that left her teacher’s lips and the eyes that suddenly darted in her direction as she left.

With determination present in each stride, Ariel marched towards Amelia’s locker, a smirk twitching on the side of her mouth as she swallowed a laugh when the girl dropped her books. In one prompt action, she swept in and picked up the books, her eyes immediately darting to the red splashes that were lightly splattered against the material. A wave of jealousy thudded in her stomach, though she was quick to brush it off, swallowing it along with her pride as a coy smile painted itself across her lips.

“Having some trouble, are we?”

Her voice was endearingly playful as the words flowed smoothly off her tongue, matching the beginnings of a grin that was forming across her cheeks. Standing up, Ariel offered her hand to the other girl, attempting to keep her eyes fixed upon her face despite the overwhelming urge to look down at the bleeding marks that adorned her palms. Another twinge of envy nearly flashed across her face, though she quickly tamed it, instead maintaining that winning smile she had mastered so well. After all, it was important that Amy saw her as someone she could turn to—someone who would be there for her, no matter if she deserved it—and there was no way in Hell that the blonde would allow momentary discontent make her doubt that.

#para #char: the saint

ariel abigail abernathy — triple a, for when you’re lost and need jesus to drive you home

#moodboard #i'll come up with a tag for her development later because i need it to be clever and i am not clever rn #wgrpworld

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

do you feel like a young god