Priscilla Matas
920 Words
Please don’t get attached to this next character. She… she’s the only one at the academy that truly didn’t work out. She’s special alright; always was a wallflower, a germophobe, bit of a nympho out of the classroom though no one would know, and unable to make heads or tails of practical existence outside of just kind of floating around like a glorious, misunderstood, ebony wondercase.
Everyone spoke of her in hushed tones since the “incident” last term where she supposedly jumped off a 5 story window while tripping on acid. There was none found in her system at the time of death, nor when the cleanup crew team ran the autopsy, but some of the last students to have seen her alive was the Gamma Epsilon fraternity that said they’d witnessed her dropping tabs just hours before her fall. It’s more likely that a team of rogue interdimensional fairies tapped her eyesight, gave her visions, and lured her out of the window under the auspices of walking into a riptide of alluring green lily pads or a field of black roses. Their visions were always fanciful and romantic, and they considered their provocations not a threat or an unethical play, but rather a flattering gesture given that they’re trying to recruit new members all the time.
Priscilla however, hadn’t chosen the all-hailed saintly honor of resurrecting as a fairy or even an astral-based sylph of the ethereal realms, but rather selected to rest back as an angel and one of the Creators of the known universe. This would ensure that she could never die again, and that she may return to the world of humans as a light specter in order to affect or afflict magic, good or bad, without the common human-based restraints. She could planeswalk in and out of dimensions through dimensional portals (most of which are still undiscovered, even by Arther) to affect her will to greater extent than she’d ever been able to before on Earth.
Everything and everyone had a story, she knew that now, after observing quite introspectively and exigently even just for a year now so far.
She had quite the bone to pick with the Academy, however. She hadn’t been at Gamma Epsilon that forsaken night. No, she’d stopped by there only to see whether or not her brother, who was on the committee, needed a jacket as it was rather cold on that night, the Japanese misty fog hanging overhead like a forgotten thought.
What had provoked her to jump out of the window? The fairies of the night? The fae? Or something far more sinister? Priscilla had been at the top of her class in everything. It was not far off to imagine that someone competitive had given her a little push. Someone like… Shawna. Now, she didn’t want to accuse goody little two-shoes Shawna Kikacy because she had nothing against the girl. It’s just that they were neck and neck in the grading range, and consistently competing (on some level, and according to the books) for first place in class. All Priscilla knew, was that she hadn’t tried to kill herself that night. Though it was somewhat hazy, since she’d had a couple shots of patron from the president of Gamma Epsilon, who she’d had a bit of a crush on, she knew that she didn’t have a death wish. So what had happened, to turn Prissy into the good little ghost she was, angellicaly divining and blessing up the realms with good fortune and little mystical acts of luck and good will, like sparkles and fairy dust?
That little mystery was definitely something that kept her around in the bardic realms, helping the humans whilst talking it up with the other undead; let’s call them angels. There were also those who decided to turn into ghostly demons, haunting the halls of the realms (the backend, behind the veils) with a fury, or a calculated bad sense of humor, slightly inconveniencing all the humans with little acts of mayhem, ranging from the petty and inconsequential (like stealing a hair tie or bookmark) to full-on beckoning them to do bad things and haunting people for the explicit purpose of tripping them up, sometimes to their doom. These things all existed, but it muddied the waters of their own karma in order to instigate. You could be a level one angel with 5 million units of good fortune karma and blow it all on a single night of debauchery from beheading one malicious person with your sword. Even though it was good to kill monsters, it was considered in the realms a despicable act; this is why the good-league superheroes are always so careful to merely arrest their villains, rather than using excess force or murder. And don’t get us wrong, being in the military does not disguise killings from being murder; lawful murder is murder all the same. On the level of animals, is eating meat murder? These rules certainly encountered some moral grey areas. Suffice it to say, most humans had a lot of karma built up. The demon ghosts had even more. (It’s a complicated mathematical grading rubric; you’d have to see the documents of the angels to truly get it).
- Writer
