Reverend Mother Michael Therese
Who: Reverend Mother Michael Therese
When: Mid-December, 1940, Early Morning/Later.
Where: St. Ursula's Academy for Young Ladies, Private Office.
Rating: PG, at worst.
Status: Intro Post/May be joined by coming to the school, though if not a student, nun, or priest in residence, access would have to be rigorously played, as the academy is behind walls, and semi-cloistered. UPDATE: This post is closed, but the next will reference it, and continue.


Sister Michael Therese sat at her desk. On one side of the old, yet immaculately polished dark wooden surface sat a small pile of papers. Before her, carefully lined up, a green shaded lamp, a letter opener in the shape of a small sword with a cross at its pommel, a pen, and ink. Other than a few small stains of deep blue, the blotter was clean, though not very new. The novice standing before her fidgeted.

She continued to sit, not yet acknowledging the recalcitrant girl. She was deeply concerned, yet maintained a stoic demeanor, as her eyes finally left the top of the pile of papers, and focused on the young woman. She could well recall being so young, though it seemed farther and farther away some days from her current reality. "What were you thinking?"

Her voice was stern, yet kept soft. That was when the novices knew she was at her most dangerous. "There are curfews. You endanger us all by breaking them. And for what? What reason could you possibly have to be beyond the safety of our walls, least of all in secret?" She continued, expecting no response as yet. "Child, they are shooting people for such trivialities, what were you thinking?"

That was only how the day had begun. The Reverend mother had a sinking feeling already. After dismissing the girl, whose excuses had not entirely rung true, she spent the next hour in silent contemplation. She had a very, very bad feeling.