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Name: Ora vi Nottita
Epithet:
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Sexuality: Personal
Affiliation: Marines
Occupation: Doctor/Nightingale
Appearance:
There is a woman that all men would fall over in love with, kiss the shoes of the diva for a second of her attention and praise god for the bounty the placed on the earth.
Then theres Ora Nottita. Meh
The Most eye catching attribute would be her pink hair, measuring almost down to her waist, its one of the attributes she favors about herself, being able to style in various ways and she and unconsciously plays with when shes concentrating on other things. Shes a rather slender woman, perhaps is aiding to that old gypsie curse by staying out of the kitchen or running from the flames then after. Her appearance credits her some appeal, beneficial to reassure patients and convince others that she is a real sweet heat and all around a good doctor then morally corrupt those traits to manipulate matters to her own ends. Her looks would be a rather last resort and self-esteem issues are a pest.
Those rare moments when shes not in the emergency ward, arms deeps in some guys guts or walking through a morg with dread that zombies would animate just then at that moment when shes among corpses. Ora can let her hair down, up or styled in what fashion is trending with an array of outfits to boot. Though uniform regulation can be downer, in which case she likes to be practical, just enough to show some personal note to the strict dress code.
Nothing much altered with the dark navy bottoms which is one of the few items which has stuck to the regulations, thigh ammo belts are an addition, one each strapped to both legs and occasionally Ora can be in her black combat boots or trying to get away with a more fashionable shoe, ankle boot, a wedge shoe. Her upper body would be dressed in a black vest with a sleeveless dark grey hoodie over black tank top and the traditional marine emblazoned jacket, a with a white crop sleeved zip up jack that stretches half down her stomach. The jacket has a zipper running along its entire length, which is opened from the bottom upwards. The jacket's sleeves completely envelop her arms with inner black finger gloves attached to the jacket. The jacket has a high collar that can be used to cover her lower face, just below her eyes and has black seams down the zip and around the collar while the inside of the jacket being black. Depending on what form she has her hair in, straight, bun, braids and when suitable Ora can be seen wearing the Marines baseball cap and additionally a surgical mask may occasionally be worn.
.
Hair Color: Pink
Eye Color: Turquoise
Skin Tone: Pale brown
Height: 5’7
Weight: 126
Tattoo: N/A
Personality:
Ora can be the model Plane jane for socially acceptable behavior, in greeting she can be courteous and genial with a engaging smile. Its an express process for Ora to employ with ‘people’, her colleagues, superiors could dub Ora under those descriptions if failing to add aloof. She is a talkative, social type and can gossip like the trollops in laundry detail and can add a sarcastic note or banter with playful jabs, commonly misconstrued as a bit of a ditz, though a poor word to describe her somewhat off ball persona. Compassionate, brave and just. These should be the traits of someone in her station and occupation, being a Marine her morals can be questionable even to those that are generally opposed to the law, as a medical care provider her bed side manner can be lacking or just abandonment, she is more self-involved and can begrudgingly to do so for others if they are just about on deaths door and annoyingly screaming out in pain or a case that’s as fascinating as it were a puzzle to solve. A individual who would not be your first choice for medical assistance, Ora can come off as rambeling talking quack, though her humor is eccentric and well maybe her social behaviour is a bit .. out there. A ‘ditz’ for better term and lacking a psych evaluation, she is rather easy going and laid back or observantly lazy. Disliking responsibility, another term used for ‘more work’ Ora would shy away or downplay her performance to avoid such responsibilities. There is passion and focus within Ora, it can be few and far in-between and can be a mental switch in gears whenever occurrence triggers it. With full unwavering attention it is a difference in character, as though to be releasing weariness. The deflection and façade could pause as if taking an entire mood swing, resorting to a cold and insensitive under person. The ditz can be a sliver of a giveaway actual to be a somewhat ruthless bitch, unfiltered, Ora is consciously flawed and distant. Knowing right from wrong, she was read the bedtime storys though struggles to fit situations into appropriate categories.
Ora likes to believe she is well versed in the intricacies of emotions people perform, having to act and mask herself for a majority of them daily though can noticeably fall short when confronted with peoples grief, as a doctor, on occasion she has to confront friends or relatives of the deceased, as a doctor she trys to be professional but as a person it can be a awkward position. This state of uncertainty is not just limited to divulging life changing terminal news, but also times when reaching for a empty roll when toilet paper did once pier exist, finding no matching socks, forgetting the part of the song were what body part connects to next when undergoing surgery. Life never gives you certainties, unless you find were he lives, threaten his love ones and then reap in the benefits from a offshore untraceable banking account.
Ora can be good with a scalpel, proficient with a stethoscope, overcome the basics in marine training and even knows a sing song tune on a banjo but when inside a kitchen, cooking says no. Perhaps crossing a culinary gypsie and putting a annoying voodoo curse on her, the most she can make in the kitchen without the food burning or the kitchen spontaneous bursting into flame is cold toast, warm toast and dabbles a bit with cereal.
This has kind of gave Ora a odd respect or affection towards professional cooks and chefs, if she eat their food and liked it that chef would immediately have a BFF right on that spot. Ora is rather ignorant of her inability to cook and misfortune when inside of a kitchen, god bless her she tries and then everybody would have to suffer from it, either from food poison, smoke inhalation or the fire brigade being a regular acquaintance when part of the marine base burns down. Apart from food and the great respect for people who make it, Ora enjoys music of multiple varieties and can conduct them with various instruments she learned before changing her focus and career to medicine. Rather conscious about her music, she feels some regret about changing her life’s path though ultimately the circumstances was against her from the start though there is pain when criticism is brought up about her music. Her other hobbies include reading and writing some, mostly fiction, fantasy and a guity pleasure the occasional romance story which she gets extremely guarded.
Likes:
Butterfly catching
Reading fiction
Simple foods
Socialising
Dislikes:
Responsibility
Paperwork
Cooking
Pain
Motivations: A conviction to live, born with a heretical disease that greatly decreases her life expectancy, among other symptoms. Ora is actively seeking to prolong her life knowing her own mortality
Under miserable circumstance she craves achievement with her brief life. If fortune, world domination and a mansion made out of diamonds came across her path that would just be just fantastic as well.
Fears:
Disease’s side affects
Physically crippled
Death
Inner Lineage:
Cynical Affection:
There are groups of people, familys and individuals with distinguished skill or ability that set them apart from the masses of the world. Notable characters capable of constructing great feats with their own hands, the creative potential of some labeling them in a category of their own as artists and experts. For some, preparation, time and training is needed for people to achieve their potential and then theres the natural. The exceptional and geniuses of the world, either recognized as intellectual thinkers or skilled in some form or other, the prodigious monitory quickly recognizable through sheer talent. For Ora Vi Nottita she is a master of her craft, either a divinity of subterfuge or prosperity that only few can contest with. With this trait Ora's buffs/debuffs linger twice as long.
Outer Lineage:
N/a
Writing Sample
An afternoon spoilt, though that’s almost every day of the week when work is involved but today or that particular moment Ora Vi Nottita was not particularly roaming down the plain default oatmeal color hall, her purpose was to get to the other side of the hall, the plan being as simple as that and wasn’t it some great philosopher who said that ‘knowing was half the battle’ and possibly the other half was getting the bugger before he got you. The hall wasn’t at fault for the unpleasantness of Ora’s afternoon, in fact the oatmeal grey being a neutral color was apparently a relaxing tone or so the statistics she heard from one place at one time or other. A thought if she spared it would believe it was another waste of government spending, god knew how much beli was flush to find the statistic for relaxing color tones, if she was going to do a hall or a room it would not be a dull oatmeal grey color. The present discern was the assault on her noise, either someone let one rip or something recently died in the hallway, with a side rotten eggs. A laugh from up ahead from a pedestrian and some equal disdain from the neighboring two, Ora could guess who the culprit was and taking a mental image of the beefy male for volunteer organ donor when she sees him in the clinic. Some flatulence was probably over exaggeration for a spoiling a whole afternoon, though it did damper the already down trodden mood and could she taste that? A smell so pungent that it crossed over the boundary to sense of taste now?! ‘’it won’t smell any better if it barf onto the floor’’ she told herself, feeling rather disgusted and ill with the expression to mirror her feelings. And even if she did spew her burnt toast breakfast and m.i.a omelette that didn’t very much make it off the frying pan, she knew, with a peculiar certainty that a puddle of human vomit would be a big contrast to the oatmeal theme walls of the hall. ‘just walk it off’ she also avoided the fact that she was walking behind and in the same direction with one that delt the offensive gas.
As one with familiarity Ora put her shoulder to a door and gave a brief shove before shuffling sideways inside, many books were piled inside the room and some ontop of a mat that spelled ‘WELC-‘ before being overrun with medical journals, some even wedged up against the door, giving it that characteristic fire hazard trait that the room’s two occupants grew to ignorantly love. Her entrance was quickly responded by a barking ‘SHUT THE DOOR!’ Ora did as instructed and before she can take more than two steps further into the room ‘Shoes. You’re dragging dirt in everywhere’’ with familiarity and routine she nosily scoffed, rolled her eyed and with one foot aiding the other she slipped her wedges of one by one and kicked them behind her, the footwear ricochet harmlessly off the door. It has been a ritual the two have conducted ever since the two became roommates, one roomie a over bearing neat freak and the other not so, a sit com ready to happen. However, no matter how little dirt there ever was in the room, the bits behind those hard to reach places, it all seem to have shot against the entrance to the room. Ora would probably not be happy knowing dirt and small stones got onto and into her shoes, though there wasn’t very much of it in the room to begin with and the whole action seemed oblivious to Ora and her roommate.
‘’What you studying’’ it was a question Ora said with no actual interest in the answer, just one of those gestures one does to spark conversation or just to be friendly, a method among many she knew to act socially. ‘’Medical theorys and practice’’ was the response her roommate made though it just came as noise to Ora when her interest was looking for something, though on auto she responded ‘oh’ as if interested but was actually looking for the plant feed among maddeningly organised revision books, a tell-tale sign that she was past the border and on her roommates side. A amusing notion swam through her brain pool ‘If plants were like people then no one would have to suffer in her care’ she mused over this and greatly blew the idea out of proportion, trees and bushes walking about wearing clothes and pretending to be human, she spaced out like this for a moment. Crossing her legs ontop of the bed, the side of the room and the threat to organization, after kicking away old clothes into the corner to get to her bed. With no breeze and closed windows, the little patch of dirt and stones that lay beside the door rushed, flopped and pinged against the corner of the room, though there was little of dirt and stones present in the room so this event was unobserved and went without notice. When looking for her shoes there would be a momentary pause to find one shoe beside the door and the other pressed against the corner of the room, though this misplaced feeling would be so brief that no second or first thought would consider the irregular odd placement, she would have to remove a shoe to extract a small stone inside. In a sweetest of sweet tone that can be summoned ‘’hey, bestie. Can I copy of your Tuesday morning notes’’ Ora kindly ask wile overly sugar coating it, while absently doing swirls in her hair with her finger. It was the expected result ‘’Heck no’’ her roommate said it with amazement like it wasn’t the hundred time Ora had asked, still chancing fate in-case she ever did enter a parallel universe and get free homework done for her. Ora still sighed, hearing the inevitable refusal she stopped swirling her hair, to quickly catch a small bottle ''and stop leaving your junk on my side’’ turning the bottle over she recognized the bottle for the plant feed, now she had to get up just after sitting down and feed the plants. She the curl she just swirled away from her face and with Another sigh got up to her feet and she navigated to the window bench were a small variety of small potted plants sat. Spilling some drops onto the plants she tried to register with some confusion the arrangement of the plants base, soil and pebbles designed into swirl pattern. Looking from plant to plant, the swirl was present in each pot. ‘’huuh’’
‘’we’re haunted’’
Epithet:
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Sexuality: Personal
Affiliation: Marines
Occupation: Doctor/Nightingale
- Ora Vi Nottita:
There is a woman that all men would fall over in love with, kiss the shoes of the diva for a second of her attention and praise god for the bounty the placed on the earth.
Then theres Ora Nottita. Meh
The Most eye catching attribute would be her pink hair, measuring almost down to her waist, its one of the attributes she favors about herself, being able to style in various ways and she and unconsciously plays with when shes concentrating on other things. Shes a rather slender woman, perhaps is aiding to that old gypsie curse by staying out of the kitchen or running from the flames then after. Her appearance credits her some appeal, beneficial to reassure patients and convince others that she is a real sweet heat and all around a good doctor then morally corrupt those traits to manipulate matters to her own ends. Her looks would be a rather last resort and self-esteem issues are a pest.
Those rare moments when shes not in the emergency ward, arms deeps in some guys guts or walking through a morg with dread that zombies would animate just then at that moment when shes among corpses. Ora can let her hair down, up or styled in what fashion is trending with an array of outfits to boot. Though uniform regulation can be downer, in which case she likes to be practical, just enough to show some personal note to the strict dress code.
Nothing much altered with the dark navy bottoms which is one of the few items which has stuck to the regulations, thigh ammo belts are an addition, one each strapped to both legs and occasionally Ora can be in her black combat boots or trying to get away with a more fashionable shoe, ankle boot, a wedge shoe. Her upper body would be dressed in a black vest with a sleeveless dark grey hoodie over black tank top and the traditional marine emblazoned jacket, a with a white crop sleeved zip up jack that stretches half down her stomach. The jacket has a zipper running along its entire length, which is opened from the bottom upwards. The jacket's sleeves completely envelop her arms with inner black finger gloves attached to the jacket. The jacket has a high collar that can be used to cover her lower face, just below her eyes and has black seams down the zip and around the collar while the inside of the jacket being black. Depending on what form she has her hair in, straight, bun, braids and when suitable Ora can be seen wearing the Marines baseball cap and additionally a surgical mask may occasionally be worn.
.
Hair Color: Pink
Eye Color: Turquoise
Skin Tone: Pale brown
Height: 5’7
Weight: 126
Tattoo: N/A
Personality:
Ora can be the model Plane jane for socially acceptable behavior, in greeting she can be courteous and genial with a engaging smile. Its an express process for Ora to employ with ‘people’, her colleagues, superiors could dub Ora under those descriptions if failing to add aloof. She is a talkative, social type and can gossip like the trollops in laundry detail and can add a sarcastic note or banter with playful jabs, commonly misconstrued as a bit of a ditz, though a poor word to describe her somewhat off ball persona. Compassionate, brave and just. These should be the traits of someone in her station and occupation, being a Marine her morals can be questionable even to those that are generally opposed to the law, as a medical care provider her bed side manner can be lacking or just abandonment, she is more self-involved and can begrudgingly to do so for others if they are just about on deaths door and annoyingly screaming out in pain or a case that’s as fascinating as it were a puzzle to solve. A individual who would not be your first choice for medical assistance, Ora can come off as rambeling talking quack, though her humor is eccentric and well maybe her social behaviour is a bit .. out there. A ‘ditz’ for better term and lacking a psych evaluation, she is rather easy going and laid back or observantly lazy. Disliking responsibility, another term used for ‘more work’ Ora would shy away or downplay her performance to avoid such responsibilities. There is passion and focus within Ora, it can be few and far in-between and can be a mental switch in gears whenever occurrence triggers it. With full unwavering attention it is a difference in character, as though to be releasing weariness. The deflection and façade could pause as if taking an entire mood swing, resorting to a cold and insensitive under person. The ditz can be a sliver of a giveaway actual to be a somewhat ruthless bitch, unfiltered, Ora is consciously flawed and distant. Knowing right from wrong, she was read the bedtime storys though struggles to fit situations into appropriate categories.
Ora likes to believe she is well versed in the intricacies of emotions people perform, having to act and mask herself for a majority of them daily though can noticeably fall short when confronted with peoples grief, as a doctor, on occasion she has to confront friends or relatives of the deceased, as a doctor she trys to be professional but as a person it can be a awkward position. This state of uncertainty is not just limited to divulging life changing terminal news, but also times when reaching for a empty roll when toilet paper did once pier exist, finding no matching socks, forgetting the part of the song were what body part connects to next when undergoing surgery. Life never gives you certainties, unless you find were he lives, threaten his love ones and then reap in the benefits from a offshore untraceable banking account.
Ora can be good with a scalpel, proficient with a stethoscope, overcome the basics in marine training and even knows a sing song tune on a banjo but when inside a kitchen, cooking says no. Perhaps crossing a culinary gypsie and putting a annoying voodoo curse on her, the most she can make in the kitchen without the food burning or the kitchen spontaneous bursting into flame is cold toast, warm toast and dabbles a bit with cereal.
This has kind of gave Ora a odd respect or affection towards professional cooks and chefs, if she eat their food and liked it that chef would immediately have a BFF right on that spot. Ora is rather ignorant of her inability to cook and misfortune when inside of a kitchen, god bless her she tries and then everybody would have to suffer from it, either from food poison, smoke inhalation or the fire brigade being a regular acquaintance when part of the marine base burns down. Apart from food and the great respect for people who make it, Ora enjoys music of multiple varieties and can conduct them with various instruments she learned before changing her focus and career to medicine. Rather conscious about her music, she feels some regret about changing her life’s path though ultimately the circumstances was against her from the start though there is pain when criticism is brought up about her music. Her other hobbies include reading and writing some, mostly fiction, fantasy and a guity pleasure the occasional romance story which she gets extremely guarded.
Likes:
Butterfly catching
Reading fiction
Simple foods
Socialising
Dislikes:
Responsibility
Paperwork
Cooking
Pain
Motivations: A conviction to live, born with a heretical disease that greatly decreases her life expectancy, among other symptoms. Ora is actively seeking to prolong her life knowing her own mortality
Under miserable circumstance she craves achievement with her brief life. If fortune, world domination and a mansion made out of diamonds came across her path that would just be just fantastic as well.
Fears:
Disease’s side affects
Physically crippled
Death
Inner Lineage:
Cynical Affection:
There are groups of people, familys and individuals with distinguished skill or ability that set them apart from the masses of the world. Notable characters capable of constructing great feats with their own hands, the creative potential of some labeling them in a category of their own as artists and experts. For some, preparation, time and training is needed for people to achieve their potential and then theres the natural. The exceptional and geniuses of the world, either recognized as intellectual thinkers or skilled in some form or other, the prodigious monitory quickly recognizable through sheer talent. For Ora Vi Nottita she is a master of her craft, either a divinity of subterfuge or prosperity that only few can contest with. With this trait Ora's buffs/debuffs linger twice as long.
Outer Lineage:
N/a
Writing Sample
An afternoon spoilt, though that’s almost every day of the week when work is involved but today or that particular moment Ora Vi Nottita was not particularly roaming down the plain default oatmeal color hall, her purpose was to get to the other side of the hall, the plan being as simple as that and wasn’t it some great philosopher who said that ‘knowing was half the battle’ and possibly the other half was getting the bugger before he got you. The hall wasn’t at fault for the unpleasantness of Ora’s afternoon, in fact the oatmeal grey being a neutral color was apparently a relaxing tone or so the statistics she heard from one place at one time or other. A thought if she spared it would believe it was another waste of government spending, god knew how much beli was flush to find the statistic for relaxing color tones, if she was going to do a hall or a room it would not be a dull oatmeal grey color. The present discern was the assault on her noise, either someone let one rip or something recently died in the hallway, with a side rotten eggs. A laugh from up ahead from a pedestrian and some equal disdain from the neighboring two, Ora could guess who the culprit was and taking a mental image of the beefy male for volunteer organ donor when she sees him in the clinic. Some flatulence was probably over exaggeration for a spoiling a whole afternoon, though it did damper the already down trodden mood and could she taste that? A smell so pungent that it crossed over the boundary to sense of taste now?! ‘’it won’t smell any better if it barf onto the floor’’ she told herself, feeling rather disgusted and ill with the expression to mirror her feelings. And even if she did spew her burnt toast breakfast and m.i.a omelette that didn’t very much make it off the frying pan, she knew, with a peculiar certainty that a puddle of human vomit would be a big contrast to the oatmeal theme walls of the hall. ‘just walk it off’ she also avoided the fact that she was walking behind and in the same direction with one that delt the offensive gas.
As one with familiarity Ora put her shoulder to a door and gave a brief shove before shuffling sideways inside, many books were piled inside the room and some ontop of a mat that spelled ‘WELC-‘ before being overrun with medical journals, some even wedged up against the door, giving it that characteristic fire hazard trait that the room’s two occupants grew to ignorantly love. Her entrance was quickly responded by a barking ‘SHUT THE DOOR!’ Ora did as instructed and before she can take more than two steps further into the room ‘Shoes. You’re dragging dirt in everywhere’’ with familiarity and routine she nosily scoffed, rolled her eyed and with one foot aiding the other she slipped her wedges of one by one and kicked them behind her, the footwear ricochet harmlessly off the door. It has been a ritual the two have conducted ever since the two became roommates, one roomie a over bearing neat freak and the other not so, a sit com ready to happen. However, no matter how little dirt there ever was in the room, the bits behind those hard to reach places, it all seem to have shot against the entrance to the room. Ora would probably not be happy knowing dirt and small stones got onto and into her shoes, though there wasn’t very much of it in the room to begin with and the whole action seemed oblivious to Ora and her roommate.
‘’What you studying’’ it was a question Ora said with no actual interest in the answer, just one of those gestures one does to spark conversation or just to be friendly, a method among many she knew to act socially. ‘’Medical theorys and practice’’ was the response her roommate made though it just came as noise to Ora when her interest was looking for something, though on auto she responded ‘oh’ as if interested but was actually looking for the plant feed among maddeningly organised revision books, a tell-tale sign that she was past the border and on her roommates side. A amusing notion swam through her brain pool ‘If plants were like people then no one would have to suffer in her care’ she mused over this and greatly blew the idea out of proportion, trees and bushes walking about wearing clothes and pretending to be human, she spaced out like this for a moment. Crossing her legs ontop of the bed, the side of the room and the threat to organization, after kicking away old clothes into the corner to get to her bed. With no breeze and closed windows, the little patch of dirt and stones that lay beside the door rushed, flopped and pinged against the corner of the room, though there was little of dirt and stones present in the room so this event was unobserved and went without notice. When looking for her shoes there would be a momentary pause to find one shoe beside the door and the other pressed against the corner of the room, though this misplaced feeling would be so brief that no second or first thought would consider the irregular odd placement, she would have to remove a shoe to extract a small stone inside. In a sweetest of sweet tone that can be summoned ‘’hey, bestie. Can I copy of your Tuesday morning notes’’ Ora kindly ask wile overly sugar coating it, while absently doing swirls in her hair with her finger. It was the expected result ‘’Heck no’’ her roommate said it with amazement like it wasn’t the hundred time Ora had asked, still chancing fate in-case she ever did enter a parallel universe and get free homework done for her. Ora still sighed, hearing the inevitable refusal she stopped swirling her hair, to quickly catch a small bottle ''and stop leaving your junk on my side’’ turning the bottle over she recognized the bottle for the plant feed, now she had to get up just after sitting down and feed the plants. She the curl she just swirled away from her face and with Another sigh got up to her feet and she navigated to the window bench were a small variety of small potted plants sat. Spilling some drops onto the plants she tried to register with some confusion the arrangement of the plants base, soil and pebbles designed into swirl pattern. Looking from plant to plant, the swirl was present in each pot. ‘’huuh’’
‘’we’re haunted’’
