The wisdom on your face
Denies the number of your years
With the fingers of the potter
And the laughing tale of the fool
The arranger of disorder
With your strange and simple rules
Suzanne Vega
Vital Statistics
Name: Remy Tsura Ionitsa
Birthplace: Bucharest, Romania
Date of Birth: October 29, 1982
Parents: Nadya Ionitsa (Mother), Milosh Ionitsa (Father)
Occupation: Currently, none
Marital Status: Separated
Tribe: Shadow Lord
All the Best Lies
Well, the best of them - they start with "once upon a time" and end with "happily ever after." Seems like only yesterday, in a bit of mud, a few lumps of grass, a tangle of messy underbrush, and a smattering of RVs, trailers, and shacks, Remy entered the world in the standard way - with someone else's pain and blood and screaming. She was born to the Ţigani lăutari just outside Bucharest. She grew into a wide and wild-eyed imp in that camp, surrounded with the sort of music that resonated in your bones. The violin, the cobza, clarinet, and tárogató. The chaotic, mad joy of it.
But that madness melted into another one. The mad world at the end of Nicolae Ceaușescu's final years in power. He ordered the export of much of the country's agricultural and industrial production in order to repay its debts and made the life of Romanians a fight for survival - food rationing and blackouts. Breadlines in front of empty stores. And as the rest of the country were forced to eke out a meager existence, this band on the edge of poverty in times of plenty, had to make due with less. Bellies aching with emptiness and a much-loved target of Securitate raids. Her mother was one of the disappeared - of which there were many, courtesy of the secret police.
This, Too, Shall Pass
The music was gone, and Remy was a scruffy kid, traveling with her dad to America and all that opportunity and freedom they seem to be so keen on. His cousins had been running a carnival for the span of a few years, dragging a motley band of animals, a few sketchy, but delightfully dangerous rides, and work enough to lose yourself in. And her father, he wanted to be lost. And life, it had a rhythm, even if it had lost much of the music. Set up, give them show enough to find our way to the next town, and tear down, leaving the lingering imprint of the Ferris wheel on the grass, and the smell of corndogs and elephant ears. Remy didn't have a formal education - with the cursive writing, and calculus. But she knew how to fix the Tilt-O-Whirl, and make the best damn popcorn this side of Tuscaloosa. She knew how bribe city officials, and snag the best deal from vendors. How to part a man with too much of his paycheck, and leave him only a colossal stuffed animal to show for it. She knew how to be freer than those flashy bits of feathers in the sky.
And then, there was him. Mr. Dark and Handsome who could stand so alone in a crowd, they parted around him. As if they sensed the fur he hid underneath his skin. Remy sensed it too, in that part of her that knew danger, and chased after it like a cop in pursuit of his first cup of coffee. He'd run away from responsibility and expectations and found her, engaging in that game teenagers know of thinking they had a whole life they could have together after one night talking until dawn. He ran away a little further with her, to the justice of the peace in Hartford, KY and got a piece of paper claiming they had a forever in the cards. Her father welcomed Marek to their merry band and they had one week of forever, before his un-merry little band rained on their carnival.
Rumors
- Remy left her husband, and has been on the run ever since.
- She left a child with her aging father to be raised, and it isn't her husband's.
- She's got piles of cash hidden away, and she won't say where it's from.
- She is restoring a haunted mansion down in New Orleans, and she knows far too many secrets since she started.
OOC Info
Player: NPC
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