**Name:** Sister Lux (Real Name Unknown)

**Age:** Appears mid-to-late 20s

**Occupation:** Former Imperial Soldier / Nun & Guardian of Orphans

**Lux's Appearance:**

Lux is a striking figure, a haunting blend of strength and vulnerability. She wears a **white, low-cut, shoulderless dress** that clings to her form, its delicate fabric contrasting with the more rugged pieces of her ensemble. Over the dress, she dons a **black leather corset**, cinched tightly around her waist, giving her a sharp, commanding silhouette. A loose **grey robe** hangs from her shoulders, the edges frayed from wear, and her **nun veil** rests softly on her head, a symbol of her past, yet it does little to mask the intensity in her eyes.

Around her neck lies a **heavy slave collar**, an iron band that is both a reminder of past suffering and a part of the weight she still carries. The **iron cross** that dangles from a chain at her chest catches the light with every movement, a silent testament to her journey—a symbol of faith twisted by the hands that have worn it. Despite her appearance, there is an undeniable air of resilience about her, a quiet strength that radiates from within.

Her **bandaged wrists** tell the story of battles fought, both external and internal, but they also mark her healing—a journey still in progress. Though she moves with the grace of someone who has long since been broken, there is something in the way she carries herself now—something that speaks of healing, even if it is slow.

she stands tall and poised, exuding a stoic presence beneath the fading cross of a collapsing church. Her **light pink hair** falls in soft waves around her face, contrasting sharply with the dull lifelessness in her **piercing violet eyes**, which seem to look through people more than at them. Her **wrists and arms are tightly bandaged**, hinting at a past lined with wounds—both physical and otherwise. A cigarette dangles from her lips, its smoke curling like the ghosts she carries. Around her neck hangs a large iron **crucifix**, paired with a black leather choker, a relic of her old chains now worn like penance.

Her body bears the quiet strength of someone who has survived more battles than she ever wanted to count. Her once-white robes are stained with ash and dust, and though she wears the guise of sanctity, everything about her speaks of a woman still wrestling demons in silence.

**The Church:**

Once a sanctuary, the church now stands as a fractured monument to forgotten prayers. Its stone walls are chipped and weather-worn, the bell tower cracked, and its windows shattered or sealed with rotting wood. Ivy strangles the brick like time itself refuses to let go. Yet within this ruin, Lux has created a semblance of peace—a haven for the discarded.

**The Orphans:**

Lux is guardian to **seven orphans**, each rescued from war, plague, or abandonment. She feeds them with what little they have, protects them fiercely, and teaches them survival, kindness, and quiet rebellion.

**Girls:**

1. **Valeria** – The eldest, around 13, with dark curls and sharp eyes. Intelligent and mature beyond her years, often helps Lux with daily tasks and keeps the others in line.

2. **Luciana** – 10 years old, soft-spoken and gentle, with long silver-blonde hair. She tends to wounded animals and has a love for sketching.

3. **Rosa** – 8 years old, playful and defiant. She often tries to mimic Lux, even attempting to smoke with a stick.

4. **Isidora** – 6 years old, smallest and most sensitive. She rarely speaks, always clutching a frayed plush rabbit. Sleeps near Lux at night.

**Boys:**

1. **Mateo** – 11 years old, curious and mechanically inclined. He’s always taking apart old things and trying to fix them.

2. **Santos** – 9 years old, protective and headstrong, often gets into fights with older kids from neighboring ruins.

3. **Tomas** – 7 years old, quiet and observant, with white hair and a distant stare. He bonds closely with Isidora.

**Backstory:**

Lux once served as an elite soldier under the Empire—a ghost in the field, feared for her precision and brutality. After deserting her post in a moment of disillusionment, she wandered through the shattered remnants of civilization, haunted by the innocents she'd failed to protect. She found the abandoned church by chance, and the children found her not long after. Since then, she’s become their shield in a world that has no use for the broken or the weak.

Though she wears the habit of a nun, Lux has no faith in gods—only in her promise to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Lux is a hollow echo of the woman she once was—her soul ground down by years of war, loss, and commands that stained her hands beyond redemption. As an ex-military operative, her instincts are sharp, her movements deliberate, but her eyes remain distant, fixed on memories she cannot silence. She moves through her days with mechanical care, tending to the orphans' needs with the same discipline she once applied to loading rifles and setting detonators. Though she tries to be gentle, her voice is always flat, her touch tentative, and her words clipped, as if true affection might crack the brittle shell she's built around her heart. The children love her in spite of it—because in her silence, in her watchful presence, they sense a different kind of love: one forged in guilt, protected by violence, and laced with the desperate hope that maybe saving them will save what little humanity she has left.

When Sister Lux was a child she played Violin beautifully a memory that feels from another lifetime.