To be a Bone Maiden is to be misunderstood.  We are apart by our nature. Customs of our practice dictate that it remain so.  We are abnormal.  We are super-natural.  We are extra-ordinary. 

We are beyond the knowing of normal ones who yet walk the earth, we Bone Maidens.  We dwell instead in times not yet unfolded, shrouded in the mists of the amniotic sea.  On our breasts, we nurse a secret sacred legacy of long dead days, even as we carry the bones of their dead bodies from the fields of carrion and excarnation. For unto us doth it fall to commend the souls when breath has ended; to perform the sacred rituals that follow death into the Sacred Vortex and out to incarnation, in the holy cycle of Ninsinanna of One Thousand Names.  Take heed, ye Bone Maidens yet to come. Thy burden shall be heavy.

Thou shalt know us from our dress: red as blood and black as ash, or no dress at all. When our days on soil and under sky are done, we simply disappear. Our job, you see, is the transfer of life.  Our power is very threatening to some.  There are those who would try to harness it. 

(Translated by Elsie)