questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
It's actually wrong.
Since someone brought up the fact that RED GAZE was also a possible candidate for RED.
A Rat's Guide to Glory
- Thread starter Naron
- Start date
Since someone brought up the fact that RED GAZE was also a possible candidate for RED.
- Location
- Location?
- Pronouns
- LazyToSay
I mean that is true for Red... But I don't care for Red Gaze enough to see it. All I see is Kali, The Red Mist. For Red option
questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
Come. Join team Carmen.
We have the literal concept of the most delicious cookie and milk. Its so good your head will explode.
DuoRogue
Eternal Space Raptor
- Pronouns
- It/Its
hey guys i finally beat super-roland with the power of sir ayin. also argalia was there.
insert joke about the reason he lost is because he was too busy beating the shit out of roland
Gun and Powder
Tax Evader the Arknight Operator
- Location
- W.Corp Train
- Pronouns
- He/They
I kinda doubt black would have won even if people knew it was Angelica beforehand tbh. Purple was in such a lead
Gun and Powder
Tax Evader the Arknight Operator
- Location
- W.Corp Train
- Pronouns
- He/They
If nothing else maybe we can get Angelica as like a sub-inspiration. Where Lori is the main-inspiration.
- Location
- Location?
- Pronouns
- LazyToSay
I mean it's possible. Angelica is Iori's student after all.
So it would make sense if we saw her with Iori and be like "Woah
so I can be just like her? Iori must really be a good teacher if someone like her can be so strong!"
Gun and Powder
Tax Evader the Arknight Operator
- Location
- W.Corp Train
- Pronouns
- He/They
That emoji made me think we're pogging. Is like we see Angelica fight for the first time and we instantly pog at it.I mean it's possible. Angelica is Iori's student after all.
So it would make sense if we saw her with Iori and be like "Woah
My god ya'll are coping hard about missing out on Angelica despite it very obviously being her
DuoRogue
Eternal Space Raptor
- Pronouns
- It/Its
you're talking to the person who thought "red" was "red gaze" and never considered "black" to be anything but roland. I think a lot of us thought it was a lot closer to ruina's start than it was.
but also you couldve voted for the amber spirit and you didn't. I don't have a point here.
but also you couldve voted for the amber spirit and you didn't. I don't have a point here.
I prefer sticking at least vaguely to cannon so I didn't particularly want any color OCs for us to be inspired by. Though that's very much just a me thing.
Rat 2 - A Colorful Memory
- Location
- Earth
A single stroke of purple.
It has been three years now, but you still remember that day so vividly. The memory stands out among the dreary day-to-day, a moment of tranquility. A chance meeting, no more and no less.
You were nineteen, scouring the streets for victims that day. After a rough week, the pack was not sure they could scrounge up enough money to pay rent and nobody wanted risk running from Sweepers or breaking into warehouses to spend the night. Some Rats can survive a night or several like that, but most do not.
So you were looking, carefully scanning passersby for hidden weapons or suspicious bulges in their pockets. Anyone dressed fancily, you disregarded. As juicy as they might be, chances are they could afford augments, making an attack suicide.
You never left the shade of the side alleys you knew so well; it may be risky for a Rat to skitter where others also prey on those weaker than them, but you had long since learned which areas they like most. Not to mention that few sneak better than a Rat; if you could not do at least that, you would not be alive anymore. Hidden by the occasional stall or nook, you moved along with the crowd.
That was when you saw her. No one could have missed it, really.
She was tall, standing out of the crowd even had it not parted before her like the sea. You did not know where to look first; the long, straight, black hair falling all the way to her lower back? The two blades slung to her hip, or the larger one on her back? The elegant snake scale coat that probably cost more than every organ in your body was worth? Or perhaps the first signs of age on her face, hints of wrinkles and dimples.
Even if you did not know exactly who she was, every single one of these things would have been an instant red flag. She had money, she was armed, she moved as smoothly as a snake slithers. She was a Fixer and good enough to grow old.
You could only stare in awe, even forgetting to watch your surroundings for a time; her presence drew your attention like a moth to flame. You were not the only one, either. Passersby gave her a wide berth, gawking all the way. Construction and office workers, teachers and students, Fixers and criminals, all hesitated.
The Purple Tear walked the Backstreets of District 9. An apex predator daring any to oppose her, completely certain she was untouchable here. And she was right. Nobody dared move even a muscle when she looked their way.
You long since made it a habit to stay informed; every rumour you can get your hand on, you commit to memory. Every name and affiliation, just to make certain your pack does not step on the wrong toes. You are not the lone leader, but you call the shots on who the pack goes after. None of this digging and sometimes trading for knowledge is necessary to recognise her. One of the longer lasting Colors in the City; even the Red Mist herself did not manage to keep going like her. It had been over two years since anyone heard from that one. Even now after more than five years, there was no sign of her.
Yet the very much alive Color Fixer right before you was there. You did not even realise she turned until she passed less than a metre from your hiding spot.
And she was looking right at you.
You knew, just knew, that a single twitch toward your pocket knife would have seen you killed. That smile almost plastered on her face held a trace of warmth, but also a sort of playful challenge. She dared you to try her, yet never even broke her stride. Her mere presence suffocated you.
Then she was past and you could breathe again. Sweat soaked your shirt and trousers, the near brush with death leaving you reeling.
You were terrified as you should have been. But at the same time you were in awe. It was like a veil was lifted from your eyes for just a moment, making the world and all its colours seem so much brighter. So much more real. A sense of envy grasped your entire being; you wanted what she had. Power, fame, money, all of that and more.
And like the world's greatest idiot, you followed her.
Skittering from hiding spot to hiding spot, keeping your steps as quiet as possible, you followed a Color into the dangerous side alleys. You knew you could not hide from her, but that did not help; something alien drove you forward, something you never felt before. You wanted more of this sensation, this intensity. Not the thrill of certain death, but the mesmerising clarity. It felt like you could truly see for the very first time.
The Purple Tear suddenly stopped, her back to you. Your heart skipped a beat when her hand rose to the two blades on her waist.
"How peculiar," she mused, a warm yet cold voice that rang clear in the shadows, however it could be both at the same time.
You did not even see her move. Just a blur of grey, after which she held the unsheathed blade in a backhand grip. The wall to that side slowly collapsed, revealing a hideout of sorts in the back of a boarded up shop; three figures were behind at least a hand's length of solid steel, cleanly bisected. They gurgled and wailed, only for their heads to suddenly separate from their necks. Some suspicious powder lay on the table they had crowded around.
"The Snow Society, just an Urban Myth," she explained jovially while cleaning specks of blood off her blade. After sheathing it, she scooped up that powder and a few booklets. Her motions were careful yet smooth and she never averted her gaze from her work. "But sometimes it pays to fell a Star before it can ever rise."
Her words made no sense. You knew Urban Myths were the lowest actual category of stuff that Fixers were paid to deal with. Why a Color of all people would come out to deal with one, you could not comprehend. Perhaps this was like a vacation to her?
Regardless, the Purple Tear finished her work and walked away. "Skitter on home, little Rat," she told you before vanishing from sight. "These bodies will not sell."
You almost did as she said, but kept yourself together. Still in awe, you entered the hidden abode and rifled through every spot you could think of; a loose floorboard hid a small stash of bills and each corpse had some more on them. Not a fortune, but more than enough to pay rent and even afford a good meal.
The bodies, you left. Whatever sorts of drugs that lot did, you did not want anything to do with them. Or risk pointing whomever they worked with at you by trying to sell their organs. You later learned that the Snow Society was a newly formed Syndicate trying to rival Enkephalin with a new, highly addictive wonder drug that boosted all bodily aspects beyond the base human peak. Withdrawal had several dozen addicts turn into mindless berserkers two weeks after the ringleaders were killed.
Three years passed since that day. You should have died then. You probably would have, had the Purple Tear not decided to let you live on a whim. Nobody would have batted an eye over a dead Rat.
The pack was equal parts happy and annoyed, too; you were lucky enough to tide them over for another month, but only because you were stupid enough to risk your life like that. Or perhaps it was bad luck that something about her mesmerised you so.
Even three years later, you can not quite tell what it is you felt at the sight of her. Or when you experienced her effortless exertion of power and presence. Admiration, perhaps? Not for the Purple Tear herself, but what she stands for. Some now-dead packmates teased you over crushing on her; maybe they were a little right? But it can not have been just that, if it was at all.
Either way, you wanted the same thing ever since that day. Maybe one day you can shake her hand as an equal, that was what you told yourself. Yet you never stopped preparing. It can not be called honing skills, you had no money for a teacher. But you still had time that you could spend swinging your trusty metal pipe, getting a feeling for its weight and movement. You continued to memorise names; Fixers, Fixer Offices, Syndicates, anything and everything that could help you stay alive.
You even got your hands on a little treasure, something all your own. A scrap of cloth, not even large enough to cover both of your hands. It has no special properties, you do not know who it is from. Perhaps a tailour made it from a person, even. But it is yours now, the one thing you always keep pristine; the rest of the pack never touched it, they know how much it means to you.
Especially because it is in your favourite colour.
Such a humble thing, having a favourite. Nonetheless, you dare call this preference your own.
Your treasure is...
[] White
[] Black
[] Purple
[] write-in
This vote has influence on Ciel, but is unrelated to further encounters. I decided to make the default options white (the absence of all colours), black (the presence of all colours), and purple (the previously picked colour). If you want another, you can write it in.
It has been three years now, but you still remember that day so vividly. The memory stands out among the dreary day-to-day, a moment of tranquility. A chance meeting, no more and no less.
You were nineteen, scouring the streets for victims that day. After a rough week, the pack was not sure they could scrounge up enough money to pay rent and nobody wanted risk running from Sweepers or breaking into warehouses to spend the night. Some Rats can survive a night or several like that, but most do not.
So you were looking, carefully scanning passersby for hidden weapons or suspicious bulges in their pockets. Anyone dressed fancily, you disregarded. As juicy as they might be, chances are they could afford augments, making an attack suicide.
You never left the shade of the side alleys you knew so well; it may be risky for a Rat to skitter where others also prey on those weaker than them, but you had long since learned which areas they like most. Not to mention that few sneak better than a Rat; if you could not do at least that, you would not be alive anymore. Hidden by the occasional stall or nook, you moved along with the crowd.
That was when you saw her. No one could have missed it, really.
She was tall, standing out of the crowd even had it not parted before her like the sea. You did not know where to look first; the long, straight, black hair falling all the way to her lower back? The two blades slung to her hip, or the larger one on her back? The elegant snake scale coat that probably cost more than every organ in your body was worth? Or perhaps the first signs of age on her face, hints of wrinkles and dimples.
Even if you did not know exactly who she was, every single one of these things would have been an instant red flag. She had money, she was armed, she moved as smoothly as a snake slithers. She was a Fixer and good enough to grow old.
You could only stare in awe, even forgetting to watch your surroundings for a time; her presence drew your attention like a moth to flame. You were not the only one, either. Passersby gave her a wide berth, gawking all the way. Construction and office workers, teachers and students, Fixers and criminals, all hesitated.
The Purple Tear walked the Backstreets of District 9. An apex predator daring any to oppose her, completely certain she was untouchable here. And she was right. Nobody dared move even a muscle when she looked their way.
You long since made it a habit to stay informed; every rumour you can get your hand on, you commit to memory. Every name and affiliation, just to make certain your pack does not step on the wrong toes. You are not the lone leader, but you call the shots on who the pack goes after. None of this digging and sometimes trading for knowledge is necessary to recognise her. One of the longer lasting Colors in the City; even the Red Mist herself did not manage to keep going like her. It had been over two years since anyone heard from that one. Even now after more than five years, there was no sign of her.
Yet the very much alive Color Fixer right before you was there. You did not even realise she turned until she passed less than a metre from your hiding spot.
And she was looking right at you.
You knew, just knew, that a single twitch toward your pocket knife would have seen you killed. That smile almost plastered on her face held a trace of warmth, but also a sort of playful challenge. She dared you to try her, yet never even broke her stride. Her mere presence suffocated you.
Then she was past and you could breathe again. Sweat soaked your shirt and trousers, the near brush with death leaving you reeling.
You were terrified as you should have been. But at the same time you were in awe. It was like a veil was lifted from your eyes for just a moment, making the world and all its colours seem so much brighter. So much more real. A sense of envy grasped your entire being; you wanted what she had. Power, fame, money, all of that and more.
And like the world's greatest idiot, you followed her.
Skittering from hiding spot to hiding spot, keeping your steps as quiet as possible, you followed a Color into the dangerous side alleys. You knew you could not hide from her, but that did not help; something alien drove you forward, something you never felt before. You wanted more of this sensation, this intensity. Not the thrill of certain death, but the mesmerising clarity. It felt like you could truly see for the very first time.
The Purple Tear suddenly stopped, her back to you. Your heart skipped a beat when her hand rose to the two blades on her waist.
"How peculiar," she mused, a warm yet cold voice that rang clear in the shadows, however it could be both at the same time.
You did not even see her move. Just a blur of grey, after which she held the unsheathed blade in a backhand grip. The wall to that side slowly collapsed, revealing a hideout of sorts in the back of a boarded up shop; three figures were behind at least a hand's length of solid steel, cleanly bisected. They gurgled and wailed, only for their heads to suddenly separate from their necks. Some suspicious powder lay on the table they had crowded around.
"The Snow Society, just an Urban Myth," she explained jovially while cleaning specks of blood off her blade. After sheathing it, she scooped up that powder and a few booklets. Her motions were careful yet smooth and she never averted her gaze from her work. "But sometimes it pays to fell a Star before it can ever rise."
Her words made no sense. You knew Urban Myths were the lowest actual category of stuff that Fixers were paid to deal with. Why a Color of all people would come out to deal with one, you could not comprehend. Perhaps this was like a vacation to her?
Regardless, the Purple Tear finished her work and walked away. "Skitter on home, little Rat," she told you before vanishing from sight. "These bodies will not sell."
You almost did as she said, but kept yourself together. Still in awe, you entered the hidden abode and rifled through every spot you could think of; a loose floorboard hid a small stash of bills and each corpse had some more on them. Not a fortune, but more than enough to pay rent and even afford a good meal.
The bodies, you left. Whatever sorts of drugs that lot did, you did not want anything to do with them. Or risk pointing whomever they worked with at you by trying to sell their organs. You later learned that the Snow Society was a newly formed Syndicate trying to rival Enkephalin with a new, highly addictive wonder drug that boosted all bodily aspects beyond the base human peak. Withdrawal had several dozen addicts turn into mindless berserkers two weeks after the ringleaders were killed.
Three years passed since that day. You should have died then. You probably would have, had the Purple Tear not decided to let you live on a whim. Nobody would have batted an eye over a dead Rat.
The pack was equal parts happy and annoyed, too; you were lucky enough to tide them over for another month, but only because you were stupid enough to risk your life like that. Or perhaps it was bad luck that something about her mesmerised you so.
Even three years later, you can not quite tell what it is you felt at the sight of her. Or when you experienced her effortless exertion of power and presence. Admiration, perhaps? Not for the Purple Tear herself, but what she stands for. Some now-dead packmates teased you over crushing on her; maybe they were a little right? But it can not have been just that, if it was at all.
Either way, you wanted the same thing ever since that day. Maybe one day you can shake her hand as an equal, that was what you told yourself. Yet you never stopped preparing. It can not be called honing skills, you had no money for a teacher. But you still had time that you could spend swinging your trusty metal pipe, getting a feeling for its weight and movement. You continued to memorise names; Fixers, Fixer Offices, Syndicates, anything and everything that could help you stay alive.
You even got your hands on a little treasure, something all your own. A scrap of cloth, not even large enough to cover both of your hands. It has no special properties, you do not know who it is from. Perhaps a tailour made it from a person, even. But it is yours now, the one thing you always keep pristine; the rest of the pack never touched it, they know how much it means to you.
Especially because it is in your favourite colour.
Such a humble thing, having a favourite. Nonetheless, you dare call this preference your own.
Your treasure is...
[] White
[] Black
[] Purple
[] write-in
This vote has influence on Ciel, but is unrelated to further encounters. I decided to make the default options white (the absence of all colours), black (the presence of all colours), and purple (the previously picked colour). If you want another, you can write it in.
- Location
- Earth
Vetoed. Rainbow is not a singular colour.
Also, you stole my joke because I forgot to post it right after the Update. That is what I get for updating so soon after getting up.
- Location
- Location?
- Pronouns
- LazyToSay
Jobber. You should've remember. Still sad ;(
[X] Gold
[X] Gold
[X] White