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sumeru-academy · 2 years ago

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M.U.S.E. Event Case 002. La Signora X Female Reader.

◇ Report submitted by: Moderator Alice on ▇▇▇▇.

death, descriptions of gore, burning / immolation.

CASE FILE. MUSE-002

CLASS. SIREN

SEVERITY. 7 / 10

DESCRIPTION. Along the shoreline of Falcon Coast, reports of dead bodies floating atop the water were filed beginning ▇▇▇▇, with frequency increasing the week of ▇▇▇▇. Observations showed that many of the bodies retrieved from sea resembled sailors that previously went missing. Personnel reported sounds of singing before suddenly going MIA on M.U.S.E. radars.

"Severity level seven."

The man slid the file across the desk until it was in front of you. He seemed distraught, his scarlet eyes looking troubled as he stared down at the dark oak. And yet, the little manila folder seemed so simple and neat compared to his devastated demeanor.

"This level seven has already killed four of our troops," he exasperatedly sighed. "Last one on this case went missing; wound up dead this morning."

The death of your coworkers was not unfamiliar to you, but four was rather plenty from a single entity. With the training and experience M.U.S.E. personnel possessed, it would only take two at most to strike down a level seven, or one high ranking officer like yourself. You could only imagine what the casualty count of regular civilians was.

"Falcon Coast," he said. "Urgent. Drop all your other cases."

"And I'm the only one on this case, Ragnvindr?" You raised an eyebrow at him, thinking how this creature should probably be bumped up another level in severity. "After four of us drop dead, you deploy only me?"

"Besides the fact you're a high ranker," Diluc explained, "I have a feeling you'll be more efficient, you can say."

"Feelings don't matter in a job where we kill monsters."

A long pause—you were baffled at this case. Sirens were usually a level five, and six would be pushing it. Those mermaidlike creatures were alluring, yes; But once a M.U.S.E. soldier approaches, knowing fully well of a siren's tricks, the monster is easy to exterminate.

But a single siren able to kill four of your peers...

You wondered how incompetent or sleazily lustful they must have been.

"I can offer you no other officer at the moment," Diluc finally sighed. "And I fear any lower ranking troops will only be deadweight to you." With his elbows on the table and his hands propping up his head, he solidified his decision for your mission. "You will begin this case today, and I will not supply you with a partner."

He was unmoving in this, and you had no other choice but to agree. As if finalizing the conversation, the man pushed the palm of his hand forward, rolling an item towards you. Of course, every case under Diluc always required one of these. A metal brander, one that pressed scorching heat onto any surface, leaving the M.U.S.E. insignia in its wake.

Diluc distributed them for the means of marking the body of an anomaly once they were dead, similar to a manufacturer stamping a company logo on its products. But this symbolized the completion of a case file, and tag for final disposal.

You pocketed the device without a word, then stared back at your assigner. He held dead seriousness in his eyes, and you knew you were about to be dismissed.

But as always, he gave you one final command: to perform a deed for humanity and exactly what M.U.S.E. stood for.

"Kill the anomaly at all costs."

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Falcon Coast, midnight.

The waters were pitch black, only the sounds of waves allowing their vast presence to be known.

At this hour, the sand was cold beneath your feet—not that you could feel it, but grains stuck to your shoelaces as if begging you to turn back. You felt a little breathless. In a place so calm and airy as the shoreline, your thick uniform felt suffocating.

Perhaps it was the near-moonless night that made you feel this way. Barely an ounce of light was gifted to you by the Gods, as if casting misfortune on your death day.

But Gods did not exist in a land where monsters roamed.

You did not pray for luck or for blessings; Instead, you desired. Desired, like any human in this world did.

A mindset such as that was all that was left in a world with no Gods. You desired to go home, for one. To do that, you needed to complete your mission, which you also desired to do. And to even achieve that, you desired to kill your target.

Most of all, of course, you desired to live.

Just like any human did.

A melodious hum in the air, and for a moment, you weren't quite sure if it was the wind or maybe even a stray animal.

It was strange to you, for this was not your first time encountering a siren. These creatures always sang of riches and lust; And in a job where your life was constantly busy with death and anomalies, you couldn't find the time to even wish for either. Disinterest was an advantage you carried, and so you had no worries of ever drowning to baited desire.

But this was different. The voice ringing in your head did not sing of such things. Rather, it sang words you couldn't quite discern. The sound was light, and even airier than the midnight beach’s breeze that broke at your uniform.

There was a certain sweetness that drew you closer. If you did not know any better, then perhaps you would have fallen by now, snapped and drowned by this monster by the rocks of the coast.

A sudden weight was thrown onto you, and you found your back hitting the ground. Cold sand immediately poured down and tickled your face, and you winced—until you realized you were still able to breathe. It was then you figured this was not sand, but instead silk locks of hair that were remarkably similar in color.

One singular flash of light, and your hands flew up to grip it on instinct.

When you opened your eyes, all you saw was shining silver.

Silver lied in the blade of the dagger that hung centimeters away from the skin of your neck, a color that would kill you if you let go of her hands. Silver lied in the gleam of the moon, finally parting from its hiding place behind the clouds at a destined time like this. And, silver lied in the colors of her eyes.

Those passionate eyes that pierced you with more violence than her dagger could ever.

"Well, you're certainly fast," you say to her. It's the first attempt you make at conversation, and you're already annoying her with the way your lips curl into some casual smile. All the while, her body is over your own, trying to kill you.

Her hands shake against your hold in an attempt to push the dagger down harder.

"Shut it," she hisses in frustration.

You can't help but notice how pretty she is under the uncovered moonlight, but you knew better. This job was not unfamiliar to you, after all. You used what you owned as an advantage—namely, your legs—to knee her off of you, sending her falling to her side.

With only a mermaidlike tail to assist, the creature lost her balance, holding the dagger for dear life as she stumbled.

She looked towards you as you got up, and that was when you saw it in her eyes.

Unadulterated fear.

But how could she, a severity level seven monster, be so fearful of you—you, who was but a mortal human?

When you approached her, she kept her eyes trained on you. The creature pointed the dagger up at your standing figure, though her arms were as shaky as the night's winds. Her knuckles paled a deadly white even more ghostly than the moon, for the grip she held on her dagger was enough to keep you cautious.

It was she who attacked you first on this lonely night. She—whose hair blended with the sand, whose skin fared against the moonlight, whose face depicted but a frightful soul—tried to kill you. But it didn't seem out of pleasure, no; instead the action appeared to stem from desperation.

"I sensed your desire," she breathed out lowly, as if answering your unspoken question.

This was nothing uncommon, however, as it was a trait natural to sirens. Every human had desire; it was a weakness taken advantage of by these creatures. Lust, pride, greed—they sang of such yearnings to lure in their next kill. In spite, you desired no such commodities, so what really struck unusual was her demeanor.

"Your desire..." she called out as she scurried back again, "to kill me."

To kill her... That was your job, and of course, your current desire. M.U.S.E. soldiers exterminated any anomaly they deemed alien to the mortal world. The mermaidlike tail she had instead of legs, the alluring sweetness in her voice, the scales that littered her abdomen—all marks of a creature that did not belong.

And yet, amidst this lonely night, under the luminous moon, did it finally hit you. That look in her silver eyes, a danger that could rival the gleam of the stars. In it, you ultimately realized.

She only desired to live.

Just like any human did.

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You weren't quite sure why you left her alone last night.

Falcon Coast tonight was the same as the last, and it only reminded you of the way her arms faltered once you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your uniform pants. Her face had contorted into one of pure confusion, as if her mind was scrambling to figure out what you were doing.

She made no sound when you walked off, leaving her to drown alone in the uncertainty of the ocean's waters.

But tonight, you were back, and this time, you planned on talking to her. You only hoped she wasn't as frantic as before.

The vibrato ringing against your ears sang of different desires this time. It sang of love and passion, of riches and greed. It sang the words a siren would normally chant, and so you were indifferent to the sickly sweetened words that promised a future that did not exist.

If not for the recognizable voice, you would've thought this was a different siren. However, the way in which she sang could only imply one thing on a night as still as this.

"Sir, please do not take another step!"

The lonesome sailor on the beach was already dipping his feet in the water, seeming to be drawn by the gracious voice. You have seen this countless times before already—this man was so close to the waves of death that you bolted the moment you realized he hadn't heard you. His mind only swarmed with the voice of that silver eyed woman you met last before the rising dawn.

He was clouded with his own desire, one that lured him towards the depths of the sea, and one that ultimately sent you pulling him back by his collar away from the shore. The man yelled as he came to his senses; he scrambled up from the sand with widened eyes.

"Leave this place immediately," was all you commanded, and once the moonlight shone against the metal insignia on your uniform, he knew better than to disobey.

You felt a set of hands suddenly grasp at your ankles, before they suddenly pulled. The cuffs of your pants became drenched against the cold waves, and your shoes grew heavy from the rush of water. Immediately, you prepared yourself for the worst—closing your eyes and readying your arms in preparation to fight this siren from pulling you into the sea and drowning you.

Except, the feel of saltwater never came. Instead, the waves never slid past your ankles, though they were still being held down in a sitting position by this creature.

"You're lucky you're a pretty woman."

You opened your eyes to find that same siren from last night, still piercing you with her glare alone. But now that she was in front of you, with the light behind her back, you couldn't help but think the silver of her eyes were much more remarkable than the glow of the moon itself. Nothing could compare, not even when stands of her silk hair fell in front of her face.

A complete contrast to the last midnight. Instead of a dagger to your throat, there was only her grip on your ankles. Even the waves that kissed your shoes were gentle as you sat in the sand, faced right in front of the deadly waters. She laid in front of you on her stomach, the sand surrounding her body as if she was one with the shoreline itself. Her tail rested in the moving waters, but her upper body bent up to meet your eyes.

You responded, "I don't believe my physical attributes have relevance as to why you aren't attempting to stab or drown me this time."

"Isn't it obvious, M.U.S.E. soldier?" she scoffed, and you quickly realized she was familiar with your organization and its purpose. "I can sense you no longer carry the desire to kill me."

You stayed quiet at that; and at this moment, under the embrace of the moonlit waves, she looked supernaturally divine.

"But I'm... confused," she continued, brows furrowing in a look of genuine perplexity. "Your desire was to get rid of me the last time you appeared, but then it changed." She seemed nervous for a moment, and it was obvious in the way her grip tightened on your ankles that you baffled her. "And now, it's different again."

"Would it be so absurd if I said I didn't want to kill you?" For now, at least.

"Yes," she responded with a glare, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Before you could react, her hands immediately pulled your body closer with a strength that could only belong to a monster like her. She settled closer atop the sand between your legs, trapping you in her shoreline of song. "All M.U.S.E. soldiers that crossed this shoreline have tried to kill me."

For a moment, you feel pity. And perhaps it was then that you forgot she was a siren for just a fraction of a second. It felt like a slap in the face—to be a high ranking official in exterminating monsters, and yet this one anomaly made you forget she was, in fact, not human at all.

"Is that where you obtained that dagger," you asked, though it was spoken more like a continued thought. "I could tell it belonged to my organization."

She paused for a second in slight surprise, before answering, "Yes... I stole it off the second soldier that tried to kill me..."

You stayed silent, though it was mostly due to your thoughts wandering to where such a dagger was. She held it so tightly last time in attempts to murder you, but now, it was nowhere to be seen. Her hands held securely at your legs, and you doubted she had the ability to hide it in her tail.

"I don't get it." After a moment, the frustration was clear in her voice, and it was even more evident in the way her glare resumed at you. "Why do you still have no desire to get rid of me? Did you not see how I tried to kill a man just as you arrived?"

"It sounds like you know you're doing a bad thing," was all you said.

She reluctantly replied, "I'm not asking for your validation, but... He was married, he had a ring on." You weren't quite sure if she was explaining herself, or excusing her actions. "And yet he still came for me," she grew quieter, "just like all those other sailors at sea..."

When she trailed off, you noticed her eyes didn't quite meet your own anymore. Only the sounds of midnight's waves rang through your ears now; and as the water soaked through your pants, you leaned forward. The skin of her face was soft when you held it, unlike the dryness that saltwater left nor like the scales on her tail. She was surprised, but still made no move when your other hand combed through the locks of her side bangs—it was as smooth as you imagined last night, she was beautiful.

"Is there something I can call you?" you asked her gently, and it looked as if she fell in seconds.

Sterling silver looked up at you with a genuine curiosity, as if your lack of hostility was something she had never encountered before. Your touch seemed foreign to a monster like her—it was one she froze from in breathless delight, warmer than the waters of her home in the sea.

"Rosalyne."

Her murmur. It was trusting. You thought it was such a shame that an anomaly could have such a pretty name and a gentle soul.

"My name is Rosalyne."

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You thanked your high ranking position in the organization, otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten away with seeing her again and again every day for the next week or more. Actually, you couldn’t tell how long it has been anymore.

"A metal brander?!" Rosalyne winced one night, hands flying up to cover her mouth. "He sounds so uptight to be distributing something so unnecessary like that!"

"He is," you sighed at the time. "I don't work under Ragnvindr often, but I still don't like him. He's so particular about certain things..."

She seemed to think for a second, before moving to ramble, "You know..." She spoke to you of fire and of burn marks, of chemical reactions and of bonds you never expected a siren to know—the most nerdy and scientific of explanations. But you could hear her go on and on for hours.

It was probably lonely at sea with no one to talk to.

She was just as pretty in the daytime as she was at night, if not, then even more lively than you imagined. Her voice was melodious, too; hearing it in her natural volume felt like you were conversing with a regular person at times.

On some days, you sit behind the rocks far off the coast, away from the public eye in the blinding daylight. You love to dangle your legs off the edge into the water, and more often than not, Rosalyne's taken the habit of laying her head on your lap. It's a natural kind of intimacy, one where she finds comfort in the way your fingers brush through her hair, and the way the ocean's movement flows with the rest of her body underwater.

When she looks up at you in this new light, you find a whole new part of her to uncover.

On the night you met, her eyes were like the silver of her stolen dagger. And now, they seemed to paint the colors of the ocean.

A light, pale blue that almost blended with the seafoam of the coastline. It crashed into you like waves, and you feel you may never resurface. But, it was a new color you found yourself loving alongside silver.

"Hm..." you hummed one gentle morning as she laid soundly on your lap, playing with the fingers of one of your hands. "Rosey."

"...Rosey?" she echoed.

"For one, it sounds like your name," you explained rather simply. "Second, you always have such cute, rosy cheeks." You freed your hands from her own grasp, moving to lift her face from your lap so you could hold both her cheeks. "Aw, look. They've turned redder."

"St-Stop it!"

Her hands shot up to grab at your own, attempting to remove them from your face. But she stopped so suddenly, her eyes darting to the side in curiosity when her thumb brushed over a bump in your wrist.

"What's this?" she asked, moving your arm so that it faced upwards. While one of her hands held your palm, the other was caressing over a—

Oh.

"It's a... tracker," you answered simply. "You get it surgically placed once you start working for the organization." Then you trailed your other hand up your arm, stopping right above her own fingers to a certain part of your wrist. "They place it near the pulse, which gets tracked, as well."

"So... Every soldier has one here...?"

"Not quite," you explained. "Due to more recent advanced technology, newer personnel have them near their neck pulse"—you felt her wince—"but I'm an older recruit."

She stayed silent at this revelation, supposedly because she didn't quite know what to say. Instead, she continued to stare down at your wrist with an expression you didn't quite like.

It was the first you'd ever seen a sorrow that matched the bottom of the ocean in the blues of her eyes.

On other days, perhaps in the evenings as the sun is still setting, she holds you in her arms in places the light does not touch. In coves or in rocks, it's as silent as the setting sun when you rest your head on her shoulder.

Perhaps you were an idiot to let her hold you in the water, for the moment she lets go, she could drown you in one swipe. And yet you stayed in her embrace, even in the deepest of waters. She hasn't let go of you yet, anyways, not even once.

"Why do you do it?" you asked her one evening. Your voice came out as a whisper, and she shivered when your lips brushed against the skin of her neck.

Equally as quiet, she responded, "Do what?"

"Why"—you hugged her tighter—"have you slaughtered?" Were you scared she would let go, or did you fear her answer?

"I..." she hesitated. If you were imaginative, then you might've assumed she was reluctant to respond. But even now, you weren't sure if you wanted to find out, yourself. "I really didn't mean to, at first."

You stayed silent to let her continue, but you didn't ignore the way her arms tugged at your waist, pulling you closer to her body. It was as if she was hiding herself, though somehow, you couldn't blame her. Even when she buried her face in the damp crook of your neck, you allowed her your comfort in the cold water.

"I just sang because I loved to, so far out at sea..." Rosalyne mumbled, and perhaps she found relief in the way you were not able to see her face. "I really didn't think it would attract a group of sailors... And then they..." She trailed off for a moment, internally cursing herself for trying to make excuses. "I guess they wanted to take me, and I guess their demise was my way of self-defense, that's all."

"Rosey..."

"Attracting them was easy, so then I just kept doing it..." she continued, "to cleanse the world of people like them." She thought she was doing a good deed—as if the ends justified her means, even in all its extremity. "Those married sailors, all greedy for a woman's body and for fame..."

The next thing you knew, she gripped onto your back, yet with all the delicacy in the world. A testimony of her crimes, one that should've reminded you just how dangerous she could be—and, how stupid you were for enveloping yourself in her arms atop the perilous waters. But somehow, even after she admitted all of this, you didn't feel scared.

"They didn't deserve to go home happy," she concluded, all said with the quietest mumble you've heard thus far.

She was so gentle and so pretty.

No wonder she was able to kill so many people.

...Right. She was a siren. Your fingers trembled as they brushed against her hips under the water, feeling scales instead of skin. Even after all this time you spent together, nothing changed. She was still not human, but instead a monster who had killed people.

And you were still assigned to kill her.

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"What is taking you so long?"

You had never heard Diluc raise his voice at you like this before. To a lower recruit that messed up, sure; to a monster he was fighting, yes. But never to you, a respectable member of M.U.S.E.

"Did I not detail how important the death of the target is in this mission? Four. This siren has killed four of our own personnel."

Your lips stayed sealed as he scolded you like a child; though what else could you do, when you didn't even know how to respond? You couldn't make up an excuse for spending countless days in the arms of your target, when she was just that: your target. Kill the anomaly at all costs, yet you had been doing anything but that.

"What have you been up to?" Diluc stressed. "Are you scared? Is that why you're not killing it? Fear?"

"...Feelings don't matter in a job where we kill monsters."

There it was, that quote again. The first time it was uttered from your lips, you were so sure of your own values in this job. But now, it was almost as if you said it just to remind yourself. Or, you were convincing yourself that killing was still your goal in the end.

Diluc himself made no reaction other than complete silence. If he didn't believe you, then he didn't show it. And if he did, then there was no indication of such, either.

"You better live up to those words, and don't disappoint," was what he said after a while. He finally turned, and you almost sighed in relief from the lack of punishment on your end. "The lives of Mondstadt's citizens depend on you," he began to conclude. "Prevent more tragic deaths from a vile creature."

You bit your tongue.

"And kill the anomaly with no remorse."

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The wind blew across a greyish sky, the sun barely peering for an early, cloudy morning.

Empty was the sand on the beach, for regular civilians normally did not come near the waters during this hour of the day. The wind was too strong, and it bit at any skin so roughly that even a siren understood this loneliness.

But you were now her one companion in mornings such as these. You, with your fleeced coat and body heat giving a more passionate warmth than the sun had ever given her. You, whose hands didn't mind embracing her freezing skin that was still cold from the waters. And you, who still wore your M.U.S.E. uniform every time you saw her.

The winds felt absent when she leaned against you, arms loosely wrapped around your neck. Even when her lips accidentally brushed against your skin as she laid atop your shoulder, humming lightly into the morning breeze, you still did not flinch away from her.

And she felt comfort from that—to be treated as a person rather than a monster.

"Rosey," you quietly called for her, and she found herself trying to keep her body as close to you as possible, even when she had to look up at you. But she leaned away nevertheless, though felt butterflies when you shifted your coat so it covered her back, as well.

"Hm?" She sounded almost sleepy, and you couldn't help but smile at the way her eyes were bluer than this grey morning.

"If I could ask you a favor..."

The siren stared up at you curiously, awaiting your question. You could only hope that your request wouldn't be seen as offensive.

"Can you... Can you sing for me?" you asked quite hesitantly. Her eyes widened instantly. "Normally, I mean—sing as you loved to."

Rosalyne's breath seemed to catch in her lungs for a moment. It was not a request she expected, for her singing was only used nowadays to lure in those sleazy sailors. But this was different; you wanted to hear her actually sing. You didn't want her body so superficially like those men did, no. It was her genuine voice you wanted to hear.

The voice that drew in that first group of vile men in the first place.

She quickly shook off the thought.

"You... really want me to?" she made sure.

"Yes."

"And you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

She didn't even catch the way she smiled so brightly at your words. Of course I do, in which you said with not a single stutter or reluctance.

You both knew what she was asking upon the mention of trust: there was a silent understanding that she was still a siren, known for luring prey with her voice. And despite that, you trusted her. Even though the potential consequences were obvious, you still asked her to perform with her most dangerous weapon, her own voice.

Rosalyne felt her heartstrings strum in elation.

In a spark of excitement, she backed away from your warmth, scooting in the sand to sit herself in front of you. You couldn't help but find her so adorable; it was like she was readying herself for a performance. The gentle morning waves hit her tail so gracefully, and you could've sworn the clouds were beginning to clear just for her.

"The west wind..."

You almost didn't hear her at first, for the tenderness of her voice carried with the lightness of the wind. Her eyes closed in poise, and your breath caught in your lungs.

"...Bears wine's fragrance away."

It was a song you recognized from sailors at sea, or from bards in drunken taverns. A song so common and diluted by the people of Mondstadt, that its lyrics were predictable in your head.

"The breeze from afar..."

Yet, they were anything but ordinary to you. Her voice and reverberated passion made you sit in anticipation atop the sand, as if it was a song entirely new to your ears. She awoke its beauty in a way that had you entranced—though not under a siren's spell, but instead her own loveliness.

"...sings of my longing for y—"

"Hey, Hey... Look'it what we got 'ere!"

Her singing was cut off rather shortly, merely a stanza in before the rough grunt and laugh of a man intercepted her song.

A group of sailors on the beach during this early morning. From the looks of it, they had likely just docked on shore, or arrived merely hours ago. You couldn't tell—life at sea was always a sporadic one. But what worried you was not exactly their arrival, however, but more so the fact that you and your siren companion were out in the open.

And panic surged the moment you caught their gazes—dead trained on her tail.

"This the same beast that killed one of us last month?" the same man asked. His words were strained and raspy, incredibly reminiscent of a smoker's voice. And sure enough, his chapped lips curled around a little white stick of smoke.

"Most likely, sir! Looks like following that singing was a good idea."

Your attention perked up at the voice, before your eyes directed to an aberrant person in the group of sleazy sailors. A younger peer of yours, wearing the same, dark uniform as you with that shining silver insignia.

"Cadet Adam," you recognized, trying to dispel the shakiness of your voice. Perhaps if you gained control of him, he and his group would be convinced to leave. An even worse outcome—to have another M.U.S.E. employee here, especially one who was not a full soldier yet.

"Hello, ma'am!" he happily chirped with a salute. "Mr. Ragnvindr told me to accompany you!"

But Diluc made it clear he didn't want to give me a partner...

"I see you found the siren already!" Adam grinned, blowing a puff of smoke. He was an uncanny kind of positive, one that unnerved you. And his words only drew you closer to the woman your mind was suddenly bound to protect. You shifted in the sand ever so slightly, but nevertheless moving in front of her despite the cold waters.

One of the sailors spat in the water, then took a swig of his bottle. "This one of yer coworkers?"

"Yep!" Adam happily replied, not seeming to mind the rotten smell of smoke and cheap alcohol that these sailors reeked. In fact, he himself chewed at a cigar between his lips. "She's a high ranking M.U.S.E official! She actually saved me and killed another siren not too long ago!"

Though she was behind, you did not miss Rosalyne's flinch.

You also did not miss the guilt that pooled in your throat. Not only from the fact you had asked her to sing in the first place, which ultimately drew the sailors in, but also the reminder that you were still indeed a M.U.S.E. officer. Though, until now, you had never felt such regret from doing your job before.

"Ma'am, I'm here to help you with this case!"

"There's no need for that, Adam."

"Nonsense! Mr. Ragnvindr told me this would be counted as the final exam for my training!"

Before you could reply, a strangled yelp came from behind. When you turned back at the sound, Rosalyne was already pulled farther away from you, being held at both her arms by two of the men. They were rough, gripping her skin like she was another batch of fish they just hauled from the ocean; and she looked almost terrified.

"Rosa—"

"Just sit 'n watch, ma'am!" Adam hurried, blowing smoke near your face. "I was told you'll be the one to approve of my graduation as a cadet, so I'd love to do the honors of killing the beast for you!"

Somehow, the words tainted you more than they should've. Even as Adam forced you to stand back and watch, that word stayed ringing in your head: beast.

It made you feel hatred. It made you despise these humans in a way a monster would—these humans and their smell of vodka and cigarettes, laughing at this whole ordeal. This hatred was all in defense of this anomaly who technically did not deserve your compassion. But you wanted her to deserve it; in fact, you truly felt like she did.

And so your body moved on its own. You charged towards her despite Adam's protest, the only thought in your head being to save her.

"Don't!" she yelled towards you, and you stopped. "Don't lay a finger on me..." Her voice held a forced sense of animosity that shocked you; she spoke as if you were any other M.U.S.E. soldier. And yet, the blue in her eyes displayed a whole sea of emotions: fear, panic, and desperation, and some sort of trust in you to rid of all this dismay.

The look alone made you realize: she was acting to protect your image.

A M.U.S.E. officer and a siren. Only one was fated to live in the end, and only one of you had the upper hand here.

She ripped one of her arms out of their grip, moving quickly to reach for her dagger to slice them, all in attempts to save herself. If she's survived all this time alone, then she can surely do so again as you watched her—at least, that was what you were telling yourself to believe.

But it was getting unbearable for you to watch as more of these sleazy sailors piled on her as if she was some wild animal. They were rough with the way they tried to put her and her weapon down, and the contrast of her struggling expression to your cadet's elated one made you nauseous.

"Enough now," you commanded him. "I'll do my own job."

"Please, not yet, ma'am!" he begged you, ash falling from his lips. "I promise I can kill it as soon as possible—"

"Hey, stop strugglin' you witch!"

Another yelp had cut off your cadet as your attention flew back to the siren, whose limbs and hair were getting pulled by sailors wanting to restrain her. Not just restrain her, even. The ultimate goal was to kill her.

And even as her dagger swung wildly, she was still outnumbered by their calloused hands and barbaric pull.

Rosalyne bellowed, "I'm not a—!"

A sailor's bottle of vodka came slamming down, right onto the side of her head and splashing its contents to her face. She let out a sound of immediate pain, still unable to break free from the men even as glass shards fell to the sand and cut the skin of her face and tail.

Her dagger fell out of her hands, and the first you saw was the puff of cigar smoke from Adam's lips.

He approached her so suddenly, not a word spoken to you; but his face brightened as if he had an epiphany. There was such a sycophantic look in his eyes that made your gut drop. In his mouth bobbed the cigar, and in his pockets his hands were fiddling to find something. As his heavy shoes crunched the glass down on the sand, kicking her dull dagger backwards, all you saw was red.

The red of blood trickling down the right side of her face from the glass bottle.

And, the red of the fire from his cigar lighter.

You dashed a little too late when he threw the fire at her alcohol-drenched face, and what you heard first in your ringing ears was another pained cry, and then laughter, and then a final shout—

Until your hand swung down in utter hatred.

You didn't even realize you picked up her dagger until the silver of the blade—a silver that so much resembled her burning eye—shined against the morning waves, and pierced right through his flesh.

Adam froze when the blade impaled his skin, his own coworker stabbing him in the back. Perhaps the pain didn't register yet with the way he seemed paralyzed in his spot. But the other sailors scattered when they noticed the knife in his back, or perhaps it was the fury in your eyes. They dropped Rosalyne so suddenly onto the sand, and she scurried towards the water the moment she was free.

But you panicked.

Your own hand had inflicted harm upon your cadet. You... were a traitor.

But it couldn't just end like this. You couldn't just take the dagger out and run. What would happen, then—when he reports you to the organization? What would happen when Diluc finds out that you lied to him? That you were protecting your target this whole time?

What's done was done, and without thinking, you pulled the dagger out, then slid it to slice open the front of his throat, and his body fell to the red-stained sand.

If the other sailors were still here, you'd be damned.

"W-What..." You turned to the side, seeing the siren you had just killed a man for. A part of her was in the water, seeming to use the waves of cold water to ease her burns. However, her hands pressed down tightly on the right side of her face—whether it was because of the pain or because she didn't want you to see her, you didn't know. But she spoke out in horror, "What have you done...?"

"Why the hell would he send me a trainee?!" you grunted. That was the only thing you could curse; you had no other words to explain yourself.

But your first priority was her. It was always her. Completely leaving the body on the red-soaked sand, you turned to step into the gentle water—only for her to flinch away. And yet, there was no fear of you in her eyes, only tides of worry.

"Just..." she stuttered out. "Just go."

"What?"

"Go, please. It was my fault, this was a mistake," Rosalyne stared in distress at the dead soldier. "I'll take the blame for it, please, I don't want you to be labeled a traitor—"

"I won't be," you quickly reassured. But you weren't even sure if you were really telling the truth, or just trying to convince the both of you. "I can cover this up, Rosalyne, I can..."

"How?" she sounded out. Her eyes shifted to that of desperation, as if she was hopeless in her pleas to be saved.

She truly had no more hope in a world that was so cruel to her. How could your heart possibly not break? Even after she was pulled, hit, and burned—even after she bled into the water, looking like she would pass out at any second—she still wanted you to return to your normal life and keep your position. Without her.

"Stop being so stubborn, just say the death was caused by me," she demanded in a way that sounded like she was begging you to save yourself—save yourself from a monster like her. You could've laughed at the thought. Who was truly the monster now when you just slit the throat of your own cadet who was simply doing his job? "Doesn't he have a pulse tracker, like you? Please just listen to me... You'll be found out."

"Rosey," you mumbled, as gently as you possibly could. Against this dull morning light, the sun still rising and hidden behind the clouds, you two looked like a tragedy even as you smiled. "Close your eyes for me, okay?"

She didn't listen, but only gritted her teeth as she watched you step over to your cadet's body. Two fingers slid down the side of his neck, and surely: still a pulse. It had already been a few minutes. It might stop soon. Two fingers slid up under his jaw, and surely: still a bump, still a tracker.

You did not hesitate when you twirled her dagger to cut right in. The tracker was gouged out and broken between your bare fingers. Unsympathetically. Perhaps the weight of it all hadn't sunken in yet.

"...You're horrible to do this all for someone you're supposed to kill."

When you looked back at her, still in the water when she spoke, she watched your actions intently. She calmed down, luckily, though it might've been from the faintness of blood and the pain her body was experiencing. But despite the disappointment lacing her expression, she did not fear you, nor did she despise you. If anything, it was clear that she was going to pass out any second now.

"And you're even more horrible for killing all those sailors in the past, even though I know why you did it," you told her. She looked away. "And..." you continued, "those men are horrible for trying to kill someone close to me, so I guess we're all just terrible people in this world."

Her visible eye widened at the despairing smile you gave her. Even after all of this, even with your years of involvement in M.U.S.E., to be someone close to her...

Under the morning sun that finally rose, she couldn't help but lean her face into the crook of your neck when you carried her, running away from the sin you both committed against the world.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Hard tiles, white bath curtains, running water, and purple petals.

When you finally stepped foot in your house and placed her in your bathtub, you took your first breath of relief. Though you had just committed a crime that could not only change the course of your life, but also downright demolish all your sense of values, you couldn't help but be thankful.

She was here now, safe in the comforts of your own home and sitting all sleepy in your bathtub. Placing her dagger at the side of the tub, you examined her state. Rosalyne's delicate nature was stained with that of burned skin and dried alcohol. In silence, you began to clean her wounds; and in what was perhaps shyness, she looked away. She did not shy away due to uncomfort, no, but instead from what seemed to be embarrassment as she still covered the right side of her face.

Pushing the pure white curtains away, you whispered to her, "Please let me help you, Rosalyne."

"...I look terrible."

"You'll look more terrible if I don't treat you."

"You're helping a monster who doesn't deserve it."

"After all of this, you really believe I think of you as any less than human?"

The word seemed to stun her. Human.

How ironic, for a M.U.S.E. soldier, the very soldiers meant to kill her kind—how ironic it was for you to be the first person to ever call her human. But no matter how hard she tried to hide it, she couldn't help the feeling of warmth she felt when you validate her existence as more than some wicked anomaly.

At the same time, she felt sick. In order to save her from death, you turned yourself against all your values.

Unable to swallow the guilt in her throat, she hesitantly loosened and moved her arms away from her face, which she tried to tilt away from you. But curse your caring touch, for the feeling of your hand pulling gently at her chin was one she could not draw away from. Your touch was tender on her burns—cooling, even. It was like ice, yet not as bitter and sharp.

And when you looked into her single working eye...

All the devastations of the world flooded purple hues.

Without thinking, you pulled her face and leaned forward, your lips planting down softly on her burned right eye. Your kiss was so light and her face was so wounded that you weren't even sure if she could feel it. But the sudden red tint on her left cheek said it all, and soon she was melting in your touch for more of your affections.

This pale purple was a new color, alongside blue and silver. Calm blue like the ocean, and dangerous silver like her blade.

Purple, like...

"I've never seen you in anything but your uniform before," she told you with the kindest of smiles, seeming to have loosened up to your care. If you were being blunt, you'd say she even looked a little dazed as you cleaned her skin and her wounds. "You're so pretty"

"You're literally half burnt and you're throwing compliments at me?" you scoffed.

You had changed into more casual wear after setting her down. The typical M.U.S.E. uniform was too stuffy, and she seemed to agree. But it was all trivial conversations. Were you going to talk about what had happened earlier? Probably not. Not now, at least.

Because for now, she was safe in your arms. She was alive.

"Are those flowers real?" she asked as you scratched shampoo into her hair. She was unfamiliar with these sorts of bath things, but its scent reminded her of your own (and she’d be lying if she said the smell did not calm her down).

Your eyes followed her gaze until they landed on a vase you kept as decor on the sink. "Those?"

"Yeah, up there." You nodded at her absentmindedly. "I don't see flowers often since I'm usually in the water..." she mumbled as you poured water over her head and rinsed her hair. "What are they?"

"Purple hyacinths."

She only hummed in response, choosing to stay silent and keep her head down as you rinsed her hair of shampoo. It was as silky as always, though you were more gentle with her than ever before. When you pulled back her hair, she turned to you, curiosity showing only superficially in her eyes.

"What do they represent?" she quietly asked.

Only the light splashing of water was heard as you stared at her. Those eyes of hers—the door to a soul you believed was no less than human. They carried the weight of an ocean, and yet you saw lilac fields in them now, or even lavender buds. But most of all, purple petals of hyacinth blossoms swirled endlessly in her eyes.

And in them, you saw the exact meaning.

"...Sorrow."

Silver, blue, and finally purple... akin to the sorrows of her life.

They bloomed, and they lived their short lives through this devastation. Despite its beauty, despite its freedom, they lived in sorrow, and then they died. No one mourned the loss of a monster.

But before you knew it, she was shaking your shoulders, calling your name to get your attention.

She whispered, "What are we going to do...?"

You did not fail to catch the defeated sound in her voice, waves of helplessness rushing over. You, still a member of an organization that killed her kind, were her last line of life, and she trusted it all to you. "I'll lie to them, don't you worry," you whispered closely to her. "You're safe here, I promise."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to dispose of me?" she pleaded through gritted teeth. "I don't want to burden you with the punishment..."

"Rosalyne," you called to her. A spiral of silver, blue, and purple—all begging for a life that was simpler than this. "I want to save you," you swore, "and I will."

"I'm... scared."

"I am, too," you admitted. And once you grabbed both her hands in yours, though they were burned and wounded, you vowed to her. "But we'll see what happens tomorrow, alright?" you smiled. "We'll pass through with you safe and alive."

She seemed stunned for a moment, mouth hanging slightly ajar as if she had not heard such phrases ever before in her life—and truly, she probably hadn't. Not for a wicked monster like her. And yet at this moment... She felt human. Her eyes began to water like any human would, and she could not control her tears as she leaned forward so suddenly, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

"Thank you..." she cried into your skin. "I've not known kindness until now..."

And you allowed her to cry—you let her wail out the sorrows of her life onto your shoulder until she had no more tears to spill. At the end of it all, she had emotions like any person you had ever met. She clinged on so tightly, only loosening her grip when her breath finally slowed down until near-slumber.

"Rest now," you whispered tenderly to her ear.

She only hummed against your shoulder, before mumbling sleepily near your ear.

"I love you."

"...Too early."

"Sorry."

"But I love you, too."

And when she smiled at you one last time before falling asleep, you swore you saw blossoming life within her purple hues.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

She was still sound asleep in the waters of your bathtub when you awoke.

This damned uniform never felt so evil before, but you had to report in today after that whole accident. You gave Rosalyne merely a kiss on her forehead and a smile, before you left her in the comforts of her home to visit the organization early this morning.

"Well, well... If it isn't the overseer of M.U.S.E. Special File Number Two."

When you turned, you saw one of your peers, Kaeya Alberich, leaned against the wall. He looked at you with his usual, casual smirk.

"Where's Ragnvindr?" you asked him.

"Diluc's out today for some mission," he waved off rather dismissively, as if this was some mere office job with no dangers or death. Oh, how you wished it was like that. "But he had something to tell you, so I'm here to play messenger."

You narrowed your eyes. "Go on."

"Woah, woah, it's nothing bad!" He seemed to sense your caution, and so he pushed a hand towards you, reassuring calmly, "No need to be so tense."

If you were also hiding an anomaly in your house like I am, then you'd know this tenseness.

"Anyways," he cleared his throat after seeing you attempt to relax. "Your case has been dropped."

"...What?"

"There haven't been reports of any deaths lately concerning your anomaly, despite it being a level seven," Kaeya shrugged. "And other members haven't reported sightings of it, either, so Diluc decided to drop the case for now."

He looked so passive—he had no idea the feelings of pure joy this news just brought you.

"Anyways," he continued, "newer cases have come in and we need you to handle some of them."

You were almost too happy to speak. "So..." It was so hard to contain a smile. Your body was already ready to run back and cry happily to the safe siren in your home. "That's it for Special File Two?"

"I mean, unless it shows up again, then yeah," he affirmed. "And Diluc requested that you come in tomorrow morning for a new case, by the way. Are you free for that?"

"Of course."

"Alright," Kaeya finalized.

Then he pushed himself up from the wall, spinning on his heel to turn around. The blue haired man threw a casual little two-fingered salute at you, and then he finally began to walk off.

"Godspeed."

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"Rosey!" you called out excitedly. "I'm home!"

Silence.

"Rosalyne?"

You smiled to yourself, she was probably still asleep. Honestly, you were also still tired. Dry eyes, raspy voice—the conversation you two had last night was still fresh in your mind. But the news from this morning was pure elation to your ears, and now there was peace.

Were you breaking the rules? Technically, yes. In your head, it didn’t matter.

You were protecting no monster. Rosalyne was a human. She lived like any other person; she laughed, she cried, she had the most human of emotions.

If you killed her, it would be murder.

"Psst!" you playfully whispered as you approached the bathroom.

The door was already open and the light was still on. You heard the lightest of dripping sounds, meaning she still laid in the water-filled tub. Finally making it to the doorway, you gently called for her.

"Rosa... lyne...?"

The bath curtains were ripped, the pot of hyacinths was shattered, sprawled messily on the floor.

Running with red.

You froze almost instantly, and it was only then did the scent of iron hit your nose. It was putrid. The rot made its way to your head in seconds, immediately making you feel nauseous.

The side of the bathtub visible to you streaked red going downwards; its ceramic white matched with the stained curtains on the floor. The water level... it was higher than you left it.

Your feet felt numb, or it was fear. But you swore, you were trembling just standing there.

The world was spinning as you took a grueling step forward, the scent practically choking you from your lungs. Another step, and you steadied yourself against the tiled wall, eyes widening in horror when you finally saw what laid before you.

You turned and threw up near the curtains.

Red waters, her body laying in the center of it all. Her own dagger plunged right into her heart—dragged, even, from below her shoulder down to its final resting place. Her flesh had been carved brutally along the dull blade, akin to the suffering stab of a butterknife. There was no clean cut, just chunks of her bloodied flesh dragged monstrously.

Even as your teary eyes stared down at the blurred image of the curtains and torn purple petals, you could not get the image of her out of your head. Bruises that adorned her half-burned face only added more pain to her tattered body, and your quick glance did not miss the sight of the crescent-shaped marks of nails that clawed at her skin.

The back of your throat was burning. In fact, your whole body was burning and you feared you may pass out atop the spill of her blood.

"It struggled a bit."

You almost screamed at the sudden voice. And when your body jerked itself around, there he was.

Diluc stood nonchalantly at the doorway of your bathroom, hand busied with fixing his gloves. He presented such a brighter red than the darkness of her pouring blood, though your blurred mind coined him as a much greater evil than she could ever be.

"Yanked on the bath curtains," he continued to describe, "probably to pull itself up."

You choked out a sob, the image of her pulling on the cloth just for a chance of life forcing its way into your head. But alas, she had no legs and not even a chance to defend herself, especially against a man like Diluc.

He was so heartless in the way he spoke about killing her, that you almost laughed at the dark irony. She, whose artery was just so brutally punctured out, had more of a heart than this man did. She, who was now lying in a pool of her own blood, had more emotion than he did.

She, who was dubbed as some wicked anomaly, was more human than he was.

"How..." you croaked out, your own body rejecting you from speaking any more than that.

"Did you really not think I would notice?" he glared down as you still sat pathetically on the ground. "What else would I suspect, when Cadet Adam's signal gets cut and his tracker goes missing? No monster knows of our trackers, at least not well enough to break them. What, I was just going to ignore that?"

Self-blame immediately shot to your head, and your brain spun on the idea that you were not careful enough. But what else were you supposed to do? Were you really gullible enough to not catch that Diluc was onto you? Sudden realization hit you, and his next words only confirmed it.

He continued, "You were so blinded by this monster that you didn't even realize I deliberately sent out Adam to check on you."

"You—!"

"And you killed him."

There, that ultimate truth you've been ignoring since it happened. You killed one of your peers, a human. But truly... was Diluc himself any different?

He finally took a step forward, and your senses heightened. Though she was now nothing but a rotting corpse in your bathtub, your body still jolted with a sense of protection as he moved towards her once more. She looked so delicate with her silk hair falling down her face, swirling around her atop the water surface.

Yet he still knelt down beside the tub, as if he had the intent to only ruin her once-gentleness further. And when he reached towards her with a certain device in his hands, you practically sprang forward.

"Diluc, that's enough." Your voice resounded against the suffocating space desperately, your actions matching your tone as you scurried to pull on his closest arm. You slipped and pulled like a weak animal against him; but when your mind was unclear and nauseous, he practically flicked you away like a helpless puppy.

Stumbling, you fell back on the bath curtains. The scent and her blood hitting your skin made the sickening feeling rise back into your throat again.

But it gave you a perfect view of Diluc raising the metal stamp—the metal burner—and cruelly pressing it right on her shoulder. The smell of burning now entered your lungs until it was there, branded on her like she was cattle:

The M.U.S.E. insignia.

Another scar to add to her beaten body. No one mourns or cares for people like her. And Diluc did not even flinch as he branded the company's completion mark on her body.

He looked terrifying. That stone-cold face was probably what he wore when he killed her.

"Why..."

There was nothing more you could do but sit there. Your skin already felt sticky from her blood, and you were helpless. Diluc did all that he needed to do.

And, she was dead.

"Feelings don't matter in a job where we kill monsters," he quoted in that damned monotonous voice of his. "You said it yourself when you took the job."

You quietly cried, "She wasn't a monster..."

"Well it certainly wasn't human, was it?"

It. You glared up at him, as if he just stated the most absurd nonsense to the face of the Earth. It felt like he just spat at your face, speaking blasphemy and defying all that you stood for. And, he ripped apart what you considered a human life.

"Clean all of this up, the mission's done," he commanded you. Pocketing the metal burner, he stood up and finally made his way out the door. "We already have a new one to dispatch you on. See me in my office tomorrow morning."

She laid lifelessly in front of you, once a smiling figure who you promised to give a better life to. How cruel, that was only last night. And now her singing voice was no more—just another mission completed. Just another monster killed by M.U.S.E., the saviors of humankind.

Before he stepped out into daylight, he called out to you a final time.

"Dispose of it, and spare no compassion in a job like this one."

#mod alice 🦋#m.u.s.e.#la signora x reader #signora x reader #rosalyne x reader #la signora #signora #genshin x reader #genshin signora #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin rosalyne #rosalyne kruzchka lohefalter #genshin impact signora #genshin

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koolkvat-blog · 6 years ago

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hello loves , what’s up ! i’m super excited to be here & to finally play my precious girl , jade aka kool kat . i’m LOLA , use she / her prounouns , i am NINETEEN , & i am currently in the gmt + 1 timezone which means yes , my ass should’ve been awake for intro posting but i don’t know what time management is and ended up swamped w/ work , so ! everything you need to know about about miss kat is under the cut , & i’m rlly thrilled to be apart of such a wonderful rp with such gorgeous muses . corniness over –– if you’re looking to plot sumn out , just hit that ♥︎ & i’ll make my way on over to ur dms , or feel free to add me up on discord which i’ll give in im’s if anybody’s interested ! ♡♡♡ tw : family issues , body image issues & drug mention ( not explicit ) .

001 . SYNOPSIS . FULL NAME . jade kikuchi . NICKNAMES . kool kat . AGE . twenty - one . DATE OF BIRTH . twenty - seventh of september , 1993 / libra . PLACE OF BIRTH . harajuku , tokyo , japan . GENDER . cisgender female . SEXUALITY . ( closeted ) pansexual . NATIONALITY . japanese , now american too after successfully gaining citizenship . ETHNICITY . ��asian . OCCUPATION . fashion designer at katz designz , former fashion design and journalist student back in her original timeline . PLAYLIST . here ! ( + ) charismatic , enthusiastic , warm , energetic , adventurous , compassionate , animated . ( - ) deceptive , independent , emotional , territorial , ambitious , impulsive , temperamental , insecure , sarcastic .

002 . AESTHETIC . wheatgrass smoothies , 90′s anime with subtitles , chanel no. 5, speeding on a desert road with the windows down , painting your toenails on the dashboard , neon prints , cat lazing on a balcony in the sun , black lace , japanese horror films , sour cocktails with sugar around the rim , half - smoked cigarettes , stacks of fashion magazines , long hair hastily dyed different colours in a motel bathroom , thrift stores .

003. INFORMATION .

tl;dr : a flighty, inattentive adventurer: a follower of whims; personable and sociable but lacks the skills to maintain relationships because she’s entirely (and perhaps too) career focused, checks her horoscope daily and entirely relies on the stars when concerning relationships, epitome of a britney spears / gwen stefani stan back in the 2000′s, still owns a (bedazzled) flip phone, collector of vintage fashion (chanel, elle, juicy couture etc.) a subscriber to the Leonardo Da Vinci sleeping method; catch her at 2 am making soufflés or buying plane tickets to shiwei so she can really experience the culture: will tell you she loves you ten minutes after first introduction because she’s high: kind of unintentionally insensitive to those she doesn’t know and closed off but in like a cool, lovable way.

• heads up im running on like 5 hrs sleep so sry when this inevitably derails ! ok sweet let’s get into this .

• so as aforementioned this is jade kukichi, aka, kool kat. she was dubbed that by her friends due to her unique fashion style and sense of dress, and it’s stuck. lbr nobody other than her friends can use that term so if you do, she’s just going to stare at u for a quick sec before saying ‘it’s jade’.

• born in harajuku, tokyo to a cardiothoracic surgeon of a father and a politician of a mother, jade grew up traveling the world and becoming flighty af, never thinking she was going to make long - term friends and kinda being okay with that.

• her family has never stayed in one place for very long, though her aging parents eventually settled into a permanent residence in the us around the time she turned sixteen, not soon enough for jade to break the habit of wandering, but thankfully quick enough for her to meet the bratz girls who were just as adventurous and fun - loving as she. she's spent much of her teen life jumping from place to place wherever her interests are that moment, collecting people along the way, but to find friends was the only thing she was missing. jade has a brilliant mind, but she lacks patience and follow through. she needs guidance or she'll jump from idea to idea, job to job, whim to whim.

• ngl, jade pretty much hated her home life. her parents were an overbearing presence in her life, her mother wanting jade to be a proper lady who also went into a profession like theirs (entirely serious and stifling when it came to creativity, doctor, politician, lawyer etc.) while jade herself wanted to check out the latest trends and go to the mall w her friends – so she turned all of her focus and energy into getting good grades in everything she wanted to do in the hopes that she could be the most successful fashion designer, then leaving town forever.

• like she spent 7 yrs in high school graduating w honours but she barely knew what was happening in 9/10 of her classes and sometimes she just slept through classes and then wing her exams which she miraculously did well at. it was just not a good idea to send jade to a public school at 11 after being in boarding school for the rest of her life and then never really enforce any rules :~\ she has trouble with that kind of thing.. as in making logical choices instead of saying "YEAH lets go watch american psycho and smoke weed!" skipping chemistry to do just that

• she loves fun and values doing what makes her happy over most things. it's hard to pin her down and she spends most of her life chasing after ideas that don't really follow any sort of conscious order, bc she’s really got that ‘i’ve got dreams and i’m gonna do everything in my power to achieve them’ personality.

• according to bratz canon she’s worked as literally everything ? she’s one of those insufferable people who r just. good everything ig and that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth. jade’s been a photographer, a song - writer and bass player in a rock band (shout out to bratz rock angelz the best movie w the best soundtrack ever), a student studying fashion design, a fashion columnist, a quickly fired nanny, and many other things in between.

• so when she appears in toonsville she’s kind of out of it that she’s not doing something w her skills and sets up her own business which she loves ? being her own boss suits her fine (for now) because she’s got a Real Job and she's actually trying rly hard so she can fulfill her dreams !! like suck it mom nd dad haha !!!

• jade has a lot of weird feelings TM about her body and her looks and struggles a lot with her self confidence :~( she had a shit time at school with boys saying she was too thin and she compensated by acting like she didn't like anyone at all for a while and now she thinks she isn't good enough for anyone when rly she is a cinnamon bun too good for this world too pure

• best friend ever she is so good at being a friend if u text her at 3am to go out or cry on her shoulder shes ready to go at 3:15 even if she was sleeping w lots of snacks and treats and love!!! she is sooo extroverted around those she’s comfortable w, she gains so much energy from being around people and she loves being nice and being around ppl she likes

• she becomes the mom of groups pretty easily (hence why she’s the leader of the bratz) bc she bottles up most of her own problems to help ppl with theirs!! which is toxic yea but she puts people first always so !! plz help her poor repressed soul!! rip kool kat..

• still super into the stuff of her time so like.. she loves the x files and bad reality tv shows (i want to be a hilton) and reads gossip magazines on the reg because she enjoys that stuff! also very into girl groups.. ginger spice / posh spice is an eternal mood.

• anyway yes sweet adult-child of 21 (she is in denial about that tho like she doesn't want to be childish) who is v nice v kind v loyal v baked a lot of time, v passionate v silly. idk what i'm doin hope u like it < 3

004. WANTED CONNECTIONS .

friends / best friends / ride or dies . jade genuinely loves people, loves talking to strangers and getting into intense conversations with people she’s only just met, learning other people’s way of life and bettering herself for getting. she is, however, incredibly blunt and has never once minced words to keep from hurting someone’s feelings or to ease them into a situation. she’d much rather have a one-time conversation with a stranger than make long lasting relationships. she has three very close friends – to the point of co - dependence – and honestly, she’d rather spend all of her time doing things she loves such as her hobbies, sticking her nose into the latest vogue, or searching for cute collars and treats for her cat mica w them instead of making new friends. she's also FUN and she'd be happy to go on crazy road trips or buy out a movie theater for a day or anything that she thinks will her buds happy. she's traveled all over, so she’s v well read and cultured. she loves people but she hates complication and won't deal with any sort of emotional labor. she wants to live in the moment and expects everyone in her life to do so as well. just be chill, y'all.

frenemies / enemies / rivals . please be her enemy, she needs people to antagonize shdhshd. she grew up pretty much affluent so she’s pretty spoiled even if she doesn’t want to admit it, and that rebellious side of her hasn’t died down yet. despite the fact that she is wealthy and in good community standing, she has a hard time letting go of childish grudges. in general she’s got a lot of suppressed feelings and ready to fight everyone who hurts her friends – like an irritated cat – so, honestly, come at her ? she is sometimes a little fickle and flighty and a unintentionally stuck up when it comes to art / fashion and she has definitely said the wrong thing at the wrong time and pissed the wrong people off, she can’t stand anyone underestimating her or thinking she’s dumb bc she’s interested in fashion. like gtfo !

ex’s , fwb’s , possible love interests . jade is fairly fluid romantically and is the type of person who hates labels but also just wants to be cherished and called cute pet names lowkey. she loves a lot and gives a lot to her relationships, but typically doesn't want to commit to anything important. she’s gone from one disastrous relationship to another, ending up with a boyfriend who constantly ridiculed her image that was essentially the catalyst for her cutting off romantic ties, quite a recent wound before she found herself on the island actually. worst thing is tht she’s convinced herself that she’s been the problem in these relationships – that she turns good people bad or that she is too much for people to deal with, she’s not sure what the issue is and she doesn’t really want to know. so…. fuck everything amirite ? anyway, she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no (wo)man.

etc . pls give me people jade can give a makeover to, people she shares an apartment w on the island, people who think fashion is girly and vapid.. creatives who love what she’s doing, anything tbh << 3

#cartoons:intro #ngl making jade's playlist was the best part about this

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