English is not my first language, but i tried... in general, the story of my character! If i've made any mistakes in geography, character descriptions, or anything else, tell me, i'm happy for any clarification in a mild way!
Revachol. The former capital of the world, a city resting upon the isola of Insulinde, standing as the fallen disgraced capital of the world. Today, it is a Zone of Control under the jurisdiction of the Coalition of Nations, shattered and torn to pieces half a century ago. It is divided into Eastern and Western Revachol: in the west reigns an authentic international chaos—a zone no one gives a damn about and where no one dares to poke their nose. Officially, the west of the city is called Jamrock and consists of several districts: Martinaise, Pox, Villalobos, Central Jamrock, Grand-Couron, Old South, and the Valley of the Dogs, a checkerboard of wooden houses for eighty thousand souls, a stack of fire-hazards glued together. The city itself barely remembers most of these districts, save for their names. Villalobos is precisely one of those: an empty spot on the map where no one ever bothered to explain anything concrete. It was right there, in one of the cheap tenement houses, sixteen years ago, in the year seventy-five of the current century, a child was born.
Their mother, seemingly soft, yet of the sort whose disposition can shift three times a day: one moment cheerful and chattering without pause, the next suddenly falling silent for twenty-four hours to stare at a blank wall, then plunging into cleaning as if her life depended on it, only to drop everything midway. The neighbors are used to it and don't bat an eye. There is no malice in her, but... simply no predictability whatsoever. The father is merely an unknown man to them, who left for work either at the port or even further west toward the Faubourg, and never returned. They aren't even sure they remember his face correctly, and gave up trying long ago.
They grew up in that tenement house among neighbors who changed faster than their names could be remembered—the ordinary poverty of an ordinary and not very respectable area.
They dress in whatever is at hand, a knitted cap with earflaps and tassels that perpetually slips down over the eyes, a long scarf, an overcoat two sizes too big, and beneath it a long skirt stitched together from a dozen different rags, where every single patch was once something else—someone's old curtain, a remnant of a tent, a scrap of uniform, bed linen. The hole in the coat sleeve was once just a hole, bringing the unpleasant problem of frostbite. It was patched up with a RCM insignia found in Roy's pawn shop from some drunken officer willing to sell the patch for three reals just to afford a bottle of "Potent Pilsner."
From about the age of twelve, they started sneaking out of Villalobos into neighboring Martinaise through the slums, simply because there were kids their age there. That is how they ran into a few marginal urchins, Cuno and Cunoesse. The relationship with them is the most important one they have: Cuno alternates between being crude, acting as protector, and pretending he doesn't know them at all if a stranger is nearby. He is almost always accompanied by Cunoesse, a girl with apparently a heavy past and an even heavier temperament, about whom Martinaise whispers all sorts of things—that she either fled from someone or did something truly horrific back where she came from. Cuno refuses to share information, whether out of fear or ignorance. Cunoesse has grown accustomed to them—she doesn't let them close, but she doesn't drive them away either, and that means quite a lot to them.
In the Fishing Village, they are known too. Lilienne, the fishmonger with a sword at her waist for intimidation, sometimes trades fish with them for a bunch of herbs. Little Lily, Lilienne's daughter, still very small at four or five years old, always sits in her hut while they keep an eye on her whenever the mother steps out for business. Lily's twin brothers, whose father drowned four years ago while drunk, never speak to them, but they don't need them to, wierd boys.
In Martinaise, there is also Annette, about ten years old, who helps her mother at the bookstore "Crimes, Novels, and Biographies of Famous People", they drop in there to warm up and listen to something interesting about books, and sometimes even get treats and tea from Plaisance.
And Cindy the Skull, an older girl who dyes her hair, paints graffiti with fuel oil, and genuinely considers herself part of some future art.
In the abandoned church of Dolores Dei, where they loved to sit and gawk at the massive stained-glass window of Dolores Dei and the huge hole in it caused by some clearly botched raiding operation, a strange new crowd has settled recently—a crew of ravers led by Andre, who dyes his hair with a toothbrush and is terrified to his bones that someone will notice his receding hairline (why the hell he told them all this is still a mystery). Beside him is Acele, his girlfriend, perpetually wired on stims. Noid, the most jittery of the lot, and Egg Head... seems simply a kind and amusing person whose sole line for any occasion is an enthusiastic "hardcore!" They've got it into their heads to turn the old church into a club for some new dance music. They like dropping in there just to sit and listen to their strange music; the guys seem cool and have a cool style.
There are also those they know only by sight: Evrart Claire and the dockers' union, Titus Hardie with his..."Hardie boys" (???), the Docks Measurehead whose conversation is best avoided, and a woman named Klaasje who barely leaves her room in the Whirling-in-Rags.
PERCEPTION [Medium: Success]— An overcoat from someone else's shoulder, at least five layers of darning from different years—someone mended this garment for years out of necessity, not out of a love for needlework. The patch on the sleeve is newer than the rest, but sewn by the same hand. The skirt is cobbled together from at least seven different fabrics: a floral pattern, a faded plaid, something dark green with gold embossing. Not a single rag repeats.
ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success]— Named after the peninsula in Mesque, this district is populated mostly by immigrants from the isola. It is known for its large housing projects and Mexican gangs, notable HBO for their culture rather than mere presence—it is a current flowing west of the river. Villalobos was notable for a certain fresco affair you were involved in. Nine thousand people, subjected to the fresco's message—all of Lakeside (Central Jamrock) and Villalobos, plus half of the Prominent Domains—voted on whether it should be removed or preserved. An entire street was walled off and turned into a poppy field by a deified gangster named Mazda, while his mortal enemy La Puta Madre exclusively hires former anti-narcotics officers to cultivate her own fields.
AUTHORITY [Medium: Success]— The patch on the sleeve is not about respect for you or your uniform. The child doesn't even remember precisely why they bought that specific piece of fabric from Roy instead of another. Your uniform is clearly not authority to them, but merely a recognizable silhouette that occasionally scares away drunks on the street late at night.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success]— It smells of stove smoke, not chemicals and not cosmetics. In this neighborhood, few can afford to smell simply of smoke and not something much worse. But who knows? Maybe you *wish* the child smelled of chemicals. You know, for *personal* purposes.
baratheonpilled
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
vaporwave
