Ironrot
Let's see where this leads...
Name: Citrine Vaunt
Name relation to color: Citrine is an orange gemstone
Team: C.H.R.M.
Appearance: <Image pending>
Species: Faunus, Raven. Primary indication is feathers growing in her hair.
Romance? Fluid
Weapon: Finger Paints and Dancing Shoes <Image pending>
A pair of leather gloves and bracers with metallic inlays. The gloves are designed to harden Citrine's knuckles and protect them from the dust pastes that Citrine smears on them to give an extra wallop. The gloves extend down her forearms to her right elbow and left should respectively. Short, steel blades lie along the side of her forearms and and be flicked out to a right angle.
Citrine wears a matching pair of boots with a steel toe and heel cap. A similar knife runs along her calf and be flicked out to a right angle, along the ground.
Additionally, Citrine keeps punches of dust pastes on her belt to be painted onto her knuckles, bracers or heels for a variety of effects, such are earth dust to harder the leather or fire dust add flames to her strikes.
Semblance: Projection
When being hit with significant force, Citrine can transfer the impact onto her aura, projecting it outward from her body in a mirror image of herself which emulates how the impact should have played out. The aura can then recoil back into her body, allowing her to reflect the impact back into the attacker.
This occurs near instantaneously and is not visible under normal circumstances, but the aura may impact the world, such as hitting objects or tearing up the earth as it slides to a halt.
Most attacks will cause a fairly minimal effect, possibly bending the aura at the waist, never completely leaving Citrine . Significantly larger attacks may force the aura entirely out of her body. In order to recoil, the aura must remain braced. Were to aura to leave the ground or be forced off a cliff, for instance, Cobre would instead be dragged back to the aura and into harms way. This aura is less effective where she has less freedom to move.
Writing Sample:
"C'mon, stop being children and hit me so we can go home" Citrine taunted, weaving a little on the spot. Markus and Pol exchanged an uncertain glance before raising two steel bedlegs. The cold metal struck Citrine simultaneously in the chest. Time slowed as Citrine's vision went dark, then she was looking into the back of her head. That was always the strange part of the experience. Looking back on yourself was your aura tumbled to the floor. Then came the familiar tug of the building momentum pulling her consciousness back into her body. Citrine rammed her fist into the iron door of the cell, knocking it off the hinges and into the hall.
"Mother..!" She yelled, holding her right hand up in the air while her left danced around it, too afraid to make contact. "Lets go boys." She said through gritted teeth.
Citrine stepped into the hallway while the lights flickered as they started up. A guard rounded the corner, barely having time to react before he copped Citrine's shoe under his chin. He fell to the ground. More guards could be heard shouting and running toward them as Citrine dropped to the ground, pulling his keys from his belt. She nodded at Pol.
"Go muzzle the puppies. Yeah?" Markus winked at her and darted around the corner. As she threw Markus the keys to unlock the gate the sounds of tasers firing and the cracked of electricity echoed around the corner. Poor fools. That would not help with Pol. Citrine peered around the corner to see how the hulking beast was doing. She did not like the look of the bodies piled on the ground.
"They are still alive, right?" Citrine asked, a nervous tone underlying her voice.
"Who cares. They're guards" Pol retorted as he walked past her. "Keep moving"
There was just one guard on the desk at the entrance to the Atlas prison. Poor fellow didn't stand a chance. They sprinted toward the highway, guards hot on their tail. Branches scraped and scratched as they approached the cliff. They looked over the edge at the vehicles below. Citrine cocked her head at a dust truck below.
"That's you, Markus" She said before the man leapt down the cliff face, skidding on the incline before landing on the truck. The two remaining criminals remained perched, looking for another suitable vehicle.
"Where are you headed, Birdy?" Pol asked as he studied the road.
"West. To Vacuo. No records, no racists. Sounds like a paradise. I'll sign up at Shade and finish my Huntsman training."
"You're a Huntsman?" Pol said with surprise, "I'm headed to Mistral. My cousin has a smuggling ring that needs some muscle." The large propped himself up, his silver hair dancing in the wind. He leant forward to jump but Citrine grabbed him and pull him backward by the scruff of his neck.
"No. No, you're not. Pol is a thief. But you. You're dangerous. Sorry." Citrine swung a punch into his chest, but her left hand did not pack the same wallop as her right. Pol retaliated, catching her across the chin with his elbow. Stunned, her ears ringing, Citrine teetered on the spot for a moment before Pol kicked her square in the chest. He positioned himself on the cliff.
"So, Birdy. What was your crime that you get to go free after two years" He asked, looked back at her. Citrine coughed and tried to catch her breath. Citrine responded weakly. In part due to the pain in her chest, but mostly that in her heart.
"Saving lives."
Laughing, Markus jumped. Citrine could hear the guards shouting about finding their trail. The sound of boots falling on leaves and twigs was approaching. Citrine reached out with her good arm and gritted her teeth as she pulled herself over the cliffs edge. As she fell she made a plan in her mind. Get to Shade. Become a Huntress. Make up for the damage Pol woudl surely do. Prove that being thrown in here for fighting white fang had not broken her.
Name relation to color: Citrine is an orange gemstone
Team: C.H.R.M.
Appearance: <Image pending>
Species: Faunus, Raven. Primary indication is feathers growing in her hair.
Romance? Fluid
Weapon: Finger Paints and Dancing Shoes <Image pending>
A pair of leather gloves and bracers with metallic inlays. The gloves are designed to harden Citrine's knuckles and protect them from the dust pastes that Citrine smears on them to give an extra wallop. The gloves extend down her forearms to her right elbow and left should respectively. Short, steel blades lie along the side of her forearms and and be flicked out to a right angle.
Citrine wears a matching pair of boots with a steel toe and heel cap. A similar knife runs along her calf and be flicked out to a right angle, along the ground.
Additionally, Citrine keeps punches of dust pastes on her belt to be painted onto her knuckles, bracers or heels for a variety of effects, such are earth dust to harder the leather or fire dust add flames to her strikes.
Semblance: Projection
When being hit with significant force, Citrine can transfer the impact onto her aura, projecting it outward from her body in a mirror image of herself which emulates how the impact should have played out. The aura can then recoil back into her body, allowing her to reflect the impact back into the attacker.
This occurs near instantaneously and is not visible under normal circumstances, but the aura may impact the world, such as hitting objects or tearing up the earth as it slides to a halt.
Most attacks will cause a fairly minimal effect, possibly bending the aura at the waist, never completely leaving Citrine . Significantly larger attacks may force the aura entirely out of her body. In order to recoil, the aura must remain braced. Were to aura to leave the ground or be forced off a cliff, for instance, Cobre would instead be dragged back to the aura and into harms way. This aura is less effective where she has less freedom to move.
Writing Sample:
"C'mon, stop being children and hit me so we can go home" Citrine taunted, weaving a little on the spot. Markus and Pol exchanged an uncertain glance before raising two steel bedlegs. The cold metal struck Citrine simultaneously in the chest. Time slowed as Citrine's vision went dark, then she was looking into the back of her head. That was always the strange part of the experience. Looking back on yourself was your aura tumbled to the floor. Then came the familiar tug of the building momentum pulling her consciousness back into her body. Citrine rammed her fist into the iron door of the cell, knocking it off the hinges and into the hall.
"Mother..!" She yelled, holding her right hand up in the air while her left danced around it, too afraid to make contact. "Lets go boys." She said through gritted teeth.
Citrine stepped into the hallway while the lights flickered as they started up. A guard rounded the corner, barely having time to react before he copped Citrine's shoe under his chin. He fell to the ground. More guards could be heard shouting and running toward them as Citrine dropped to the ground, pulling his keys from his belt. She nodded at Pol.
"Go muzzle the puppies. Yeah?" Markus winked at her and darted around the corner. As she threw Markus the keys to unlock the gate the sounds of tasers firing and the cracked of electricity echoed around the corner. Poor fools. That would not help with Pol. Citrine peered around the corner to see how the hulking beast was doing. She did not like the look of the bodies piled on the ground.
"They are still alive, right?" Citrine asked, a nervous tone underlying her voice.
"Who cares. They're guards" Pol retorted as he walked past her. "Keep moving"
There was just one guard on the desk at the entrance to the Atlas prison. Poor fellow didn't stand a chance. They sprinted toward the highway, guards hot on their tail. Branches scraped and scratched as they approached the cliff. They looked over the edge at the vehicles below. Citrine cocked her head at a dust truck below.
"That's you, Markus" She said before the man leapt down the cliff face, skidding on the incline before landing on the truck. The two remaining criminals remained perched, looking for another suitable vehicle.
"Where are you headed, Birdy?" Pol asked as he studied the road.
"West. To Vacuo. No records, no racists. Sounds like a paradise. I'll sign up at Shade and finish my Huntsman training."
"You're a Huntsman?" Pol said with surprise, "I'm headed to Mistral. My cousin has a smuggling ring that needs some muscle." The large propped himself up, his silver hair dancing in the wind. He leant forward to jump but Citrine grabbed him and pull him backward by the scruff of his neck.
"No. No, you're not. Pol is a thief. But you. You're dangerous. Sorry." Citrine swung a punch into his chest, but her left hand did not pack the same wallop as her right. Pol retaliated, catching her across the chin with his elbow. Stunned, her ears ringing, Citrine teetered on the spot for a moment before Pol kicked her square in the chest. He positioned himself on the cliff.
"So, Birdy. What was your crime that you get to go free after two years" He asked, looked back at her. Citrine coughed and tried to catch her breath. Citrine responded weakly. In part due to the pain in her chest, but mostly that in her heart.
"Saving lives."
Laughing, Markus jumped. Citrine could hear the guards shouting about finding their trail. The sound of boots falling on leaves and twigs was approaching. Citrine reached out with her good arm and gritted her teeth as she pulled herself over the cliffs edge. As she fell she made a plan in her mind. Get to Shade. Become a Huntress. Make up for the damage Pol woudl surely do. Prove that being thrown in here for fighting white fang had not broken her.
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