ＳＰＡＣＥＳ .ＩＮＢＥＴＷＥＥＮ (WHIP tee hee)
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A U R O R E A N . Z E R ’ H U . of . L Y S Y S
nineteen . ines oussaidi
-B I O-
dreamy rori led a quiet life alone in the pastel dunes of lysys, weaving colourful tapestries and sculpting clay vases to sell in market to support solitary nomadic lifestyle. it wasn’t until she was traded an old whip pendant for some of her wares that anything else outside of her own little existence ever crossed her mind. the whip suit, once she tried it on for fun, was badly dinged up and a terrible dingy colour. it had obviously seen better days, but rori liked it so much, she wore it around even while making meals for herself. days passed and she remained in the armour, gazing skywards, her creations abandoned. “there are things meant for us, things we never dreamed.” a couple weeks passed this way before rori, feeling called, sought enlistment in nearby civilization.
-A B O U T-
l i k e s . community songs, sand slides, dune-boarding, lysean crabs ('only eating, they're nasty little things that will break your toes'), lysean asmr (bustling markets, chatter, wind, swirling sand etc.), kisses on her cheek, astronomy, drawing patterns from nature, trying new dyes, flying, relics, [WHIP NAME], dust shows (lysean fireworks, chemical manipulation of their atmosphere to create colorful sky shows), constant visual stimulation (but screens don't have the same comforting effect).
d i s l i k e s . leaving her glyders in her cabin, uncomfortable textures, dust show mishaps, cleaning up other people's messes (literally, she'll leave your dishes at the foot of your bed instead of cleaning them for you),
g o a l {s} .
f e a r {s} . losing the use of her hands/losing her hands (ask her, 'there are millions of ways to permanently injure your hands')
r u m o u r {s} .Comments (0)