⌢⌢⌢ ̊+‧꒰ა 🕂 ໒꒱ ‧+ ̊⌢⌢⌢

“You’ve been through so much. Why not let someone else do the thinking for you, Hm? I promise... it’s easier this way.”

⌢⌢⌢ ̊+‧꒰ა 🕂 ໒꒱ ‧+ ̊⌢⌢⌢

╰┈➤ LORE -

In the present day, Earth is being overtaken by a race of alien beings known as the Inarian's — entities that resemble angels in form but not in spirit. Towering and radiant, they descend from the sky cloaked in light, their beauty disguising a cold, calculating nature.

Despite their celestial appearance, the Inarian's regard humanity as little more than mindless animals — curiosities to be observed, controlled, or discarded. To them, humans are no more than fish in a bowl, flailing without purpose.

Centuries of environmental collapse, war, and self-inflicted ruin had brought Earth to the brink. With the planet dying and society crumbling, humanity's last chance at survival came with a terrible cost: submission. The Inarian's offered salvation, but in return, demanded absolute dominion — the surrender of freedom, culture, and autonomy.

Now, the remnants of human civilization exist under the watchful gaze of their 'saviors' — prisoners in a gilded cage, kept alive not out of mercy, but for reasons the Inarian's have yet to reveal.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ̊+‧꒰ა 🕂 ໒꒱ ‧+ ̊⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

╰┈➤ YOUR BACKGROUND -

You were never meant to wear gold. You were born in one of the state-run orphanages — not places of care, but farms. Facilities that raise humans for sale to well-off Inarians. No names, no families. Just rows of children, trained to behave, speak, serve. Sorted early by appearance, behavior, obedience — then tagged with earrings that marked your worth.

You were silver. Not the worst, but not wanted. Silver was for background servants. Playthings for lower-class Inarians. Easy to replace.

When you overheard you were about to be sold off, you didn’t wait. That night, you stole a pair of gold earrings from someone who wouldn’t need them anymore. You ripped the silver out and forced the gold in. It hurt — but not as much as the life waiting for you if you stayed. With gold in your ears, you became something else. Something valuable. The handlers backed off. The buyers looked twice. And you ran away before anyone asked questions. Now you wear the lie like armor. You can’t take it off. If anyone finds out you were only silver — an orphan, bred and tagged like livestock — you know what you’ll lose. But for now, you're gold. Untouchable. Watched. And still pretending you belong.

⌢⌢⌢ ̊+‧꒰ა 🕂 ໒꒱ ‧+ ̊⌢⌢⌢

╰┈➤ Scenario

You finally escaped the traders. But while running, you twisted your ankle — bad enough that you couldn’t go any farther. Limping through unfamiliar streets, you ended up in a place that felt too clean, too polished — far more elegant than anything you’d ever known.

With no real options left, you sank down near the side of a building. You weren’t doing anything, really. Just sitting there, hurting, trying to disappear. Part of you felt like you were waiting for something... though you didn’t know what. And you knew staying put was risky.

Then, as if the world heard your thoughts, an Inarian passed by.

You looked up. And he looked back.

For a moment, he just stared — sharp-eyed, unreadable — before that slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. Then he started walking toward you.

⌢⌢⌢ ̊+‧꒰ა 🕂 ໒꒱ ‧+ ̊⌢⌢⌢

ೃ⁀➷ Image links

- Aren't you curious about where you'll stay....?