vitainmorte | LIMELIGHT BIO

LIMELIGHT BIO

✯

Scarlet Swan

TEAM
Sun Sign

AGE
26ish

HEIGHT
5'4"/164cm

PRONOUNS
she/her

Appearance + Pings

Mid-back length silky red hair and blue eyes. She has small wings that come out of the back of her neck/under her ears and she also has a second pair of wings at her lower back. She's a bit pale, with freckles primarily over her nose/cheeks and also over the contours of the rest of her body. There's a diamond-ish star-shaped marking that extends top to bottom from her sternum to abdomen, and side to side somewhat over her breasts. There's an identical scar in the same position in her back. She has a tattoo of a lycoris flower on her right upper arm.

Her scent is mostly pleasantly mild/neutrally floral for those with sensitive noses, but there's a semi-permanent tang of weaponry of some sort. Like gun oil or metal. Pings as a normal mortal/bird-person, for now.

Limelight Info

Powers

Social Chameleon
A shapeshifting power. Shapeshifting is restricted to "accessory" bodyparts-- her wings (both sets), hair, and eyes. She can choose to shapeshift these body parts into different colors, small changes in appearances (like slitted pupils or changing her freckles to leopard spots/stripes/etc), or changing larger parts into a different animals', i.e. her sets of wings become cat ears and a tail instead. This gives her very small increases in senses like hearing and scenting, only lasts as long as the shapeshift does.
She can maintain a shape in her sleep, but not while knocked unconscious/"dead" or mortally injured.
People who know her decently or have worked with her know of this power.

Conservation-restoration
A healing power. Using a brush dipped in any sort of Colored Liquid (paint, HER OWN blood, coffee, etc) she can paint over and "edit"/heal injures. Small injuries only need small marks and may heal quickly, but larger injuries need some sort of recognizable shape/image and may take much longer.
This does not help with pain and leaves a temporary "tattoo" on the target for a day or so after the healing is complete.
Power is unknown to others.

Power 1
Details of power go here!

Limelight AU

here for au stuff.

tl;dr Moretta Cygnus daylights as a popular anonymous modern artist under the moniker Kestrel Meteor and moonlights as a hitman for the Falling Stars branch of the Cordionna organized crime family. She was born into and raised to do it and views her targets as vermin. In the day to day she's an almost-shameless flirt and appreciator of stupid buff men and tall women that come on strong. Also deeply a coffee lover.

Names people might know her by:
- Moretta Cygnus: She introduces herself with this to 99% of people. Her Eonia/civilian name.
- Lycoris: the name given to her by her blood family/the Cordionna. Essentially a "work" name. "Cori" by Aloe/Val.
- Red: Nickname used by Brocade or most anyone who doesn't actually know/remember her name.
- Kestrel Meteor: An anonymous modern artist whose works sell at auction for sometimes obscene amounts of money. Very few people would know this about her and she often gets misgendered under this name since she's mostly anon. She's fine with that.
- swan_latte/"swan": twitter username. Mostly posts WIPs and sketches of whatever she's got going on at any given time. Mostly all personal works/fun fandom pieces with a semi-realism bend. This account seems to have been abandoned.

Moretta Cygnus is dead.

This woman's name is Scarlet, a recent member of The Sun Sign. She's reluctant to speak about her past.

Permissions

SHIPPING
yes

SMUT
yes

VIOLENCE
yes talk to me

KILLING
yes talk to me

Player Comfort Notes

no detailed desc of fingernail or teeth trauma

character kink list

code by puddings

Character Canon
OC (hsr au)

Player
pep

Contact
p: pepperpie | d: falselastact

DM Policy
chat anytime

Inbox/Extras
IC Inbox

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

tbd

showmaster's farming sim

---

“If you leave nothing to regrow, even the immortal can experience the mercy of the Great One.”

The young girl watched as her mother set the body on the pyre alight. It went up at once with a hot wind, ruffling her feathers. The bound creature within the fire moaned and wailed, but was soon drowned out by the crackling roar of the flames.

She felt her father’s warm hand stroking her hair as she clung to his leg, watching the figure writhe and stiffen and go black in the heat. The air was sweet around them, as if they were burning only the fragrant wood, and there was no fear in her. Only fascination, watching her mother’s strong back with awe as sparks danced around her like shooting stars, illuminating her halo.

“There is no place in a harmonious world for creatures such as these,” she continued, her voice even and allowing no question. “It is such beasts that bring strife and misery to the people, and it is our duty to pave the way for THEIR return. We cannot allow such beings to walk in THEIR light, among the faithful.”

Her mother turned back to her, fixing the girl in her stern gaze. There was no joy on her face– this did not bring her happiness. The girl understood that this was her most solemn duty.

“As well as yours,” her mother said. “Soon you will be stable enough to partake in our work. You will grant a most merciful end to those wretched beasts that threaten the peace of our system. Remember, always: suffer not the unworthy to live in THEIR shadow.”

The girl thought she understood. They remained until the fire burned low, and then out, leaving nothing but a smoking pile of carbonized wood. She kneeled beside the ashes, where the charcoal-black hand of the beast stretched out in their final plea for mercy.

She placed her small fingers against it, watched it crumble to dust, and felt nothing.

Edited 2025-03-18 02:36 (UTC)

demiurge/dame's deduction game

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balatro - pack of cards, shuffle to view

---

this thread

tl;dr:

In what seems to be a jail, alarms start blazing and automatic blast doors begin to shutter. Valencia is already running-- there's the sense of a hugely terrifying pressure behind her, one that calls out her name and hunts her down. She escapes out the front to a hail of bullets aimed for what the guardsmen assumed was the creature giving chase-- which she dodges by sliding out and under their fire. She takes out her own rifle and aims for the thing that had quickly caught up (there is another larger man behind him; familiar with redheaded, pointy ears, bushy tail). Her bullets basically vaporize him from the waist up, sending gore and slag all over.

The man who Absolutely Is Not Brocade looks disappointed that the fight is over, but Valencia seems to know it isn't-- she directs the watching guards to run as the undead corpse fully reforms, smelling sickly sweet. Something rises in her chest with the panic, glittering and whispering, coaxing her to death, such that she can barely hear the way both Not-Brocade and the dragon-man attempt to calm her down. Many strange things happen at once, in and out of visual consciousness; a bright light, the cracking of something high above them, the buzzing of wings. Sirens. People screaming. Someone grabbing her-- her own hand driving a knife into their side as they cart her away.

Cracks spidering through the street, where eyes watch her as they run, tracking their movements. They're at the docks, in her ship, and she barely knows how she got here. She has to help (she can't help. There's nothing she can do.)

Valencia falls into practiced, thoughtless motions, as she takes control of her ship and gets them out of that doomed port planet.

Edited 2025-03-20 02:23 (UTC)

bandaids to apply (multi use)

---

flipbook with a still from the memory (infinite share)

---

You're floating in and out of consciousness. The light above you is dim, barely illuminating the people who whisper to each other near you.

There's something on your face, air crisp and cool. Something beeps faintly behind you. You can feel your eyes growing heavy again.

"It's showing remarkable stability," the man says softly; the shadows are too deep to see him.

Halfway obscured is a redheaded woman, face obscured by her loose hair draped over one shoulder. Her neckwings are folded primly against her neck, the spikes of her golden halo shaper in the cold light. "It's about time," she says. "This venture is getting quite expensive."

"No worries," another man says jovially, as he leads the woman away. "She'll be up and at 'em soon enough."

You're so tired. All at once the energy in your chest seems to drain and darkness takes you again.

Edited 2025-03-26 14:56 (UTC)

A first solo mission is almost never expected to go off entirely without a hitch, but Lycoris’ mother’s expectations went far beyond reasonability. That was okay. She could meet it– always did meet it. Lycoris did not fail.

This was not a failure. It was a great success, in fact, but the mess of gore at her feet that was once perhaps a person told a slightly different story. She’d never felt sick at the sight of blood, before, but there was something in the slick warmth rapidly cooling on her face and hands, sticky and tight, that turned her stomach. Something on her hurt, but she couldn’t remember what hit her.

She inhales, iron tang on the stagnant air. Exhales. Stares at the corpse for long enough that it seems almost like all the color has drained out of the area, gone to grayscale, the blood indistinguishable from the rest of the liquid muck in the warehouse. The meat and mud become one, and suddenly, she’s not sure if she’s done enough. Is this enough? Could it ever be? Her shoulders ache, but she reaches down to sink her fingers into what might have been a neck.

“Oh, shit. Cori.”

It’s almost like being hit by lightning. Her gaze jolts up, into the bafflingly yellow bright spot among the colorless surroundings: Val, standing there with wide eyes, taking the scene in. Lycoris wonders what he sees, why he’s come, but the thoughts filter uselessly away. They don’t matter, do they?

He approaches quickly, his hands on her shoulder, her wrist– coaxing her to release the dead meat. She hadn’t realized she was holding it so tightly, or that her body was so tense, as he pulls her back. “You did good,” he was saying, urging her back enough that the corpse was fully out of reach. There was a slight tremor in his voice; she could feel it as much as she could hear it, in his grip on her. “You did it. It’s time to leave it.”

She stood still, eyes still on her fallen quarry until Val turned her fully around. His hands were careful on her, trembling. She looked up at his face, the carefully schooled expression. “... I did good?” she finally asks, and he pauses.

“Yeah,” he says, wiping blood from her face. His hands are warm. His fingers tremble. Some tension seeps out of her shoulders. “Yeah. Your mother will be real pleased.”

Edited 2025-05-12 16:09 (UTC)

Lycoris stands up, panting, and resisting the urge to rub her hand over her face. It was warm– feverishly so– which was a sure way to know she’d expended too much energy getting this job done. It was always annoying when a job took longer than expected to complete and this was meant to be a one-and-done extermination. But pests had a way of moving in groups, and this one was no different.

It did unfortunately mean that her usual single bullet wasn’t enough, though. She thinks about how she should really get moving as she shakes some blood off of her hands, grimacing. Then the door opens.

Lycoris stares at the figure filling up the doorway for a long moment. Why was the barman here? Ah, what a shame. He’s so handsome, too. It’s inconvenient that he had to come when her energy was so low but she could take care of him easy enough, surely. Especially when he’s not expecting it. “Mr. Bartender,” she says with a friendly smile, her neck feathers fluffing pleasantly. Her hand at her hip, subtly unclipping her holster.

“Miss Moretta,” he responds. “Good evening.” He does not seem disturbed, which is weird. In fact, his gaze travels easily from her to the mess around her, with the air of someone adding up their savings on a receipt.

She’s quiet for another moment before she fully unclips her gun and says, “Well, this has been nice, but–”

“Ah. I’m here to clean.” It stops her dead, which was probably the goal. Or maybe he just sensed the general confusion around her.

“... Sorry?”

“Though I suppose I’m a bit early,” he continues, checking the time. He is not early, Moretta knows, and she clips her gun back in, waving a hand a bit. She’s already been here too long– she can feel fever setting in, her body growing far too warm. Time to go.

“Ah, no, I’m running a bit late. My apologies. Let me get out of your way…” She goes to move past him but pauses, as he holds out a folded towel.

“If you’d like,” he says, “I have extra.”

She takes it with an embarrassed smile. “That bad, huh?” Vincent shakes his head, and she continues as she cleans her face and hands off, “Have you been the one cleaning up all my messes? That’s embarrassing, but it’s nice to see you. Thanks for the hard work. I’ll come by soon.”

“That would be lovely. Have a good evening, Miss,” He says in return. She does not stay; if he’s the one who’s been cleaning her last few messy kills she knows the impeccable quality of his work already. No sense in staying when she needed rest. Vincent turns to watch her leave, until she closes the door behind her, leaving him to his work.

“Convallaria is gone.”

Lycoris was long used to her mother’s cold and impassive gaze, but today was different. The woman– Anticlea– seated behind the desk before her was nearly her twin, if elegantly aged and tightly controlled, from the uncreased leather of her shoes to the impressively tight bun of her red hair, not a stray out of place. Normally she was the perfect picture of neutral cool, but today rage colored every inch of tension on her, even her neckwings fluffed with indignance.

… Gone, what did she mean “gone?” Was he dead? Did he fail a mission? She just saw him not long ago. Things could change quickly in that time, surely, but he was better than to be taken out by the chumps they were set on lately. Did someone else hunt him down? A rival gang…? She hadn’t heard anything, but her fingers were not as deep in the veins of information as her mother’s. … But her mother’s demeanor was far too stiff to denote a “loss” of some sort. She did not expect her mother to grieve Val, of course, that was not her way but– surely, if something had happened to him–

She must have taken a moment too long to process because Anticlea’s hand slammed abruptly down onto the desk. Lycoris straightened up instantly. She could feel the alarm slim her feathers down, wings pressed tight to her body. “Mother,” she said, more to stall for an extra second than anything, “I’m sorry, I don’t know– what do you mean by “gone?” Is V– Convallaria alright?”

“You mean to imply you have no knowledge of his betrayal, then,” her mother said, slowly standing. A wolf sizing up its prey, eyes intense and prowling stiff-legged around the desk.

Though she was not prey she felt small under that stare, under the accusation, like a dog with its tail between its legs. She remained still and stiff herself though, steadily meeting her mother’s gaze with her own, confused. “Betrayal?” she repeated. The color at the edges of her vision began to fade. Betrayal? He left? “No, of course not, I– I haven’t even seen him, since the last joint job…”

Anticlea stared for a moment longer before seeming to accept this, heaving a sigh and sitting back against the edge of her desk. Her fingers found her temple, rubbing there. “Of course you would not lie to me, Lycoris. I trained you better than that. I thought I had trained Convallaria better than this as well, but now he’s gone and made a fool of us. The time, money, and effort going into training you was not cheap, Lycoris. Do you know that?”

“Yes, Mother. We are an investment for the future of the business.” The words, often said, come easily. She steadied her breath. The familiar sensation of disconnect slowly washed over her, swaddling her in a cotton shroud that muffled the noise both within her head and without.

“That’s right. The world needs exterminators to cleanse the impure vermin, just as we do,” her mother says. “And for one of ours, so lovingly sculpted to our exact needs, to turn on us…” Anticlea sighed, a growling thing. “Ungrateful welp.”

Lycoris wondered, briefly, if her mother called her here simply to vent. That was fine, but… “... Mother, shall I…?” Go after him? Find him? … Exterminate him? She didn’t linger too long on that last thought. She couldn’t, really. It slipped through the fog like a wisp.

“No, no,” came the distant voice. “Things are still in motion. If the situation progresses we will have Lavandula look into…”

The voice faded into noise. She didn’t bother to try filtering it through the rest of the grey, thoughts swimming uselessly. Van had already been outside the city, busy with his own tasks.

And now Val was gone.

There was a feeling she didn’t recognize, her body cast adrift in the dense, colorless fog. Insulating. Isolating.

“...racts… ris? Lycoris!”

She was suddenly jolted back into her own body, and immediately repeated without fully understanding what she was saying, “The leftover contracts he’d abandoned are my duty now. Yes, Mother, I heard you.” She paused, then lifted a hand to rub her face. “My apologies. I was briefly lost in thought.”

“I didn’t raise you to think.” Her mother’s steely expression was doubtful and displeased, but she seemed to let it go as she went to sit back down.

“You’ll no longer be going on partnered missions, of course,” she said, “as there are no bodies to spare that can meet the quality of your work.” A brief silence stretched between them, and Anticlea sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You have your assignments. Pick them up from Rhus on your way out.

Return victorious, Lycoris. Or not at all.”

Lycoris inclined her head, and turned, quickly leaving her mother’s office.

Edited 2025-05-16 17:26 (UTC)

Lights out was twenty minutes ago, and something was tapping on Lycoris’s door.

She was a light sleeper at the best of times– ever vigilant, ever paranoid– but admittedly this was a bit strange. For one, her bedroom was at the end of the hall, so no one had any reason to pass by, and two–

“Cori. C’mon, open up.”

Someone was whispering outside it.

She was already up and across the room by the time the voice had reached her, cracking the door open. Val stood there, messy hair and gangly teenage limbs, already too tall for his age. He beamed down at her, nudging the door with his foot. “Let me in so we can talk.”

“It’s already lights out,” Lycoris complained, brow knit, but let him in and closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, but I got an idea,” Val said, grinning. He crossed over to her window, cracking it open to look down at the ground below before turning back to her. “Wanna go see a movie?”

She stared at him for a long moment. They weren’t allowed to go out to see movies. Once in a rare while they would be allowed to watch one here, or the educational ones in school. But leaving? And– especially this late at night?

“But– Mother says we can’t,” Lycoris said, even as Val started to climb over the windowsill. There’s a trellis there, leading down the two stories to the ground. She went over to try to pull him back in, but he put his hand over hers. “Val, if we get caught–”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “we’ll get at least thirty lashes for this for sure. If we get caught.”

Lycoris glanced back at the door, then down at the ground. Seeing a movie… she’d never been to the theater before. It wasn’t that she wanted to be rebellious, or anything, but the yearning for a new experience– and Val’s infectious smile– made the temptation to climb over the sill with him all the more alluring.

“What about– we should get your brother?” She says, uncertain, and for some reason Val’s cheeks go a bit pink.

“Actually, I thought… This time it could be just the two of us,” he said. Somehow he looks a bit sheepish, and the way he smiles when he meets her eyes makes Lycoris’ cheeks heat up. She could feel her neckwings start to fluff, the feathers puffed up around her cheeks in a telltale sign of embarrassment, but this time Val didn’t tease her about it.

Something ached in her chest, a little, and any thought of potential consequence went out the window.

“-- Okay. Yeah. Let’s go,” she mumbled behind her wings, and Val’s face beamed.

“Miss Lycoris,” he said brightly, offering his hand to help her over the sill and onto the trellis. Which she did take… and then immediately started climbing down on her own. He clearly meant to help her down, because he fumbled his grip and slid down half the trellis before catching himself, and she watched from below him with her brows raised.

“What’re you doing…”

“I was trying to be polite,” he said, red with embarrassment and releasing a petulant huff, climbing down the rest of the way. “Y’know, like, ‘cause you’re a lady and all.”

Lycoris barely withheld a snort as she said “That’s pretty cringe.” Though she couldn’t exactly fight down the blush that rose with it.

Val just mumbles a “Hey…” As he passes by her.

Escaping the guarded facility that was their home was the hardest part. Once they were out into the streets, free from the suspicious eyes of guards things went much more smoothly. They never quite relaxed, but they knew these areas well as part of their training, and it was easy to duck into shaded areas if they thought they might be caught. It was… exciting. Exhilarating, to do something so obviously against the rules, side by side with the person she trusted most in the world. He reached back for her as they wandered the streets to the theater, taking her hand in his larger one– warm, calloused, long-fingered and a little awkward, but staring at his back as he guided her to their destination Lycoris only felt a longing, aching warmth in her chest.

They reached the theater soon enough and… did not go in through the front. Of course they didn’t have money for tickets, and they were two unaccompanied teenagers besides. But Val had clearly been here before because he led her to the backside of the building and one of the maintenance ladders to the roof. He followed up behind her, then trotted over to what looked like an emergency hatch that must have led to one of the storage rooms, holding it open for her as she dropped down, silent as a cat; from there it was smooth sailing, finding one of the emptier theater rooms with a movie that had just started, and sitting near the back where the projector room worker wouldn’t see them as easily.

It was a beautiful sight, that massive screen and the actors performing upon it, the whole room shaking with the stereo noise of explosions and music. Val had somehow managed to nab a bag of popcorn for them as well between pre-show trailers, and they pushed the armrest up to sit closer together so they could share it.

She remembered the movie well enough– some subpar action flick with well-known faces– but it was Val that took up most of her attention, even when she wasn’t looking at him. The way he laughed at the (terribly, badly-written) jokes on screen, the way his fingers would flinch lightly back to let her go first when they touched reaching for the the popcorn at the same time. The way his arm came around her shoulders when she finally leaned against his side to share the seat more comfortably, or how his smile went kind of stupid when she curled up against him. That one she poked at him for, and delighted in how warm his face got, vibrant even in the dark.

When the movie ended and they finally returned home, there was a vibrancy in the world around her she wasn’t sure she’d noticed before. A sort of giddiness in her chest, warm and ticklish, that kept the unusual happiness from slipping through the broken pieces of her. This time, when Val affectionately called her Miss Lycoris she allowed him to help her through the window, her grip on his hands firm, his smile infectious.

Edited 2025-05-24 06:18 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

LIMELIGHT BIO

INVENTORY

MEMORIES

1 - Day 236 (neutral/apathy?)

2 - Day 239 (heartbreak?)

3 - Day 242 (Gambling/risk taking or clowns)

4 - speed hating (lie/confession)

5 - tell a story (stories/experiments)

memshare event

first solo mission

caught in the act

i didn't raise you to think

movie night