✰ ・ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Rчn Noır. - Blog Posts
𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝… 【 fka twigs //. cis-female //. she, her 】 Welcome, RYN NOIR. You have successfully been loaded into The Hub. According to our records, you are THIRTY-SIX and have held citizenship for TWENTY-ONE YEARS in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as VERSATILE and INSOLENT. Please confirm your CHAOTIC NEUTRAL to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with THE JAZZ COMBO CABARET as HEAD ENTERTAINER //. MIXOLOGIST at ELYSIUM //. ASSOCIATE for the DIAMOND KINGS //. HONOVII of THE FORGOTTEN. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least moving like liquid light, shifting forms with every step, you dance a whispered spell that bends reality. Each motion transcends the flesh, as you become something more—unbound, ethereal, a force of nature woven through rhythm and grace; Draped in black latex, heels sharp as your gaze, a chip pulsing beneath your skin—you're no longer the child of the left behind, now a storm of steel and shadows and //. or CAT PEOPLE (PUTTING OUT FIRE) BY DAVID BOWIE. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe. 】
CHAPTER I: See these eyes, so green? I can stare for a thousand years...
You’re a storm born from dust and decay, the aftermath of a world that crumbled before you were even a thought. A child of the end, two years after the fall—yet they call you Forgotten. Like a curse whispered, you wear it, let it slide off your skin. What’s left to care about when you’ve outlived the destruction of everything? Your people? They didn’t care, either. The dead world never broke them. They built something new from the bones of the old, survived when the moon came crashing down, wiped away the tears that stained their cheeks, and dug in deeper. Together, they made a tribe from the ruins, bound by hunger, loss, and the echoes of a life that no longer existed. Your mother told you once—you were a miracle. Born when the world was poison, when radiation from sunstones above scorched the earth and sickness took everything. She lost your father before you ever knew him, claimed by the same illness that plagued so many. The Underground wasn’t finished, wasn’t safe, but you lived. You thrived. You remember the dirt under your feet, the wild abandon of running through the tunnels with the other children. The lessons—they were always lessons. How to survive, how to grow food, how to speak to the plants and coax life from a dead earth. Food was scarce, but no one hoarded. Greed had ruined the world once. Your people wouldn’t let it happen again. They believed they were saved for a reason, spared from the wrath that fell on those who tried to play God. Your leaders taught that the world was now the way it was meant to be—humbled, stripped of the desires that had led to ruin. It was a harsh doctrine, but you soaked it in. You learned fast. By twelve, you were a hunter, eyes trained to read the skies for danger, muscles honed through brutal training. You moved through the world above, navigating the craters and scars of the earth with ease. You saw life there, twisted but persistent, and it stirred something in you—something that grew when you caught sight of the barrier, glowing in the distance. The world beyond called to you, even as your tribe preached caution, preached restraint. When your time came, you left without hesitation. Neo California awaited, and with it, a new kind of life. You didn’t look back. You promised you’d return. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t. The city hit you like a slap to the face. Neon lights, steel towers, the hum of machines. It was a different kind of wild. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with nature. But you were trained for survival. Your first night, you nearly died, but you fought back, muscles and instinct saving you in the moment that counted. The city was sin. You knew that. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. The art, the beauty, the chaos—it wrapped around you, pulled you in deeper. You danced, as you had in the tunnels, but here your movements became something more. You bent your body into shapes that made people stare, made them applaud. You fed on their praise, found yourself craving it. Was it a sin to want more than survival? To feel joy in the excess, in the creation of something beautiful? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. But the city changed you. Hardened you. Made you forget. You swore you wouldn’t, but the years passed, and the memories of home grew distant. The city taught you its own lessons—ones about greed, about desire, about the selfishness that lingered in every dark corner. It was a different kind of danger, one you had to learn to navigate. You kept your distance, kept your heart locked away. But you grew sharp. The city made you hard, made you fierce. And still, somehow, you found a strange kind of peace in its chaos.
CHAPTER II: See these eyes, so red? Red like jungle burning bright...
You’ve grown accustomed to the sharp edges of this city—Neo California, a place where survival is a skill and trust is a luxury. Day after day, you witness the struggles of those who can’t defend themselves, swallowed by the dog-eat-dog world that thrives within the barrier. You’ve learned not to interfere, not to let the chaos pull you under. But sometimes, fate has other plans. It’s on a night like any other, the neon lights casting eerie shadows, that you're outnumbered by a so-called "super fan" and his gang of hungry wolves after a shift at the Jazz Combo Cabaret. You, who have always danced through danger, suddenly find yourself cornered. But salvation comes in an unexpected form—the leader of The Diamond Kings, a ghost among legends. They steps in, and just like that, the tide shifts. You’re grateful, but not overly so. Survival is a dance, after all, and you’ve danced alone for so long. Yet something changes that night. A bond begins to weave itself between you, subtle but undeniable. The meetings happen more often—an unspoken understanding. The physical and emotional lines blur, but you both know that in this city, time is as fleeting as safety. It’s a connection neither of you can afford to fully explore, but on the hardest nights, when the weight of the world presses in too tight, one of you always finds the other’s door. No words are needed. A quiet understanding passes between you, a respite from the city’s constant roar. Eventually, you make a decision—not fully entangled, but tied enough to feel the pull. You agree to become an associate, a silent observer. Report what you see, they tell you, and they’ll handle the rest. You don’t like getting involved, not in a way that binds you to more trouble than it’s worth. But there’s a flicker of something deeper, something buried beneath the years. The abandoned part of you, the child who once lived by a different code, listens and agrees. And so, you take them up on their offer.
CHAPTER III: See these tears, so blue? An ageless heart that can never mend...
The irony, sharp as a blade, cuts deep—being labeled Forgotten, only to forget your own people, your own values. You came to this city and it changed you, morphed you into exactly what they warned you about. Selfish. Hungry for something to fill the void inside, basking in fleeting pleasures that offer no peace. Sometimes, you look up at the artificial skies, glowing a false blue, and you remember the young woman you once were—sneaking out from the underground, just to catch a glimpse of the real sky, the imperfect one that stretched endlessly above. Togetherness. You think of that word often. Of how your people used to protect one another, sharing everything from food to warmth. But here? It feels distant, buried beneath layers of who you've become. Ryn Noir. It was supposed to be a stage name, just a mask to wear in this glittering chaos, but now it’s become your identity. The you who carries your true name—sacred and unspoken—feels like a shadow, lost to time. On stage, they see the allure, the enigma, the survivor. You are no longer the woman who once danced barefoot in the dirt, who prayed for the sky to hold out its mercy. Now, you're just another ghost of Neo California, someone who hides her heart behind a veil of mystery, because that’s what this place does—it pulls you into the grey, until you forget the colors that once defined you. As you stand behind the bar, listening to others spill their confessions, you realize everyone here battles their own demons. Each of them, like you, walks the fine line between right and wrong, good and evil. You wonder, in those moments of quiet reflection, if any of them remember where they came from. You think of your mother, of the faces that raised you, their love and teachings fading with time, and you can't help but think—perhaps the title Forgotten was always meant to be. Perhaps it was never just a cruel label, but a prophecy.
