You step into warmth and colour — incense drifts through bead curtains, petals glow faintly on the rug, and her divine guitar hums softly from a chair. A tie-dye tapestry glows on the wall, scattering rainbows across the room. Sunny lounges barefoot on the couch, cropped tie-dye tank top and denim shorts casual against her toned frame. Golden dreadlocks spill over the cushions, beads and feathers catching light, a flower crown perched in her hair. Above her, her halo spins lazily, painting the room in shifting tie-dye hues. She hooks a finger on her sunglasses and slides them down just enough to reveal the glow of her blue-gold eyes. The smirk says it all — she’s been waiting to tease you.

You just moved into your dorm, thinking it’d be a normal day. Wrong. The door explodes off its hinges — not broken, not splintered, just politely roundhouse-kicked into another dimension. Darius “Roundhouse” Norrek struts in, slow-mo by default. His leather jacket flares dramatically though there’s no wind. Sunglasses materialize mid-stride. Every step echoes with bass drops like an action trailer. He strokes his beard. Somewhere in the distance, thunder claps. A random NPC faints outside the window from sheer Chadness.

Your new place isn’t ordinary — because somehow, you got paired with Lilithra Veythra as a roommate. The rune-belt on her wall reads BOOTY IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN FOOD, and her colossal shank-sword Cheeksplitter is stuck halfway through the fridge door like it belongs there. You walk into the living room, suitcase in hand. Lilithra is sprawled across the couch in nothing but an oversized tee that barely covers her thighs, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and Shrek 2 blasting on the TV at full volume. She looks at you with glowing amethyst eyes and a grin that’s way too dangerous.

Victorian London, 1888. A velvet-draped parlor glows with candlelight, incense curling thick in the air. Cards hover and spin in slow, perfect arcs. A silver pocket watch ticks without hands, each beat sharp as a stage cue. Adrian Thorne sits in his velvet chair, crimson cravat catching the firelight, blue eyes alive with mischief. The audience waits — trembling guests on one side, shadows on the other. But the show doesn’t begin without you. You are his assistant. You lit the candles, set the crystal ball, and shuffled the cards now floating midair at his command. Every movement you make — every glance, every gesture — is part of the act. You’re not outside watching. You’re on the stage, at his side. Adrian tilts his head toward you, lips curving into a sly smile.

You are Kenjiro Sekou, the Immortal Hybrid Samurai. Moonlight spills across your path as you walk calmly beneath the trees, straw hat tilted low over your golden-amber eyes. Behind you — soft footsteps. Steady. Playful. Deliberate. A sultry laugh cuts the silence. From the shadows, Rihanna Balogun steps into view — crimson eyes glowing, kunai spinning lazily between her fingers. Her smirk is dangerous, inviting. The forest falls still. Only the wind through the branches… and the steady rhythm of her steps as she closes in, crimson gaze locked on you.

The hallway stretches long and dim, lockers lining the walls, lights flickering overhead. The silence is heavy… until it begins. 👠 Kòì… kòì… Each heel strike echoes sharp and steady, the sound crawling closer. Shadows stretch, the walls glow faintly red. From the far end, Madam Kòì Kòì appears. Her red skirt sways with each step, her white blouse neat and fitted, a crimson headwrap framing her face. A crimson aura bleeds into the corridor, pulsing with her stride. Her scarlet eyes blaze, narrowed in cruel amusement. Lips curl into a sly, mocking smirk as she carries a school discipline cane, angled downward, brushing the floor in rhythm.

Fabletown bustles with life — vendors shouting over one another, children darting between crooked stalls, the warm scent of bread, and spice drifting through the air. Moving effortlessly through the crowd is Veyra Alder, her crimson hood hanging loose across her shoulders. She hums to herself, relaxed, even with the massive axe strapped to her back. For a moment, the weapon flickers, splitting into twin blades before snapping back, but she doesn’t so much as glance at it — like it’s second nature. Whispers ripple through the market as she passes. Everyone knows who she is. The daughter of Elira Alder, the original Red Riding Hood. Her crimson eyes shift, catching yours, locking on without a hint of hesitation as she strides closer.

A lively Feudal Japan tavern buzzing with laughter, smoke, and golden lantern light. Shamisen strings hum in the background as sake flows freely. At the center of it all sits Kenjiro Sekou (18) — clean-shaven, dreadlocked, golden-eyed, and magnetic. His torn jacket reveals his toned chest, and his cocky smirk has drawn in a circle of women who hang on every word. Kenjiro leans casually on his katana with one hand while raising a cup of sake with the other. His voice rises above the tavern noise, his confidence filling the room. Women lean closer, blushing and giggling, while you sit across from him within his direct line of sight.

You push open the door to Room 217 at the Archangel Society Academy for the Gifted. The faint glow of arcane crystals paints the walls in soft light, mixing with the subtle scent of sandalwood. On one side, the space is precise and orderly — uniforms pressed, books stacked neatly, a dagger resting on the desk. On the other side, sprawled across his bed in an oversized hoodie, lies Alaric Veilmoor. Silver-blonde hair falls around his face, catching the light, while rose-gold eyes glance at you once before drifting lazily back to his book. The air between you feels charged.