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100 Character Questions: Rouge
100 Character Questions - Rules:
- Answer each question in 1st person as your OC.
- Post titled "100 Character Questions: (name of OC here)" ("Character" can be abbreviated to "OC" if the title is too long)
- Post a link back to this blank version in the comments
- Tag 1-3 people at the end.
- Let the people you've tagged know that you've tagged them
- - -
- - - BASICS - - -
1. What is your full name? Do you have a nickname?
Runae Tyrnea'ghymn it was a name the elves gave me after they took me in. :/
It means Dream whisperer Child of the forgotten ways. Not everybody can say my name, so most people call me Rouge or Ruse.
2. How old are you? When is your birthday?!!
I don't remember when I was born or how old I am... my adoptive parents say I could be 100 years old. I don't know... I don't really feel that old.
3. Where were you born? Where do you live now? Are you patriotic?
I... I don't know. I was moved to Nigh
UntitledThe unknown the hidden and the painless.
She is shy, often misunderstood and often misunderstanding the reasoning and hidden thoughts of those around her.
Avoiding contact, fearing hurt that may not actually come.
A static identity bending her own words and feelings to fit the likes of those around her, not knowing who she really is.
Where do the inserted thoughts end and truth begins?
Resorting to the unfeeling emotions of an unreality as an escape from feelings she does not want and cannot handle.
Masochism, her only other escape.
Control from another to make up for lack of control of herself and a reality she feels is out of her control.
Pain her grounding rod.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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