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Cobalt Blue

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We were given one face yet you would give yourself another. You would hide your true nature while you plot their destruction. You never act, only watch, like lives are a game. Now you're all alone in the world with your weapon and pain.


Canary Eloise

Canary was not having a good day.

In fact, Canary Eloise did not think that it would be even a tiny bit melodramatic to say that she was having the worst day ever in existence.

It had started off so innocuously though, she thought mournfully as she walked through the streets of Vale. It was nearing midnight and the sky had long gone dark. The streets were illuminated by rows of pale white streetlights that made it easy enough to see where she was going, which would have been fantastic if she also wasn't completely lost. Canary wasn't sure, but she felt like she'd passed that trashcan twice already.

With a sigh, she thought back to that morning. Sure her Father had seemed oddly distracted that morning and a little less affectionate than usual, but she'd chalked that up to the board meeting he was supposed to have later that day. Apparently General Ironwood had been breathing down his neck about something, something big but her Father never talked to her about his work so he had never told her exactly what he was working on.

And yeah the guards in strange uniform watching their building as she'd left for Combat School had been atypical, but Charlotte figured they were new or something. Her Father recycled guards so often that Canary had long since stopped thinking about it. There were always new people standing sentry outside; as long as whoever they were using was wearing their badge, Canary didn't care to look too closely.

Gods she had been so blind.

The raid had been swift, methodical. Whoever had organised it must have been casing them for weeks, maybe even months. How else would they have known about her Father's work with Dust? They had taken everything; his papers, blueprints, everything was just...gone. In the morning had skipped off to school with a kiss to the forehead and she had returned to the wreckage of a burned out home with her Father gone and his lab completely ransacked. Now here she was, strolling through the Kingdom of Vale in the middle of the night with the hard soles of her heels clicking on the asphalt and her short yellow dress acting like some sort of reflective beacon (ha, beacon) in the dimness. Luckily she had enough money to get by for a while. The safe hadn't been touched – whoever had done this had only targeted the crates and canisters of Dust – and it was fireproof.

Canary tugged morosely on a strand of her butter-blonde hair and then patted it back into place with a grimace. She usually kept it tied up in two high pigtails but her rubber-bands had snapped earlier and now she had to deal with that too upon everything else. The worst day ever.

She walked past an alleyway where some people were leaning against the walls and watching the streets like shadowy vultures. Canary ignored them, there were loiterers and street rats everywhere and it was best to just not make eye contact with them. After that it was a gamble as to whether they would ignore you as well or try to harass you.

Apparently it was not her lucky day. Of course, she rolled her eyes. Someone whistled lowly as she passed them and another called out to her. "Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing out so late?"

Canary kept walking. Like pests they followed, growing less genial with every second that she refused to give them a time of day. "Hey, lady, we asked you a question. What, you think you're too good for us?"

"Look at her bracelet. I bet that's a real gemstone! She's probably some fancy-ass rich girl who got lost on the wrong side of town," one of them leered. Well they weren't too far off the mark there. Canary reflexively glanced down at the gold chain around her wrist. It actually was a real gemstone. Her Father had found the large onyx while mining for Dust outside the kingdom. According to him he'd accidentally disturbed a group of boarbatusks that had been resting in the area. Logically he should have dropped everything and run but, according to him, he just had to get something for his little girl.

Canary had been seven at the time and she'd thought he was the coolest dad in existence. She still did.

The girl slowed to a stop and exhaled loudly as she heard the men stop a few feet behind her. "Can we not do this?" She asked over her shoulder. "I've had a really, really, sub-par day and I don't think smacking you three around would make me feel better." Maybe if there were more she could really take her (anger? sadness? confusion?) emotions out on them but three was such a small number and they didn't even look professionally trained...

The men swore and growled at her. "Who the hell do you think you are?" The one in front, a man with more muscles than sense, stalked towards her and tried to grab her by the shoulder. Canary caught his wrist before he could even make contact with her skin and used her free hand to pull the black goggles on her forehead over her eyes. She tilted her head to grin sweetly at the man over her shoulder.

"Boop!" She chirped. Immediately flash of blinding light burst before his eyes. The poor schmuck staggered back with a yell, howling in pain and furiously trying to rub the afterimages and shadows from his vision. He screamed blindly at his men. "Get her, get her!"

"Get this!" Canary's double-ended scythe materialized in her hands, both blades gleaming brightly in the light still emanating from the flash. She swung low and tripped one of the men, then twisted up to flip herself out of the way of a hail of incoming bullets. She weaved through them, spinning in place and then bringing the larger scythe head down on the spot where one of the men had been earlier. The ground shattered beneath the force of her attack and he looked a bit spooked. Canary smirked and flipped herself up and onto his shoulders where she knocked him out with a sharp blow to the neck. She landed in a low crouch, her scythe breaking apart seamlessly into a long chain sickle and she flung one end at the man shooting at her. It wrapped around his chest and she yanked forward so she could punch him in the gut. He went down immediately and didn't get up again.

A roar came from behind her and Canary ducked to avoid the staff that had nearly taken off her head. She back-flipped out of the way several times before skidding low to the ground, her reinforced gloves dragging along the asphalt and leaving a trail of flash bangs while she laughed maniacally at the panicked look on his as the the violently bright light took out his eyes. Canary rushed at the blinded man and, at the very last moment, stopped right in front of him.

For a few seconds she watched him stumble around sightlessly, his arms pinwheeling around as he struggled to keep himself upright, and then Canary burst out laughing. "Hey, look at that, I was wrong! I actually do feel better!" With that she stomped on his knee, hearing it pop out of it's socket and the resulting scream of pain, and then she roundhouse kicked him in the stomach so hard he flew backwards and smacked against the side of the building.

In the ensuing silence that was only broken only by the sound of concerned voices and the squeal incoming police sirens, Canary began to hum softly as she dusted herself off, stretched, and flicked out her scroll. Canary resumed her search for the notorious Beacon Academy; next time she was taking a right instead of a left, she was tired of seeing all these trashcans.

Canary turned a corner and bumped hard into another woman that had been coming around the same corner. The impact sent her sprawling to the ground where she proceeded to groan dramatically and just lay there. "Oh my god why does everything happen to me?"

"Sorry, are you okay?" A voice asked softly. Canary cracked her eyes open and stared up at the woman and her outstretched hand. Pale red eyes set in a pale face stared back at her with concern. Canary sighed and took the gloved hand, squeaking when the woman pulled her suddenly to her feet.

"Yes, I'm fine," she dusted herself off again and scowled down at herself. This bolero had been expensive. Oh well, at least it was black. "Trust me, this is not the worst thing to happen to me today."

The other girl snorted with a knowing little grin. "Ha, that makes two of us."

"We should start a support group," Canary snickered.

"Would your bad day also include the flashes I saw earlier?" The girl arched a thin silver eyebrow.

"It might," Canary sang. She eyed the other girl up and down, from the top of her long hair to the heels on her feet. She stuck out her hand. "Canary Eloise."

"Blanche." The two shook hands. "Blanche Thorne."

Beacon Academy Dossier: Canary Eloise

Family: Wren Eloise (Father) (deceased?), Unknown (Mother)

Colour: Yellow

Weapon: Double-Bladed Scythe (default), Double-Ended Chain Sickle, Pistols

Semblance: Flash Bang + Explosive Touch

Uniform: yellow A-line dress, a black bolero with her family sigil on the back, black knee socks, dark brown boots, black reinforced gloves

Second individual is yet to be identified. More information to follow.