------cerulean had very little spite for the shadow veil. the home of his mother and much of his family. though, it wasn't the nicest of places according the treasure trove that was cerulean's memories. the veil, ver, his mother, had torn apart birthplace of the blackhearted rogues for this place. yet, if it hadn't have been for them, cer would have never joined the brigade. more than ever the painted brigade had become a home so unlike, perhaps even better than the rogues. cerulean was seen as a vital part of the brigade community, he had worth and was applauded for his commitment to the clan. the rogues had never done anything like that for him, he was forever a kit in their eyes.
he was sure any other clan whom had no regard for his true age would appreciate him just as much as the brigade had. but, he hadn't joined any other clan. out of their allies, the hyperian isles, the ruins, and the cartel, cer might have chosen to live in the cartel if he ever had the choice. the isles were far too pro-clan, the ruins a bit too dry despite their allegiance to the millions, and the cartel was, well, they just had everything and cer could have done whatever he wanted under their jurisdiction. cerulean didn't have a choice in the end. after months of blindly traveling agrelos, too enraptured by his mind's and power's delusions it was under the protection of the brigade that his mind had cleared. by the time he awoke he was already several weeks into his stay, taking that as an omen cer took roots in the colorful town. it was too bad that the brigade and shadow veil weren't allies. the sanctuary, the brigade's one other enemy wasn't anything to be concerned about in the slightest. in fact, cer probably should've aimed this humorous attack towards them instead of his family's homeland. for old time's sake it was, then.
finding his way into the veil's territory had been a breeze. any confrontation was met with a memory-wipe and a simple wave of adieu. where cerulean was to carry out his schemes was a bit harder to find. having never been a part of the veil the whispers of unfamiliar spirits were no help -- many of them simply cursing him out for his mischievous deeds. gladly not too long after entering the territory cerulean found a quaint waterfall with a pond at it's bottom. many colorful fish swum about in the area, something which cerulean would have never have thought to call the mystic falls. telekinetically letting his paints fall to the dark ground cerulean focussed his light manipulation on turning the crystal blue waters into a more foreboding red. in a minute's time the entire pond, including the falls, had become a brilliant vermillion. it was a message of war from the brigade, a message of love towards his worried mother. placing a blue tag, '♡,rue' on a nearby pine the tabby took a moment to appreciate his own work before setting up a little tripwire system in front of the tagged pine, set to send a ricochetting red paint balloon down onto any passerby. with a few last touches cerulean was happy with his work. this was sure to send a message, wether it was mixed or not. giving one final glance at the marred meadow cerulean made his leave, returning once more to the brigade.
painted brigadier turned the mystic falls vermillion red through light manipulation, it'll wear off in a week.
tagged a nearby pine with '♡,rue'
set up a tripwire system in front of the tagged pine, hitting it will cause a red paint balloon to drop.
tags ✶ current body