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Rio Kiyoko

i'm a runaway dog, and i'm kicking up dust (history wip)

0 · 171 views · located in San Francisco

a character in “vicious”, as played by rubytuesday

Description

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no fun / jojiXnightmares / easy lifeXready to let go / cage the elephantXget some / ghosted ft. kamille
sincerity is scary / the 1975Xi don't feel a thing (girls club) / pity partyXdrugs and the internet / lauv
i wanna get better / bleachersXtell em all to go to hell / ezra fuhrman

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Image ImageImageNxAxMxE→ Rio Kiyoko

NxIxCxKxNxAxMxExS → Shortie in reference to her short stature occasionally dislikes

AxGxE → twenty three

BxIxRxTxHxDxDxAxTxE → November 22nd

SxExXxUxAxLxIxTxYx→ pansexual , panromantic

NxAxTxIxOxNxAxLxIxTxY → japanese-american

ExTxHxNxIxCxIxTxY → japanese

HxExX → #837696

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Rio's abilities are pretty straightforward- she can't die. Or rather, she can, but she always seems to come back again. Her body regenerates, even when her heart has stopped, healing itself over however long a period of time is necessary for the degree of 'fixing' to take place. A papercut, for example, heals in mere seconds, and her body's determination to heal itself has made giving blood something of an impossibility- her skin and vein begin to heal around the needle, making it a nightmare to get in and out. On the other hand, a broken neck would take perhaps twenty minutes at least, and a beheading -though she has, thankfully, yet to experience it- would take likely a couple of days at least to right itself. Heads take time to grow back, after all.

Rio has yet to find many physical limitations to her healing, although testing out such a thing is far from an enjoyable experience, thus not something she heavily engages in. She still feels pain, after all, and cutting off limbs to watch them grow back isn't exactly pain-free. She doesn't have any clue how long it would take for her to return to herself were she completely obliterated, if she even did, although she imagines it would take a very long time. Certainly not an amount of time she wants to spend in the form of slowly recuperating ashes.

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Rio is a ticking time bomb, if time was unpredictable and bombs exploded in recklessness rather than fire. She acts on impulse, and her emotions burn hot and intense beneath a convincing veneer of insouciance. Perhaps it’s her life of luxury and privilege that has left her so unconcerned with facing the consequences of her actions- or, more likely, perhaps it’s her life-and-death experience, which left her seemingly absent of inhibition.

irrevocably clever, Rio’s cushy lifestyle failed to implement the naïveté typically expected of girls who grow up in wealthy households. Far from it, she is extremely street smart, somewhat cynical in her perception of the world. Her jadedness has stopped her from trusting people easily, and also prompted her to put up exponentially high walls. She acts as though she wears her heart on her sleeve, but the moment things get too deep, and her skin gets too soft, she hardens, reminding herself that her heart is armoured for a reason. She dodges intimate questions, and yet often seems like an open book. She's a trickster, in a word, adept at appearing the opposite of her reality.

lackadaisical to the point of infuriation, Rio can sometimes seem as though there is nothing she cares about. She's so nonchalant, so heedless of any apparent problems she may face, that one could argue that she is barely living, only existing. And she'd probably struggle to deny it. There is a sense of justice within her, but she seldom expresses it openly. She's much more comfortable laughing away her worries, with any dash of heroism enacted behind the scenes. She doesn't like responsibilities, let alone ones as daunting as protecting others, or as making the world a "better place." It's just too much, especially when coupled up with the occasional doses of self-loathing that she experiences, and the survivor's guilt that she is stricken by almost every day of her life. She doesn't always hate her abilities- they certainly have their uses, but at the same time, when she loathes them, it is with burning scorn. After all, doesn't it feel like a cruel joke? The girl who survived, wracked with the guilt of being the only survivor, only to find that she will always be just that- the survivor, not matter what violence comes her way.

not that anyone would ever know. How could they? Her relaxed but jaded demeanour shows none of the internal angst- it's far to busy spewing one liners and living frivolously.
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Rio was born into a potentially rough life, only to be plucked by chance and placed into one of privilege. Born to a sixteen-year-old girl in Tokyo, Japan, Rio was set for the foster system. Instead, she was adopted into a very comfortable life- the sole daughter of the extremely wealthy American couple, Jay and Hannah Kiyoko, With them, she grew up with little to ask for. Her parents were kind and loving, and she was certainly ever left wanting as far as material goods went. If anything, she was a touch spoiled, and grew used to getting what she want, when she wanted it. She lived wildly, although never to the point that gave either of her parents major cause for concern, although perhaps it should have. Either way, though, she never put herself into any major danger, and any trouble she did wind up in, she always seemed perfectly capable of getting herself out of again.

it wasn't until she witnessed death for the first time that everything changed.

the burglary had been a planned thing, but, like plans are wont to do, it went terribly wrong. Rio had had an argument with her parents the night before- something about her partying ways causing her grades to slip, or something like that. Regardless of the reason, her parents had both opted to stay home that day, and to spend time together as a family. It had been a long time since such an occasion had been shared between the three- it would have been nice, if only three men didn't appear in the kitchen, armed with guns.

the rest Rio remembers in flashes- although the moments she does remember sticks in her mind, vivid as photographs. One gun was fired, two shots, and then two from another. Two hit her father, one her mother, and the final shot hit Rio herself. As she lay dying, she remembers the burglars panicking among themselves, arguing over who shot, and why, and what to do next. All three men were caught and sent to prison, but that didn't bring her parents back.

Rio woke up a miracle- people could not believe she had pulled through after flatlining. They were overjoyed, but as the realisation hit Rio that she was all alone, her relief turned to horror and guilt. She internalised her pain, and blamed herself for her parents' death- the depression she sank into led her to horrifically dark places, places that led her to discover that she could not die, no matter how she may try.

Her body refused harm or injury, and this almost amplified the injustice she felt had been delivered to her. It was a cruel and sadistic joke. And yet, she eventually learned to live with it. She went back to her free-wheeling ways, finding temporary comfort in pretending that her pain was nonexistent, and that her gift was something to be carelessly taken advantage of through bouts of recklessness, rather than a reminder of her own status as a survivor, and the guilt she carries along with that moniker.


it is ironic that, in the moments she most wanted to die, her gift insured that she was unable to. Wracked with survivor's guilt and self-loathing, any and all attempts left her, at most

So begins...

Rio Kiyoko's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Niki Harrell Character Portrait: Mat Rose Character Portrait: Rio Kiyoko Character Portrait: Joji Kujo Character Portrait: Manon Castellanos Character Portrait: Sabrina Callaghan Character Portrait: Elliot Callaghan

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NIKOLAI HARRELL
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outfit xxxxxxx hex; #5f0e0e
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xxxcoloured crimson in my eyes
xxxone or two could free my mind
xxxthis how it ends
xxxi feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream

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And to think being called extraordinary once used to be a compliment. It still was, of course. Parents would beam if they were told their child was extraordinary. But the smile would soon slip if they were told their child was an Extraordinary.

Or at least, that was how Nikolai Harrell felt at that exact moment in time. As he walked through the city, the constant noise made his clenched jaw tighten even more. He'd had the beginnings of a headache leaving base and it was steadily worsening. His squad had noticed the odd shift in his mood since he'd returned, but they put it down to difficult memories, grief and confusion. None of those things were helping, of course. But he'd still gone back. His father had wanted him to do whatever made him happy, but being a flight engineer was all that he knew. And strangely, he'd missed it. His life had gone so goddamn strange that he missed the routine.

And yet, here he was. Walking into something even stranger. He wasn't convinced a bunch of extraordinaries sitting in a room was a good idea. It would certainly make them easier to target. But with this killer headache, the constant thoughts of doeshelovemedoesshehatemetwolattesgodihopetheytipwhoevendrinksthisshit whirling in his head, he wondered if that would be a bad thing. They'd agreed to meet in public. Meeting strangers in someone's apartment would just be weird.

He found the address with relative ease. It was a coffee shop, one that was blissfully quiet. But even still, Niki fished two painkillers out of his bag and swallowed them with a mouthful of water from his water bottle. He hung outside until the voices went a little quieter, until he knew he’d be able to tolerate it. As he stepped inside, he scrolled back through his phone to find the messages. They’d all sent something identifying about themselves. Niki had simply said he’d be dressed in military gear. One person, “hopepunkrose” had said they had long blue hair, and he could see a woman sitting in the corner matching that description. He took his time ordering his coffee, focusing in on her thoughts. he's wearing military gear. i wonder if it's him. nobody else is here oh god i hope other people show up what if he's a creep what if he's the killer-

He let his focus slip and smirked to himself. Yep, it was her. He took his coffee and made his way over to the table, practically throwing himself into the nearest seat. The woman raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry, I'm not the killer. I'm Maverick," he said. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't half expecting a young Tom Cruise. I'm hopepunkrose. Or, you know, Mat. My user's a bit of a mouthful," She retorted, relief written all over her face and colouring her thoughts. He smirked, taking a long sip of his coffee. He'd kept a stash of his antipsychotics and honestly, sitting here, still able to hear the whirling thoughts of this woman, he wished he'd taken one. This was going to feel surreal, no matter what. If only he could have peace as well.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Niki Harrell Character Portrait: Mat Rose Character Portrait: Rio Kiyoko Character Portrait: Joji Kujo Character Portrait: Manon Castellanos Character Portrait: Sabrina Callaghan Character Portrait: Elliot Callaghan

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Joji leaned back in his chair, eying the shadows moving behind the art director's office.

Must be nice.

He hated open offices and shared tables even moreso. There was no room for personal knick-knacks and the half-wall barriers dividing the left and right sides of the table were laughable. It was easy to tell who was surfing Amazon and who was playing Diablo III, the office worker's game of choice. He couldn't deny that he'd been guilty of shirking his duties in the past but, well there was no "but." The Japanese man still needed to pore through the feedback his team received from the beta testers of their last update.

"Trying too hard to be like Apple" seemed to be the prevailing sentiment, although everyone was happy to finally have night mode (God knows how long Joji had been fighting for that feature to be implemented). Everything trickled down from market research to analytics to the art director to them and finally, to the coders. Those poor, poor coders. There was an art to predicting what users wanted and more importantly, delivering what they didn't know they wanted. He found too often that there could be all outcry in the world against a certain change, only for it to be well-received. The opposite, incidentally, rarely happened.

A ping from his desktop brought his attention back to his screen where his work chat was buzzing.


xxxChris V: yo
xxxanyone down for boba tonight? @everyone
xxxAlex H: I can't. I have class in the morning.
xxxJun H: Depends. Can I get a ride back to BART?
xxxChris V: i gotchu bro
xxxDenise N: I'll go if Andy goes
xxxAndy L: Boi I'm broke


Joji pursed his lips for a moment. He had planned on cleaning his fridge tonight but...

xxxJoji K: Only if we can get Boba Guys.
xxxChris V: oh heck yea dude


He turned to his other screen, tabbing into his spreadsheet with a renewed vigor. There were still quite a few responses to go through and the chances of his team leaving work on time were slim, but for the sake of milk tea he would push through. He tabbed through his windows for a few moments, squinting at the preview of r/totallynormal.

Wait.

Fuck.


xxxJoji K: Hey sorry guys. Just realized I've got something after work.
xxxChris V: aw come on
xxxChris V: we haven't gone in forever
xxxAlex H: We had Boba Guys two days ago.
xxxChris V: but they're sooo good!
xxxJoji K: Okay fine, we can get drinks but I have to leave right after.
xxxChris V: yeet


He spent the rest of the day in relative silence, not daring to take a break in case he ended up requiring overtime. Luckily for him, the art director decided to take off early and leave them to their own devices. The milk tea came shortly after (an egregious line) as did Joji's journey to the latest artisanal coffee shop. Hopefully he wasn't too late.

He pulled up his phone and spotted two members of the meet-up, a man in a military outfit and a woman with blue hair. The blue hair was par for the course in SF but the military gear not so much. In retrospect he'd been pretty vague in his descriptor: Asian in a blue button up and jeans. That honestly could describe half of his company alone.

"I'm guessing we're all here for the same thing?" Joji asked, appraoching the table with a lazy wave of his hand.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Niki Harrell Character Portrait: Mat Rose Character Portrait: Rio Kiyoko Character Portrait: Joji Kujo Character Portrait: Manon Castellanos Character Portrait: Sabrina Callaghan Character Portrait: Elliot Callaghan

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━━━━━━━━━━━━ RIO KIYOKO
attireXXsongXX#837696XXXXXXXXX

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━━━━━━ MANON CASTELLANOS
attireXsongX#85abb6XXXXlXXXXXXXXX

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Click. The orange flame of the zippo lighter set Rio's face aglow. The touch of heat that radiated from it was a pleasant sensation in the blistering cold- a cold that Rio had, as per usual, hardly prepared for. She seldom changed her attire based on the reasons, preferring to brave the elements than abandon her 'brand'. Click. The heat and the flame vanished. Click. They appeared again.

She wasn't used to waiting- usually she was the late one. And yet here she was, clicking her lighter open and closed, not in impatience, but just in her typically fiddly manner. She didn't like being left alone with her thoughts- she didn't something to distract her. Her father's old lighter worked perfectly, as did the cigarettes they lit when she decided that she didn't mind the smell after all. As she was wont to every couple weeks. What could she say? She's a fickle thing.

Finally, just as she was reaching for the packet in her pocket, Manon appeared, walking towards her, head bowed and mouth already forming words of apology.

"Sorry, I was-" "Deciding whether or not to come?" Manon's mouth closed, and she met Rio's amused gaze with a cool one. "... Yeah." Rio smirked, tucking the lighter back into her pocket before swinging her arm around the girl's shoulders. "And now? Still feeling indecisive?" Manon shook off the older woman's arm. "I'm here, aren't I?" Rio sent her another teasing smile, and Manon, in her traditionally short-tempered fashion, stormed on ahead, leaving Rio to catch up.

Manon had spent the morning in an internal debate. To go or not to go. She felt hesitant, although she wasn't sure exactly what it was that had her so fearful. Was it the danger of the killer? The danger of other extraordinaries? Or, more likely, was it that fear of rejection that had her so on edge? She knew the latter was the most likely culprit, and it plagued her to no end on the days leading up to the portentous meeting.

At least Rio was going. Rio the reckless. Rio the fearless. Of course she was going. What did she have to fear? But then again, Manon wondered what exactly Rio's reasons for attending were. Rio was hardly the sort to get caught up in the dramas of other people, if you could call the serial murders of extraordinaries, 'drama'. And she was even less the sort to care so much as to join some sort of ragtag justice team. As they walked to the address, Manon briefly considered looking deeper into Rio's emotions. Just as quickly, however, she abandoned the thought. Boredom, she presumed, was Rio's most likely motivation. The woman loathed being bored.

Finally arriving at the address, a unassuming little cafe, Rio turned to her companion. "Not too late to turn back, Nonny." Manon paused at her words, but shook away her reservations, stepping forward to lead the way through the door.

Immediately, Manon tasted tea. Sweet, as though the cafe's most regular occupants preferred several spoons of sugar. Rio whispered in her ear, "Let me know if it's tasty." Sliding her hands into her pockets, Rio barely had to look about the shop before noticing the man in the army uniform, and the girl with blue hair. They were hard to miss, the uniform in particular being hard to ignore, and even harder not to scoff at.

One a picture of confidence, and the other wishing she was but with less success, the (cute) blonde Asian in a leather jacket and the girl in a tan hoodie and black jeans walked over to the group of three. Rio slid into a free chair, already comfortable, whilst Manon chose to wait, standing by her side. "Huh. You're all a lot better looking than I expected. Kudos."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Niki Harrell Character Portrait: Mat Rose Character Portrait: Rio Kiyoko Character Portrait: Joji Kujo Character Portrait: Manon Castellanos Character Portrait: Sabrina Callaghan Character Portrait: Elliot Callaghan

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MAT ROSE
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outfit xxxxxxx hex; #cc89ad
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xxxxxxi'm not bitter
xxxxxxi'm just tired
xxxxxxno use getting angry
xxxxxxat the way you're wired

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Mat had almost forgotten about the meeting. Work had been busy, and then she'd had to get groceries, and then she'd had to help her neighbour with the vacuuming. She'd just sat down with a glass of rosé when she'd glanced at her phone and had realised she was supposed to be elsewhere. But it didn't take her quite as long as she'd expected to get in there, and she found herself there early. She got herself a skinny white chocolate mocha and sat down to wait, scrolling back through their chat. They'd all been vague about their abilities for the most part, alluding to what is was they could do. So when a guy in what looked like a military uniform showed up and knew who she was almost immediately, as well as what she was thinking, she wasn't alarmed.

Well. Not overly alarmed. Maybe just a little. He sat down, looking around the coffee shop with something between curiosity and exhaustion. Maverick had more or less disclosed that he had telepathy, because conversations with him would be "interesting", as he'd said himself.

An Asian guy matching the description of one of the group arrived, with a lazy wave and a grin. "Yep. Fucked up EO support club," Maverick said, before taking a mouthful of his own coffee. Before Mat even got a chance to suggest they all introduce themselves, two more arrived. A tall, intimidating looking girl and a really cute blonde Asian girl. When the Asian girl mentioned they were better looking than she expected, Mat was pretty damn sure that she blushed a little. But she caught herself, reminded herself why they were here, and cleared her throat.

"Uh, I think we might still be waiting on a few people, but why don't we introduce ourselves?" She suggested. Maverick raised his eyebrows. "What, are we going to play some dumb game with a ball to make sure we learn each other's names?" He asked, and Mat shot him the most venomous glare she could muster. He raised his hands. "Fine, whatever. I'm Nikolai, but you'll probably all butcher that pronunciation so just call me Niki. You all know me as Maverick, so be warned, I can hear what you're all thinking." He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if that was good enough. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm Matilda, but please just call me Mat, you all know me as hopepunk, and I'm a mimic."


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Niki Harrell Character Portrait: Mat Rose Character Portrait: Rio Kiyoko Character Portrait: Joji Kujo Character Portrait: Manon Castellanos Character Portrait: Sabrina Callaghan Character Portrait: Elliot Callaghan

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sabrina callaghan & elliot callaghan
#F0B0CA & #8EBC99

“Damnit, we are 100% late” Sabrina mumbled as she hastily wheeled her brother down the busy streets her phone navigation to the coffee shop muffled as it was stuffed in her pocket. “This is nothing like Burbank”. Elliot snorted slightly from his seat, “I really don’t know what you expected Brina. Also- could you slow down a little? Jesus, you’re going to mow someone down if you’re not careful”. She huffed slightly, slowing her pace sticking to the sidewalk closest to the buildings to avoid any ‘accidental’ run over toes. “Do you think this is a good idea?” She spoke quietly leaning down to Elliot’s ear, afraid of who or what might hear. “No” He responded curtly keeping his eyes trained on the pavement in front of them, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean we shouldn’t. Haven’t you wondered? Ever? If there were others like us, and know that we’ve found them you can’t tell me that you’re not the least bit curious as to what they have to say?” He was right, like always. “Okay, but any sign of trouble and I’m wheeling us back to Burbank”.

Elliot was a little nervous, which was a funny feeling as he hadn’t felt like that in a while. It had been a while since he had met new people let alone left his own house. A large part of the reason in him and his sister’s attendance was due to the fact that he couldn’t stand be trapped inside for any longer. Even though the trip had been less than ideal, and the busy city made his stomach churn he couldn’t help but feel free again. He hadn’t given any indication of his, predicament, on the chat so he was curious to see how the others would react.

Sabrina finally managed to locate the shop, thankfully, the street it was located on was much more quiet. She turned Elliot’s chair pushing open the door with her back and walked inside the shop. It was mostly vacant aside for the occasional avid coffee drinker and college student. Which is why they stood out like a sore thumb in the back of the shop. It was an odd assortment of people, they definitely didn’t seem to fit. Unfortunately, they all seemed to be engaged in conversation. Perfect, definitely late. She slowly wheeled Elliot over to the table pausing in front of it, not wanting to interrupt any of the others. Sabrina caught the tail end of the man in the army uniform and blue haired girl’s words. “You all know me as Maverick, so be warned, I can hear what you're all thinking." She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, hear thoughts? She suddenly felt a little more conscious of her mind. "I'm Matilda, but please just call me Mat, you all know me as hopepunk, and I'm a mimic.” Sabrina gripped the handles of Elliot’s chair, her pristine confidence faltering as she felt a little out of place. Elliot must’ve noticed because he spoke for her.

“Hello, I apologize for our tardiness but the transportation system is not as - friendly as we expected” In fact it was a complete nightmare. “I’m Animo, Elliot and my sister, Paladin, is Sabrina”.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Niki Harrell Character Portrait: Mat Rose Character Portrait: Rio Kiyoko Character Portrait: Joji Kujo Character Portrait: Manon Castellanos Character Portrait: Sabrina Callaghan Character Portrait: Elliot Callaghan

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As everyone introduced themselves, Joji's glanced at his cup of boba mixed with ice and watered down milk tea. Perhaps he should have brought enough for everyone. It was certainly better than drinking over roasted coffee. Upon looking at everyone else however, he quickly recanted the thought. He was already that guy, the one who brought an outside drink despite the sign at the door asking him not to.

He stood to toss his empty drink into the trash before sitting back down and nodded along to people's names. Everyone's attitudes were somewhere between reluctant and begrudging save for Mat who had attempted to foster some camaraderie among all of them.

Mat hopepunk, dyed hair.

Nikolai Maverick, no tag needed.

Blonde jp girl.

Sabrina Paladin, blonde but also white.

Elliot Amino, the uh...brother of Sabrina.

He squinted at Manon. The lady from EO.

"Joji, online tag also Jóji but with an accent," he announced with a sheepish grin, "my ability's a bit uh, hard to explain but I wouldn't worry about it."

He’d been purposefully vague about his power, mainly because he didn’t know how to do so without it sounding silly. Maverick already revealed himself as a telepath but Mat's mimicry interested him more. Could she only copy people's actions or did that extend to powers too? He had a theory regarding Stands but nobody else to test them on, well really nobody else he could confide in.

Joji didn't expect to meet them all too often, even if the whole reason they met was to band together. These groups often dissolved after a few meetups and he highly doubted that they could keep gathering in San Francisco unless everyone magically lived in the Bay (and he wouldn't wish that upon anyone). At best they would be a merry band of extraordinaires that put off monthly meetings and at worst, one of them was the killer. The idea gnawed at him and at first, barred him from responding to the invite but the slim chance this could lead to finding Seychelle again was too good to pass up.

You said it yourself. You're special too.

cron