#rustbonerp

Hey everyone, we wanted to share our Rust & Bone playlist with you guys to get you in the mood for the site opening (and reserves, of course). 

RUST & BONE MOODBOARD: WINSTON WHITFIELD MAJOR GENERAL FOR HIS ROYAL BRITISH ARMY, LEADER OF THE WHISKEY CLUB (Terrakinesis, Class A)

a i s l i n n   d e r m o t t  twenty-two, telekinesis

RUST & BONE MOODBOARD: ARIEL IHIMAERA ANAYLST FOR THE TASK FORCE ON POLICING & COUNTERTERRORISM (Mediumship, Class B)

It was never equal in London. Not really — no matter what they tell you now. The system, they said, benefitted everyone. The rarer your ability classification, the more you should be given. In the end, you had more to offer. They said it was only fair.

It was almost intuitive, codified into law after all these years. With a Class A ability you could go anywhere. With a Class D … well, they said there were simply too many of you. It was impossible to be special. At least, they told us so, again and again. They didn’t expect it when we decided to fight back.

Maybe we waited too long. All the anger, all the resentment … it would make sense, after all these years of nothing, after all these years of being less. The marches on Westminster, the arrests, the street violence — it was a natural progression, I suppose, but it spiraled out of control so quickly. Not all of us meant to go so far.

The first bomb was the worst. It was New Years Eve, 2015, and I wasn’t there, but I sometimes picture what it looked like anyway. 683 were injured in central London. 93 were killed. When it was plastered across the newspapers the next day, it was clear that with two Class D bombers things would be different after that.

If only we knew how quickly the darkness could begin.

In Parliament, they called themselves the Sentinels. It was a new party, born from the street violence and years of voter suppression, and they said Class C and D abilities were dangerous — that those with them were unruly, something to be protected from. They said they could save the country, and, after the second round of bombings, people seemed to believe them. Then again, London and Manchester were burning. I wonder what choice people thought they had.

They held the emergency election in July, two weeks after Parliament was dissolved. The voter turn-out was a lie — it had to be. There was suppression across the major cities, I’m sure, no matter what they proclaimed. Either way, they control Parliament now, and it is definitely not the same. The Prime Minister’s defense forces control the streets in our big cities, and once, when some of us gathered to decide what to do, we heard that a new Directorate for State Security might be listening to the things that we say.

No, it was never equal in London or anywhere else, but it is spiraling, spiraling down. To keep us safe, they say, the Sentinels will watch like guardians, but if no one else sees it, we know, at least, that this is not what they stand for. It has to end somewhere.

UNITED KINGDOM, MARCH 2018 - If you weren’t there, you don’t know. Casualties are a number, abstract as anything, but on that night, London was burning. We remember how it was. We remember what it meant for the country. We think of it now when we vow to keep you safe.  Whatever we do now we do for the greater good. Violence is in their blood, just as benevolence is in ours. It is time that all of us — Class A to D — begun to relearn our place. To the lowest among us, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. Worry not, citizens. The Sentinel Watch has begun.  FULL PLOT COMING SOON