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CHARCOAL SKIN

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[attr="class","freiwantmid"]CHARACTER FACTION team rocket

[attr="class","freiwantmid"]CHARACTER RANK grunt

[attr="class","freiwantmid"]FACE CLAIM ifrit from arknights

[attr="class","freiwanttop"]FLAME, GASOLINE

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Ronnie was born in a large family with decent amounts of wealth and success, and ridiculous amounts of pressure. She was expected to be polite, educated and talented - and the most pressure was that she put on herself in the guise of her parents.[break][break]

When she hit thirteen, with the sudden onset of anger and hormones, Ronnie hated her parents and everyone who told her what to do. She was almost grown up, now, and she had it all figured out! Her ambassador father and lawyer mother had never been cool or chill, and had certainly never approved of her doing anything fun, ever. So she decided to stick it to the world and do what she wanted to do - fourteen years old and sneaking off for weekends into the city, shoplifting and smoking with strangers in the park.[break][break]

It didn't take long for things to escalate - more stress, more pressure, more crime. The panic attacks happened usually once a day, sometimes more or less. Everything would get to the point where she couldn't breathe, where everything became white-hot and needed calmness - and for some reason, lighting a garbage can on fire after terrorising some small business owner had slowed everything down.[break][break]

Maybe it was her connection with the Litten that helped her, or the feeling of the lighter in her hands, or the bright focus on the flickering cinders that demanded her attention away from anything else, but it calmed her. The panic dissipated. She could focus. Control your breathing with each fan of the flames. In. Burn. Out. Singe.[break][break]

By age sixteen she was more in Goldenrod than at home, with an older brother currently out at uni who was wonderful and perfect and a collection of failing grades, everything sucked and arguments with her parents were a constant occurrence. Frequently she would sneak out to get high or smoke and drink, and generally spent time causing trouble with a gang of older guys that she had no business running with. It was only after one of them shouted "For the Glory of Rocket!" after stealing loose pokéballs from a centre that Ronnie realised that perhaps her gang was not as small as she had assumed.[break][break]

The next time she came back to the city, they'd all been arrested. She stayed home for a few days before missing the heat and the fire.[break][break]

Graduating ended badly, and university was an obvious no-go. She remained at home for a few years, though rarely spent time there when she could be getting into trouble elsewhere. After a particularly nasty shouting match with her mother, Ronnie left home and didn't look back. Where else would she go? To Goldenrod, where the ruins of Rocket's attempted takeover left her with few allies? It seemed risky, and she feared even now being traced back to them.[break][break]

Instead, she found her brother's name and region of residence. Hoenn, working for HNN. Little mister wonderful had grown up to work a good boy job at some good boy news station, and if he was so damn perfect, maybe he'd be willing to... let her crash on the couch sometimes? Or help with rent, maybe? Please?