[quote=@ERode]
[@AardWolf]Oh, I see where you're going now. I'd say that if they're genuine about their current emotion, they'd still be painted in the relevant color, but she simply won't be able to interact with that color the way she can do so for more duplicitous individuals. So she doesn't get rekt when she walks into a room and everyone just happens to be wearing their heart on their sleeves.
[/quote]

I was worried I wasn't getting the concept across well enough, so I'm glad you got it, and that actually makes sense, I'll keep that in mind. Also finally finished filling this out:

[hider=The Artist]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/474x/cb/2c/4f/cb2c4f958f52dee3a44374845aea95ff--anime-girl-lonely-art-anime-girl.jpg?b=t[/img][/center]
[b][i][color=4682B4][u]Identity:[/u][/color][/i][/b] 
Black hair matches the somber dark brown eyes of the 20 year old university student, her appearance neither ugly nor outstandingly attractive kept properly to garner enough attention but not draw any unwanted advances, still a second year in her art school, the small woman stand's around 5'4" and is rather touchy on that subject, couple that with her being built rather small for her age she's often mistaken still for a high schooler and often has to prove her age even to her other classmates. Often carrying herself with a sense of aloofness she gives off an air that she doesn't wish to be bother. Even though she's living in a small respectable apartment complex Yahiro Emu still goes out of her way to take a route to school to keep others from finding out that she lives in such a sub-par area of town, let alone risk the chance that her mother crosses their path. Born in the city, and even after seeing the type of place it truly is she still calls it home, she's not once left it.

[b][i][color=4682B4]Psyche:[/color][/i][/b] 
Perfectionist.
Those are the only thought's that often drive the young artist, having seen her mother fall and fall again as she desperately clings onto whatever man has the deepest pockets until he discards her and she's left to deal with another drunken lecture about how all men are dogs and how they always leave once they've gotten what they want; always biting back the comment of perhaps it was how her mother was all to willing to open her legs at the sight of a single whisper of money and being kept was the reason she was left. Disgusted with it all, she clings to the one talent she possesses, painting, putting bright colors onto blank canvases to craft something anything that will take her mind away for a little while. Anything that will place her high enough that others look to her in admiration, in awe, she refuses to be the one begging for attention and often pushes herself to far in her pursuit of being on top, perfect grades, the perfect composure, the perfect lie she's crafted for others to believe but with each day it gets harder and harder to keep that stupid smile plastered across her face all to aware of the cracks slowly chipping away at her mask.
 
[b][i][u][color=4682B4]Background:[/color][/u][/i][/b] 
Her father left when she was 6, and for awhile her mother kept it together working two or three odd jobs to keep them a float and enough to still send the young girl to school, in shabbier clothing, second hand notebooks, little things that burned embarrassment into Emu who didn't understand why she couldn't have the things she once had before. Perhaps it was her constant questioning about why daddy wasn't coming home or why she couldn't have the newest toy when all the other kids in class had it that drove her mother towards the bottle, or was it the man who kept showing up and chatting to her mother whenever she dropped her off at school. She remembered him coming over a lot more, bringing her presents and telling her to be a good girl for her mother, he didn't last long and it wasn't even longer before another man took his place.

She was 10 when her mother started her job at Narcissus, a host club of ill renown in the red light district of town but she believed her mother when she said it was just a job as a receptionist for wealthy clients who needed to rest. How naive she was, thinking back on it she should've known better when her mother came home with reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke going on and on about this business man who was going to take them out of this dump and give them the life her disappointment of a father never could. It was around then that she stopped doing household work all together and the young Emu quickly learned how to take care of herself, using the small allowance her mother left to either buy cheap food at the convenience store or she'd have to start skipping her art club to make the sales at the supermarket. 

By the age of 16 her mother all but stopped coming home, if the landlord hadn't taken pity on the poor girl she would've been homeless long ago, either that or her mothers generous display of piety, as she called it. She could still remember the scream matches between the two of them once things turned sour, it was then she started selling her artwork, anything that she didn't need to survive. Collectibles, CDs, Limited Edition Releases. Often things she had saved up scrapping by with her meager allowance to be able to have. She worked a few years as a clerk at the supermarket she frequented, either early before school or after she got out, once again putting her art club on hold. She was only surprised the first few times she came home and found her mother passed out on the floor cursing out some man or another in her drunken slumber, tucking her into bed and leaving a glass of water with some headache medicine next to it before focusing on her college applications desperately trying to fill her portfolio to apply for a scholarship. 

Now a second year at her university, she still comes home often to a trashed apartment and a mother she had slowly grown to despise either gushing over some new man that would leave her soon enough, or drunk on whatever bottles she still had stashed away. No matter how many of them she trashed, her mother always had more.
 
[b][i][u][color=4682B4]Quirks:[/color][/u][/i][/b] 
She likes write down the colors she sees painted on people, sometimes taking the time to sit and paint the world in front of her eyes.

[b][i][u][color=4682B4]Relationships:[/color][/u][/i][/b]
[list]
[*][url=http://livedoor.blogimg.jp/vipsister23/imgs/8/e/8e9ad3f3-s.jpg]Yahiro Shizuri[/url]: Mother
Emu uses the term loosely when speaking of this woman, a middle age woman who found herself single with a small child. There was no plan for this in her life, she thought she had done well snagging herself a high paying business man; even if it was a loveless marriage she thought he would've stayed out of obligation or his genuine love her for their daughter. She never thought she was one to be that naive, even more so believing that any of the men who come and flatter her at the club truly meant to free her from this life she had spiraled into. Too afraid to face her own daughter, she either avoids home or finds courage in a bottle to meet the empty stare from the young woman she no longer knows. Part of her wants to fix things, to try and start again, but part of her believes its too late. 



[*][url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2f/93/4e/2f934ef2ac0c3631556ecb49e755854f.jpg]Nashio Hatsu[/url]: Best Friend
Hatsu has known Emu since most of her childhood, having watched her go through so many changes she strives to be a bright spot in her life. While they don't share the same passion for art, her wanting to be a marine biologist both of them often find beauty down at the aquarium often spending countless of Emu's days off there to forget about the world outside. Though she knows she can't fix whats happened she just wishes that she could at least see her friends real smile from time to time. Often the art student uses her as a grounder, a reminder that not everyone wants to be perfect. She provides a semblance of peace.


[*][url=https://static.zerochan.net/Gintama.full.1000514.jpg]Sakimoto Keishi[/url]: Teacher
Perhaps the most intriguing person Emu has met. He doesn't match his color. She often wonders if it's a mistake, that maybe her eyes are wrong, but from day to day it hasn't changed he's wore a single stroke of color simply happy not hiding anything at all. He's a polar opposite of her, the one who tries desperately to try and hide behind the mask and flurry of colors she paints herself with. A relatively new teacher, having only transferred her at the start of her second year, he's taken an interest in her art work. Saying that it lacks truth and that no one would truly resonate with it until she stopped trying to paint lies. He's not someone she often goes out of her way to interact with, he sets her on edge. He's hiding something but she can't tell by his colors and it confuses her.
[/list]

[b][i]Locations:[/i][/b]
[list]
[*][color=4682B4]Tenoroshi University of Art:[/color]
The commute route she chooses to take increases the 10 minutes train ride from her home to 20 minutes so that she arrives from the shopping district rather than the housing development on the outside of the red light district. A reputable university, with a decent employment track record and an art program that she can couple with a teaching license. Also housing economic and acting majors, it even cares a small nursing program for the select few capable of being accepted. A smaller university nestled in the north side of Tenoroshi, often considered a sister school to the Tenoroshi University of Science & Commerce, the lesser sister meant for those who couldn't cut in the real work force. There's a small tension and rivalry between the two schools, one that she notices when she has to attend the monthly seminar hosted by the larger school.


[*][color=4682B4]ベルシャトー魚昌/Le Belle Château Uomasa:[/color]
A decent enough apartment complex, an apartment that was once her childhood home now littered with take out containers and used art supplies on one half, the other with scattered clothing and empty bottles. What was once filled with laughter and comfort now barren and desolate. It had long stopped being a home for either of them, now it was merely a place to rest as its inhabitants avoided each other. A lone futon sat in front of a tv that no longer had cable, a table meant for four now only showed wear enough for one when it was graced enough to a presence, alcohol stains soaked into the wood. A two bedroom, one bath set up. One room had its walled covered in sketches and paintings, many of them of people who walk past the window covered in paint, the floors littered with school and sketch books stuffed full of loose paper and notes. The other is more barren, devoid of life, used as a storage for piles of clothing and a lone bed.


[*][color=4682B4]Narcissus:[/color]
A low end hostess club settled in the seedier part of the red light district, rather renown for all the right reasons and all the wrong ways. Often its patrons are ones who aren't well received at home or can't afford to go to nicer ones without having to suck up to their boss, watching them make passes at women they could only dream of. Shizuri's current place of employment. The top hostess in the bar, sadly that wasn't much of an honor. She often work's there late nights and almost every night drinking and flattering the poor souls that come in there while her own drowns in each cup. Cheap red couches with mystery stains, cheap liquor and cheaper glasses litter the tables coupled with snacks brought from the run down food cart out front. The sign buzzes as the neon lights flickered desperately to stay light in the cold city air.
[/list]

[/hider]