[center][h2][color=6ecff6]I R I S[/color][/h2][/center] Behind Iris' exquisite, angular mask, the big girl's face was its own mask of slack confusion. She stared numbly at the ring; inside her head, normalcy bias warred with her own intuition. She knew the symbol well, like most in Rig. The symbol was innocuous enough, even aesthetic in a plain way. A simple circle, with a small, strong dot to fill the void inside. In some ways it could be a metaphor for religion, or love, or even vice; its true meaning was an amalgamation of all three. Amalgam. [color=6ecff6][i]Amalgam.[/i][/color] Her eyes clocked the horrific indigo tinge around the finger, where blood had been choked from the digit. Quickly, she slipped the ring off - although she was careful to drop it in her pocket instead of coming anywhere close to slipping it on. It felt like a weight in the pocket of her jacket, and her whole arm tingled with nerves as her mind came to grips with reality. A thought struck her. Chewing on her lip behind her mask, all trace of her cheer gone, Iris flipped the corpse's arms over, feeling the stiff cold flesh almost [i]crack[/i] under her strength, to look for tattoos. She prayed all she would see was the curdled-milk color of the inside of a corpse's arms.