[hr]
[center][img] https://fontmeme.com/permalink/251104/7914446c20da3934bf8035905e0e5e85.png[/img][/center][hr]
          What a colorful cast of people to have been roped into an initiation with. Her head remained low as she adjusted the hood over her head and tugged the hem along her cloak to create a sort of artificial vantablack shadow over her face, concealing her face before the show began to start. Actually, it wasn't so much that she was trying to conceal her identity, but more so a ritualistic preparation for her own capabilities to be displayed for the individuals around her. While some would draw their flaming swords and flamboyant chakrams to display their grandiose capabilities, Eleanor felt that her own armaments wouldn't shine too brightly with all the peacocking. She was confident in what the Red Hood was capable of, it was just a matter of waiting for an opportunity to arise.

     The proctors scribbling notes before the assessment did strike Eleanor's nerves a bit. It rewarded the outwardly expressive, or perhaps encouraged people to be more visibly expressive with their powers and the mannerisms. Hopefully she wouldn’t be docked points for her introverted behavior and reclusiveness. What mattered most to her would be the performance displayed on the job, so whatever this simulation ended up being was where her focus remained. While the others introduced themselves to one another and made promises of assisting the stragglers if they stumbled during this pseudo-field test, Eleanor would finally break her silence to simply state her own heroic monicker before a burst of raven’s feathers erupted from her hand as the wicker basket which paired with her hood made itself manifest. 

[center][color=FF5959]”Red Riding,”[/color][/center]

     Ele did not intend to be facetious or edgy by any means, but it would be difficult to argue against it with her actions thus far. She was the eldest there other than the actual Guild staff running this event, which, yeah that did create a bit of a barrier between her and the other heroes in the room. Thankfully, it seemed as if the simulation was on the brink of beginning so she would once again scan the many individuals that were testing alongside her, measuring them, and mentally noting which ones might lack the mobility that she would be able to provide. The last thing she would do— lest someone interrupt her from doing so, is reach down into her basket of anything and pull out a handful of blueberry granola and bring it up into the swirling shadow that concealed her face, chewing it down in preparation.