#gtkmo: 5

[bardic-tales]

Question 4 | Bianca Moore | Question 6

Sometimes, the most intimate truths about a character aren’t found in the grand battles or sweeping romances. They’re hidden in the quiet details: a favorite color, a flower pressed between journal pages, or a taste that brings a ghost to the table. For this article in “Get to Know My Character” series, we’re stepping away from the cosmic warfare and deep metaphysics of Bianca Moore’s life to explore her favorites: the sensory talismans that anchor her to a self she rarely gets to be. These choices aren’t random. They are loaded with memory, survival, and symbolism. Because for someone like Bianca, even a muffin isn’t just a muffin. It’s a moment she lost. A world she still grieves.

So if you’ve ever wondered what the Harbinger of Death and Rebirth finds beautiful, sacred, or worth savoring, this is where you’ll find her. Layer by layer. Petal by petal. Bite by aching bite.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Death of a parent, Grief, Murder

Bianca’s favorite color is a tie between silver and crimson red: two hues that perfectly encapsulate the dual nature of her existence. Silver represents her celestial origins and the cold, radiant distance of the cosmos she was born to defy. It evokes clarity, judgment, and detachment. These are qualities she often relies on to shield her vulnerable core.

On the other hand, Crimson red is the color of spilled blood, raw passion, and burning purpose. It is the color of her trauma and her resolve. Where silver distances, crimson binds. In a world constantly trying to define her by one half of her nature or the foreign cells in her blood, she instead embraces both colors as emblems of her fractured unity.

Her favorite animal is the raven, a creature often misunderstood yet rich in symbolism. To Bianca, ravens are messengers between life and death, truth and illusion: an echo of her own role as a celestial being who communes with spirits and drifts between realms. Their intelligence, solemn presence, and association with omens align naturally with her role as the Harbinger of Death and Rebirth.

Unlike the typical associations with doves or wolves, the raven speaks to her inner world: elegant, calculating, untrusting, and entirely unconcerned with how others perceive its beauty. She dislikes rats. Not for their appearance, but for what they represent: decay without purpose, intrusion without warning, and the way they always seem to thrive in the shadows of things once pure.

Bianca’s favorite food is pumpkin muffins, but only the kind her mother, Sarah Moore, used to bake every October. Warm with cinnamon, cloves, and just a little too much burnt sugar, they were never perfect, but they were hers. Sarah made them as the leaves fell and the veil between worlds thinned, insisting each year that something sacred lingered in the air. In a childhood marked by chaos, violence, and things Bianca couldn’t name yet, the scent of those muffins became her safe place. They were an anchor to a moment where love was warm, and her mother’s soft voice drowned out the nightmares.

But that warmth was stolen. Sarah died on a cold December morning, murdered by Azrakiel’s cult while Bianca and her father were out buying her a Christmas gift. She never got to say goodbye. Never got to taste those muffins again with her mother humming at the stove, wiping flour on her apron. Now, every bite Bianca takes is a resurrection and a funeral all at once. Each bite is grief baked into sugar, loss folded into memory. She rarely eats them anymore. Life doesn't give her space to grieve softly. But when she does, when the craving claws through the armor, the first bite always hits like Sarah pressing a kiss to her temple.

In that moment, Bianca is ten years old again, in a kitchen bathed in morning light. Her mother is alive. And for the span of a heartbeat, the war stops and she is not the Harbinger of Death and Rebirth but, simply, Bia.

As for her favorite drink, Bianca prefers a deep red Malbec. She enjoys the bitter complexity and velvety finish. It’s a drink that demands time, thought, and presence, much like herself. Red wine is sensual without being loud and assertive without being overbearing.

Malbec, in particular, feels like the flavor of blood. It’s not a drink for casual evenings or empty celebrations. Although she can not get drunk due to her celestial nature, Bianca only drinks it when something meaningful is being remembered or destroyed.

Her favorite flower is the black rose, and unsurprisingly so. It embodies everything others have feared in her and everything she has reclaimed. Often associated with mourning, vengeance, and dark beauty, the black rose to Bianca is not a symbol of death. It is a symbol of rebirth forged in the ashes of annihilation. It is the flower she would leave behind as both a warning and a signature, a thing as lovely as it is dangerous. The black rose blooms as a quiet defiance against everything that ever tried to control her.