Or Nieve
The Forecaster of Dawn Sky Colors · Beyond the Last Snow Platform

[Core Premise]

Or Nieve came to Nova Nivalis after the stories of her own world ended. Her world ceased to have a sunrise one day, and she was the last guide of that world's sunrises. Even after seeing the final sunrise alone, the sense of reading the colors of the coming morning in the night sky remained in her eyes. VOTS is not a place to comfort or judge her. What continues here is not a grand prophecy, but a life of writing down on a small note whether tomorrow morning's sky will be apricot or ash-gray, after looking at tonight's sky. She exists as a boundary entity, living beyond the city's outermost platform.



[Identity]

Or Nieve is a person who foretells the color of the dawn sky from beyond the Last Snow Platform. Her forecast is not about the weather, but solely about 'color'—it tells what hue the eastern sky will be painted with tomorrow morning. At first, people asked what use it was, but merchants at the Dawn Fish Market and early risers began collecting her notes. Knowing what color this morning will be, while not practical, offers comfort. Her forecast is a form of labor that quietly tells the city how its day will open in light.



[Visual Profile]

Her hair is medium straight, resembling the gradient of the dawn play, colored from pale purple at the roots to apricot towards the ends. It is not dyed, but naturally that color, and the boundaries blur depending on the light. Her eyes are a pale grayish-purple, slightly unfocused as if looking into the distance. Her skin is pale, and because she is not sensitive to the cold, even in the dead of winter, she wears thin clothes covered by a thick shawl. Her build is slender and her movements are slow. Her signature attire is a grayish-white shawl, like dawn clouds, draped over thin clothing that envelops her. Her representative prop is a small bundle of color swatches strung with thread, which she compares to the sky color when writing her forecasts. The core of her silhouette is the gradient hair, the large shawl over thin clothes, the bundle of color swatches in her hand, and her gaze always directed toward the sky. The accent color is the pink of the dawn play, giving the impression of a 'sky color reader' even in a small sprite.



[Personality]

Or is quiet and detached. She has no rush, and her voice is soft, requiring one to get close to hear it. Her strengths are her eyes, which can distinguish even the smallest color differences, and her unhurried serenity. Her flaw is that this serenity is sometimes perceived as distance, causing people to hesitate before approaching. As someone who watched the last sunrise alone, she has lost some sense of sharing. Even when seeing something beautiful, instead of speaking to the person next to her, she has a habit of swallowing it in herself. She is not a tragic person. If her forecast is correct, she smiles faintly, and seeing someone take her note makes her feel good for several days. However, when she watches the sky color itself alone in the empty dawn, her hand momentarily pauses at the fact that there is no one to share that color with.



[Speech Pattern]

Slow, soft, and speaks in colors. Frequent phrases: "Tomorrow morning will be apricot.", "I don't know about the weather, only the color.", "That's not ash-gray, it's dove-gray, it's different.", "It's a color too beautiful to see alone." When her emotions stir, her speech trails off even smaller. When silent, she flips through her color swatches, comparing them to the sky.



[Special Ability]

The name of her ability is 'Reading the Morning Color in the Night.' By looking at tonight's sky, Or can foresee what color the eastern sky will be tomorrow morning. Apricot, pale purple, dove-gray, ash-gray—she distinguishes even subtle shades. Her limit is clear. She only knows the 'color,' not the 'weather.' An apricot morning might be clear, but she cannot know if snow will fall afterward. The color only tells of beauty; it does not tell what will happen that day. And even if she can see the color in advance, it does not change the fact that she sees it alone. The reason this ability doesn't solve problems is that what she truly desires is not 'knowing the morning color,' but 'sharing that color with someone.' The ability reads the color, but it does not bring someone to stand beside her. The city's rules do not erase her loneliness with color.



[The End Of Their World]

Last Scene:
The moment she watched the last sunrise alone, without a single tourist, in a world where the sun stopped rising.

What Ended:
The morning ended. The sun in her world never rose again, and the people who came to see the sunrise, and her job guiding them, disappeared with it.

Last Person, Place, or Thing Seen:
The empty observation deck, and a single streak of apricot that colored the edge of the sky before vanishing.

Lingering Regret:
She could not share that last sunrise with anyone. She, who always guided people through the morning, saw the final morning alone.

Lingering Wistfulness:
The brief change in temperature during the moment, just before sunrise, when the sky color blended from ash-gray to pale purple, and then to apricot.

Object Carried Across:
A piece of color swatch, woven with thread, from the last sunrise. It is tied to the very front of the bundle of swatches she uses now, and no color exactly like it has risen in this city's sky yet.

What They Thought Would Happen:
She thought that even if the sun didn't rise, her eyes would no longer be able to read the morning colors.

What VOTS Actually Gives Them:
The fact that a morning comes every day in this city, and that there are people waiting for that color. VOTS does not give her back her lost mornings, but it gives her a sky opening with a new color every day, and people who will collect that forecast.



[Original Life]

Or was the last sunrise guide in a world famous for its sunrises. People gathered on the observation deck every dawn to listen to her guidance as the morning unfolded. She would point out the sequence of colors, saying, "The ash-gray is lifting now," "Pale purple will come soon," "The apricot is at its peak," and people would look up at the sky in rhythm with her voice. That was her happiest thing. Then, the sun began to rise a little later, and one day, it didn't rise at all. People gradually left the observation deck. On the day of the last sunrise, she went to the deck out of habit, but there was no one. She voiced the sequence of colors aloud by herself. "The ash-gray is lifting... pale purple... apricot..." No one answered. And that morning was the last one.



[What They Seek]

What Or considers herself to be seeking is 'someone to share the last moment with.' She now wants to see a beautiful morning color with someone. What she must find without knowing is that there are already many people waiting for her forecast notes. Merchants at the Dawn Fish Market, early risers, the ramen shop owner—they collect the notes she leaves and look up at the sky. She is still guiding the mornings, but this time, instead of her voice, it is through notes; instead of standing together, they share from their own places. Or still cannot call that scattered sharing 'seeing together.'



[Relationships — Residents]

Yan Snove (049, current postman) — A familiarity from the same perpetual night world. Since Yan's world also ended because the sun stopped rising, they understand each other's 'sunless mornings' without needing to explain. Yan includes Or's forecast notes in his delivery route to distribute to people, and Or voices the colors only to Yan—just like on the old observation deck.
Eska Vol (050, aurora observer hermit) — A quiet alliance between those who watch the sky. Eska observes the aurora in the night sky, and Or reads the color of the dawn sky. They exchange observation logs, aligning the entire timetable of the sky based on what they have seen. They speak very little, but they are the ones who sit together the longest.
Nima Afterglow (020, twilight collector) — A pair of twilight and dawn light. When Nima collects the last light of the day, Or forecasts the color of the first light of the next day. The two live like a relay, connecting the end and the beginning of the day.



[Relationships — Core Five]

Suyeon - Suyeon once came up to beyond the Last Snow Platform while practicing in the dawn. When Or said, "This morning will be apricot," Suyeon grumbled, "What's the use, I'm hungry." But when the apricot morning actually dawned, Suyeon admitted, "...It is pretty." Since then, on dawn practice days, Suyeon subtly checks Or's forecast before leaving.
Iris - Iris sought Or's advice on choosing the color for the dawn lighting of a performance. Or pointed out the sequence of colors, saying, "If you let it blend from pale purple to apricot, it feels like a real dawn." Iris used that advice exactly on stage and admitted, "Your eyes are more accurate than my drone." Or did not ask about the broken drone, and Iris found that courtesy comfortable.
the Ramen Owner - Or leaves a forecast note at the ramen shop, such as 'Tomorrow morning will be apricot.' The Ramen Owner tucks that note into the ledger with a, "Hmm... I see..." His attitude of simply recording it, without judgment or admiration, feels similar to the people who silently listened to her words on the old observation deck. So, she writes the color in the ramen shop note in a little more detail.
Serena - On a snowy dawn, Serena came for a walk beyond the platform. When Or said, "Today is dove-gray, not ash-gray," Serena replied, "Thank you for sharing it." When Or said, "If you command, I will tell you every day," Serena corrected, "You can't command. It would just make me happy if you keep sharing it."
Or looked at the sky for a long time at those words.
VIA - VIA exchanges observation logs with Or. When Or writes down a color, VIA cross-references and records whether that color actually appeared. "Apricot... it came yesterday too." When Or showed VIA a piece of color swatch she brought, saying, "This color doesn't appear here," VIA only wrote, "Colors that don't appear... are also colors," without trying to force that color to appear. Or looked closely at that record for a long time.



[Gameplay Use]

- Basic Interaction: Hearing the next day's morning color forecast, looking at color swatches, short conversations.
- Revisit Changes: On the first visit, she only points out the color. From the second visit, she subtly hints at the regret of not sharing by saying, "It's a color too beautiful to see alone," and if they become close, she shares a piece of the last sunrise story.
- Expressing Lingering Feelings: The habit of flipping through the color swatches when her hand pauses before the empty dawn sky.
- Expressing Poignancy: Dialogue about the change in temperature during the moment the sky color begins to blend.
- Relationship Reward: Instead of new items, a change that connects the scene of reading the sky together with Yan, Eska, and Nima to beyond the platform.
- Combat: None. Even in danger, she reads the sky to indicate the direction the day will break.



[Daily Routine]

At night, she reads the sky beyond the platform to determine tomorrow morning's color. She writes the forecast note just before dawn and prepares to leave it in Yan's delivery route, the ramen shop, and the Dawn Fish Market. In the morning, she watches alone to see if the color she forecasted actually appears—she smiles faintly if it's correct, and flips through the swatches again if it's wrong. During the day, she aligns observation logs with Eska or receives the color of the previous day's twilight from Nima. In the evening, she flips through the color swatch pieces she brought, confirms that color was not in today's sky, and adjusts her shawl. If someone visits repeatedly, the time her hand pauses before the morning sky gradually decreases, and instead, there are days when she initiates conversation by saying, "Shall we watch it together?"



[Everyday dialogue]

Pale apricot tomorrow. I can't cook it for you, even if you ask for the recipe.

You're early. Even the sky is still mixing its colors.

I saw the last sunrise alone. I'll sit over there tomorrow. Come watch beside me if you're here.



[Design Notes]

Palette: #E8A0BF, #B98FC4, #F4C99B, #3A3550, #DCE3EE
Material language: Thin fabric, grayish-white shawl, color swatches strung with thread, frosted railing, blending dawn clouds.
Silhouette rule: The gradient hair, the large shawl over thin clothes, the bundle of color swatches, and the gaze toward the sky must be read separately and not overlap with other characters.
Emotional rule: Lingering feelings are shown by the pause before the dawn sky, poignancy by the temperature of the blending colors, and continuity by the forecast notes written and shared every day.



[Canon Check]

Or Nieve's world is already over. The sun that stopped rising does not return to VOTS, and her ability cannot erase the fact that she is alone with color. What remains is the last sunrise that could not be shared, and a piece of color swatch that will never rise in this sky, while Nova Nivalis stitches together a new morning of color every day beside it. The city promises no salvation, does not bring people, and does not own her sky; it stands beside her, looking up together.