• He really loves fish.
• Owns the nudibranch equivalent of a Newfoundland.
• His nickname comes from the pale blue speckling which climbs up the side of his tentacles, which is more solid and persistent than a gradient.
• Can't swim.
• His Enneagram is Type 9, the Peacemaker.

• Athletic build; thick, with especially long, strong legs.
• Tentas take the form of a wedge draped over the right side of his head, chin-length; the left side is shaved.
• Skin around his right eye is discolored, marginally darker than the surrounding skin, like old scar-tissue.
• Has a narrow tooth gap.
• Wears a varsity jacket almost all of the time; owns a lot of tanks or jerseys from various teams. Fashion is sporty or bulky, and reliably practical.

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• Mains the New Squiffer.
• Doesn't fret about Rank; it stays around S to A+ mostly.
• His in-game gear is the Hero Headset Replica (RSU); Varsity Jacket (MPU); and Athletic Arrows (Object Shredder + RSU).
• Has a reputation for being an excellent scrim partner.
• Likes to skirmish (although it isn't the Squiffer's strength).

family life

Two-tone's parents separated under amicable terms at his birth. His mother hadn't wished for a child and wanted after her own pursuits, and so his father raised him, though his mother welcomed his visits with open arms. His father, a fishmonger, often took him to work in order to supervise; Two-tone rapidly inherited a fascination with the open ocean and its ecosystems. Everything had a niche, he learned—a place and a purpose—and had to be kept in balance. As soon as he was old enough, Two-tone's father had him running errands and deliveries across the wharf, endearing him to many of the vendors and their regular customers. He still credits his gregarious nature to this.

Once he entered the school system and no longer shared a schedule with his father, he filled his afternoons with after-school programs, and his evenings fishing off his backyard pier. He found himself an aptitude for athletics, nothing to distract from his grades, a scholarship—he found himself unlocking the door for himself, night after night after night.

Year. After year. After year.

the new squidbeak splatoon

It was only a matter of time before Two-tone sank himself into the Turf scene. It was rather less likely that, at fourteen, while loitering in the Plaza and just not wanting to go home, a strange, shuddering old man should approach Two-tone. This old man spoke of an old war and the missing Great Zapfish—of a desperate grasp at power, of a paradigm shift. Despite the absurdity of it, Two-tone couldn't help but to take Cuttlefish at his word and follow the old man down. He accepted the role of Agent 3, determined to set Octavio to rights.

Two-tone still jokes that the only thing standing between him and his title was a delayed train, but it was an opportunity he was grateful for at the time. Apart from the wonder of being exposed to the Octarian ecosystem, little of the campaign itself was memorable. He was glad to discover such a rich niche for himself and fill the long empty hours of his afternoon; his father had grown used to his periodic absences, and did not ask where he'd gone.

[WIP]