Raven stands against the wall, leaning her back against it. Left leg lifted up to press her foot to it, she relishes in how she doesn't need to sit. It's a quiet sort of enjoyment, given how meek the atmosphere is in the room.

Her expression's pensive, arms crossed against her chest. "The colours probably mean something," she says. Considering the nature of how the Ark had been split into stations, the people born in them believed to be skilled in that specific talent, Raven doubts whoever's in charge has a completely different mindset to that.

"No one does anything without reason. Either it's to mess with us, or it's to divide us up. It's not a completely new concept it could be both. Two birds, one stone."