[hider]
Name: Emmaline Muller

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Appearance: 

[img]http://safebooru.org//images/1480/cd6a78c842c94af81b57f686d7e7f1c23b38ff73.png?1575899[/img]

6'0 | 150 lb. 

Rank: PFC

Class: Lancer

Weapons and Equipment:
[list]
[*]Lancaar-MSH 01
[img]http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/valkyria/images/d/df/Lancaar-sh_m12.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/210?cb=20111015091937[/img]
[*]Ragnaid (Small)
[*]Pistol (The type Alicia used at the ruins; was that close to a Makarov or a TT?)
[/list]

Personality: Emmaline is best described as a businesswoman who brings stricture and a worker's mindset in and out of the field.  While she comes off as overly serious, sometimes cynical, and often sarcastic, she does have her soft moments when confronted with death, which she views as "just another goddamn door for the reckless or the hopeless".  She fears it as much as the next woman or man, but in her self-righteous perspective, she believes she should be right next in line to the Darcsens, if not in front of the Darcsens, if possible.

That being said, she isn't going to give any special treatment to anyone that's still alive when the dust clears, regardless of what happened in their childhood or the last 25 seconds.

Bio: Emmaline was the overseer of a grain field and mill by the time she was 18, and was already considered in an arranged marriage.  The eldest of four sisters, Emmaline had to hop between taking care of herself and her sisters while her parents tried to ascertain the best match between the three Muller brothers.

It was quite unfortunate to say that they took the Muller cousin, who lied about his wealth and played coolly the poor man against his three cousins.  Emmaline was a little more than disappointed, but at the time said nothing.

Then the war came about, and the Muller cousin fled to avoid the draft. Emmaline wasn't going to stand for that.  In a fit of anger, she burned their small cabin and stomped back to her village, only to find it under attack.  One thing became another and soon, she found herself dropping grenades into the hatch of a tank.

There was a certain satisfaction about explosives one could get from using them.  Maybe it was the comfort knowing that if the shrapnel, the fire, or the force was failing, the shock from the results thereafter would demoralize many.  So when she, amongst a slew of other young people flooding in, was sent to the Academy, she found her calling as a Lancer.

RP Sample: 

Emmaline frowned as she rolled the head of a wheat plant between her fingers.  Today's year was extremely good, since the crops were much hardier than the last three.  They had almost grown wild without her employees noticing, and so the harvest was more of a mad rush to reap, thresh, and process into what would be fine flour for the Capitol.

It came to her as odd that if she did meet the production quota, she was to send every seed of that strain to the Capitol too.  In other words, she was playing roulette on whatever she could muster or send back.  Policies like this made her blood hard-boil, but if she was only reborn as a man...well, then she couldn't wear dresses, couldn't she?

Appreciate your given life, her mom always chimed, but Emmaline always felt she was making withdrawals from a bank of time.  This life of a lady wasn't to her liking, but her brain couldn't frack up any alternatives under that straw-colored hair, so here she was.

A wail from inside the mill told her someone had just soiled themselves again.  Children these days...
[/hider]