@Evil Snowman After talking it over, we've come to the decision that we don't feel like we can accept Valeriya right now. Some key points in the edits weren't really addressed (things like compatibility which aren't really a point of preference), and as it stands we don't see her fitting into the RP very well in general.
Thanks so much for your interest though. I hope there's no hard feelings, best of luck with your future RPing!
@Evil Snowman@NuttsnBolts I'm in agreement with Nutts here, I think a lot of the issues present with the character are tied to her age and the potential implications that has on the RP.
Standing on the shorter end for her age, with blonde hair nearing her back and wide, lively green eyes, Vera is not an imposing child, which is more than fine by her. It’s rare to see her without a smile on her face, and rarer still to see her frown, even in darker situations she always appears to at least be trying to smile, if for no other reason than to offer a warm look to anyone who might need it.
She tends to dress similarly to Elizabeth, if not a bit brighter. Jackets over bright shirts with a scarf on occasion draped ‘round her shoulders. However, the girl’s staple is without a doubt the ushanka that rarely leaves her head. A memento from the family she never knew.
[ ⛨ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y
Equal parts easily excitable and hard to bring down, Vera displays more happiness than anyone likely has a right to given the state of the world, and especially the state of her home. The type to view every day as a new, wonderful opportunity, every stranger as a friend she hasn’t met yet. She isn’t quite dense to the natural cynicism of the world, though she doesn’t often try to assert her optimism as better, rather she tends to accept the views of others and present her own in kind. To her, bringing a few happy moments when necessary is more important than trying to outright change another’s philosophy, and even in the hardest cases, Vera always manages to find a silver lining, be it in situations or people.
While generally light hearted, Vera can at times display a caretaking maturity. Still unrefined and more reactionary than anything, dealing with trauma is something she learned growing up in the Jackspar home. Often times Elizabeth would end the days a broken wreck, and Vera was glad to be a source of comfort for her. The reclusive Ms. Jackspar never saw her daughter’s breakdowns like she did, never woke up to find Eli in a fit of silent panic, or clawing at her skin like she couldn’t feel it. Celina learned the signs to Eli’s problems, how to order her into preventing them, but Vera learned how to fix them, at least temporarily, and for better or worse, this is largely why the older girl never received professional help.
With the discovery of a potential future as a pilot, Vera has come to realize that she’s spent much of her life thus far as an emotional lifeline to her sister. She doesn’t resent this, and wouldn’t for a heartbeat consider abandoning her, but she can’t help the gnawing lust for an adventurous life not tethered to another. If she could have that, and still be close to Eli, it would all work out. Right?
[ ⛨ ] S K I L L S E T
Creative: Being a fresh pilot in virtually every capacity, Vera has little going for her as far as combat is concerned. However, like most children, she’s possessed of a colorful imagination, which, while somewhat irrelevant, can hold a degree of importance when it comes to devising strategies on the fly.
Determined Diplomat: A fancy term for “good talker”, Vera’s drive to protect people is strong, but her drive to harm others as a means of accomplishing that is rather weak. It doesn’t matter whether it’s before, during, or after a battle, Vera is likely to always have her comms open in an attempt to talk to enemies. You never know, some conflicts might just need the right words to settle.
Novice Dancer: Not particularly great but able to hold a beat, Vera picked up dancing from Elizabeth, and though the two don’t often do it together anymore, she likes to throw a few shimmies into her steps from time to time.
[ ⛨ ] B A C K S T O R Y
Vera was too young to remember her parents leaving, but knows that she was born in what was then Smith’s Rest. Over the years she’s come to understand that the Voloshyna’s were in fact the only family close to the Jackspars, which to her was enough to explain why she was given to them. It never seemed to affect her, even when she was old enough to understand the implications of her situation she never harbored any anger against her parents. She had a home, a mother, and a wonderful sister, to her that was plenty to be happy about.
Eventually however, Vera started to notice cracks. The once warm and caring Celina Jackspar slowly discarded her façade, revealing a cold, calculating woman who shunned her in favor of focusing on her daughter, Elizabeth. And yet Vera was still not deterred. She’d grown attached to the girl, who had in turn grown attached to her, and by the time Vera was cresting nine the two were all but inseparable. So it came as no surprise that when Eli was accepted into the NC program that Vera was brought along as well.
What did surprise them was the possibility that Vera might end up in the cockpit of an NC too. Having been at the facility through vicious assaults and quiet lulls, she’s at least been made aware of the many risks the job entails, yet she’s signed herself on all the same. Now over a month out of surgery, and under the near constant watch of her sister, for the first time Vera is at least somewhat certain of her future, a future she chose. Even through the post-op debilitation, the girl has never been happier.
[ ⛨ ] T H E M E C H (Currently Vera is in training and does not possess an NC, this section acts merely as a potential placeholder)
[ ⛨ ] R E L A T I O N S
Elizabeth Jackspar: Vera’s sister in all but blood, the two share an unbreakable bond. Despite being well younger, Vera does as much worrying for Elizabeth as she receives in turn, and has never shied from being a pillar of comfort for her, especially when they were younger.
Stein Kalfox: Vera likes to view all of the pilots as role models in some capacity, but thus far she’s learned the most from Stein. The Volkov girl reminds her a lot of Eli, so approaching her was never very difficult, talking even less so. Which was good, because without Stein’s confidence in her, Vera might not have made the last push towards becoming a pilot. Now, she considers Stein one of her closest friends and a mentor, despite being aware of her sister’s distrust, silent as it may be.
Percy Moore: Vera will never stop feeling sorry for Percy. A single father with a big heart fighting for his daughter, it doesn’t hurt that daughter is one of her best friends. In all honesty, she doesn’t understand why everyone treats him like the base’s punching bag, but the fact that he never seems to stay down for long is something that’s endeared Mr. Moore to her as something of a hero. A dorky, pun-cracking hero with a slew of apparent issues, but a hero nonetheless.
Ryn Dradht: Vera was ecstatic to see another kid on base, and when she found out that Ryn was a pilot as well, she became one of the coolest people in the world. She isn’t blind –or perhaps more appropriately, deaf– to Ryn’s standoffish nature, but finds herself more often than not laughing it off like its some sort of joke, even if she does endeavor to leave compliments behind to those she berates. Maybe there’s more to Ryn than a sharp tongue and bitter outlook, maybe there’s not, but Vera finds her company pleasant all the same.
Alan Fouren: Vera is glad to have someone like Alan around. Lighthearted, quick-witted, even if he might not be the most experienced, she can at least level with that.
Tahlia Styles: One of the people Vera’s had admittedly little interaction with. She knows Tahlia has experience, which is cool, and she also knows her NC has a bunch of legs, which is arguably cooler. Regardless, she’s glad to have her around, even if they haven’t spoken much –something Vera plans to fix.
Madison Cole: The closest Vera ever got to really meeting Madison was standing outside of her room in the infirmary. A shame, cause she’s almost certain she could have been great friends with anyone who dyes their hair pink.
Celina Jackspar: The woman who was effectively Vera’s mother most of her life, she has mixed opinions about the reclusive woman. While she’s endlessly grateful that Celina took her in, witnessing first hand her brutal, determined nature has instilled a distinct fear in Vera. The woman is not right, of that much she’s certain, but she’s also collected, clever, and above all, dangerous.
Ana Moore: The first real friend Vera made on base, and one of the closest. Vera’s met less than a handful of people with as much energy as Ana, and even if the younger girl has her reservations, she’s enjoyed every moment of their friendship. Deep down, she worries if perhaps she’s been a bad influence, intentionally or otherwise, and even if she’d love to feed Ana’s adventurous side would never purposefully put her in harm’s way.
Michael Graham: Though it seems to be a split topic among her friends, Vera doesn’t share the nebulous distrust that surrounds him. She has no reason to dislike him, and in fact appreciates how he treats her like an adult. He seems to have New Anchorage’s best interests in mind, and she has a hard time believing he would do anything to put innocent people in danger.
All things considered, things seemed to be going well. At least, Ezran thought so. The boy –Brendan, he now knew– was every shade of polite he’d ever seen, and some he hadn’t. Every noble encounter he’d had before was tacked with an obligation to create meaningless small talk, ask about provinces he was hardly aware of, and be regaled with a flurry of information on nameless marriages, scandals, and the like. To meet someone so…accommodating was strange, to say the least. Even Mara seemed a tad surprised, smirk tugging stronger for a moment, like she was trying not to laugh at a joke.
To be honest, paired with his first outreach to another, he wasn’t as drawn to the prospect of continued silence as he was prior. Talking to a Darkthrone noble who’s conversational interests barred on how close the king was and if he could hear them was another matter, but Brendan was not nearly as abrasive.
He still let the silence hang a moment, on reflex alone testing to see if indeed he didn’t prefer it. Perhaps it was just a momentary urge, or he was confusing a desire to socialize with a panic to run away. But, the moments passed and still he found himself at least wanting to listen to the other boy speak. He had a pleasant voice, and in only a few sentences had introduced a story promising plenty of intrigue.
Finally: “I’ve not heard of you,” the words were blunt, an affirmation to Brendan’s query rather than a demeaning statement. “Never met a rogue prince, interesting title. Did you earn it?”
The more he spoke the less confident in his words he was. Was he being too forward? Was there an insult buried in subtext that he wasn’t aware of? He’d never been to Tromania, perhaps there was some custom against curt replies. It would be a lie to say making an offense now would pain him, it was doubtlessly the most effort he’d put into a conversation in months.
Another fact he saw was apparent to Mara, who gave a subtle thumbs-up under her folded arms, then ushered him to continue on.
"It's a knife, it doesn't have a story." (Art courtesy of @ADParis)
[ ⛨ ] C A L L S I G N
Blur
[ ⛨ ] N C O R I G I N
Smith’s Rest (Now called New Anchorage)
[ ⛨ ] D.O.B.
May 1st 2656 (21)
[ ⛨ ] G E N D E R
Female
[ ⛨ ] A P P E A R A N C E
Eli is pale as a ghost, chalky from hair to toe, most wouldn’t hesitate to describe her as “haunting”. However, what people tend to notice first about her are her eyes. Icy, both in color and gaze, she always appears to be judging her surroundings, be they people or otherwise, and it’s rare that they hold even a glimmer of levity in public view. Rarer still are smiles, laughs, slouches, but an attentive eye wouldn’t struggle to spot wayward twitches, restless legs, and tapping fingers.
Her attire leans towards casual however, often wearing hooded jackets and rarely caught without a scarf worn high up her chin. Beneath everything is the pilot suit, worn near constantly. She’d claim this as common sense, practical for quick response, but she’s as attached to the piece as her own skin.
[ ⛨ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y
Cold and dismissive to all but her superiors, but unerringly dutiful and devoted to the protection of New Anchorage. Elizabeth is a good soldier, a great soldier even, but little else. Growing up in what was essentially a broken down building full of books, and rarely being permitted to leave, shaped Eli at a young age less like a person and more like a lump of clay. She feels no sense of loss for any would-be social life, no sorrow for being deprived a childhood, only a sense of duty, and a longing for the fulfillment of that duty.
The protection of New Anchorage is without a doubt the most important thing to Eli, and anything that could be perceived as a threat to the people of her home should not be tolerated. It didn’t matter that she’d met none of them, it didn’t matter that until she stepped into her mech next to no one even knew she existed, what mattered was defending her home from all threats, foreign and domestic.
It did not become apparent until her teenage years that Eli had developed identity issues, though any outward eyes could have foreseen it. This is only heightened by a high sync-rate, something the girl is silently but immensely thankful for. When connected to her mech, and only then, does Eli feel certain of herself, like she’s stepped out of her constricting, ill-fitting skin. No doubts, no twitches, no shakes, only a unification of mind and body. And so, the inevitable disconnection never fails to leave her mentally ajar, a fact that would be unmistakably evident were she not so good at hiding it.
[ ⛨ ] S K I L L S E T
CQC: Both in and out of the mech, this is Elizabeth’s strongest skill. Growing up without the means to practice with firearms, she learned quick and learned well to trust her two hands and what she could swing with them. Eventually this translated much more elegantly into a form of swordplay in anticipation of a melee-oriented NC piloting career, and so her prowess with most things what can be held and cut with is highly refined. Unfortunately, if not predictably, she is untrained and unskilled with guns, having only operated a firearm outside of her mech, and in the context of a test.
Reflexive: Elizabeth is quick, both in body and mind. While this doesn’t necessarily equate to a proficiency in tactics, she is able to form appropriate reactions in combat, and in prolonged engagements –especially in close quarters– is able to begin analyzing offensive and defensive patterns in her opponent.
Driven: Perhaps not explicitly a skill, but doubtless one of her most notable traits. Elizabeth does not shy from completing a mission or fulfilling an order, be it in combat or otherwise. Her fierce loyalty combined turn many scenarios to “do or die” in her mind, something that, while sometimes advantageous, can be equally dangerous.
[ ⛨ ] B A C K S T O R Y
”Eli”
Eli was eight years old when she learned her name was short for “Elizabeth”. Her mother, the librarian recluse Celina Jackspar, had used it once, the first time she’d cried during her training.
”Get up, Elizabeth. Now. And never cry in front of me again.” And she never did.
The Jackspars might have been lepers for how little they interacted with the world. Confined to a modestly sized “library” nestled in the corner of what was then “Smith’s Rest”, few ever visited, and fewer were actually aware the spindly woman had a child. With little to their name aside from cases and piles of books, collected from far and unspoken edges, it would not have been unreasonable to assume the family would contribute nothing great to the world. They would exist quietly amidst a sea of old knowledge, and overtime the Jackspar name would peter out.
Celina would not allow such an outcome.
The training began early, and never slackened. Eli learned from a young age what she was, and would be, that the good majority of her life would be spent inside the cockpit of a mechanical behemoth. She did not attend school, she did not socialize with peers, she rarely left the library at all. Her life was dedication, she had to let go of the urges to want, and focus entirely on the future.
”Up.” And she got up.
The Jackspars could afford no firearms, and so forewent practicing them. Instead it was decided that Eli would master the art of melee combat in their absence. Lyosha Voloshyna, a carpenter and one of the family’s only “friends”, happily supplied them with wooden models of various swords, ranging from the typical and familiar, to the foreign and unique.
Eli was made to train with them day in and day out. They would not be weapons held, they would be extensions of her own body, or she would fall short. Countless other prospective pilots had the advantage of proper training, they could afford to be merely “adequate” so long as they rounded out a checklist and passed the neural exam.
”I don’t want you on-par, I want you better. Keep going.” And she would.
Hour after hour Eli practiced, submitting herself to the forms and tests of balance. By the time she was in her middle teens, picking up a sword felt like raising her hand, swinging felt like punching. Her threshold for pain was pushed further each day, and every time she kept her mouth shut, kept her face calm, she would catch the ghost of a smirk flicker over her mother’s face. Moving had become a dance, and she was the prima.
When she was fifteen, a practice sword broke in her hand, splintering midway down the blade. It was old, nothing unexpected, and the shattering caused her no physical harm. All the same Eli froze, wide eyes fixated on the broken blade, and her arm, then the girl collapsed in a fit of agony.
Celina watched, shocked.
”Get up.” But she didn’t. ”Elizabeth, get. Up.” But she couldn’t. It took all of her strength not to cry.
It was her first major incident, and the only one Celina ever saw. It took a few years to realize they weren’t going to stop, and seeking professional psychiatric help would murder Eli’s chances at becoming a pilot, so Celina resolved to handle the situation in her own way.
Eli knew Eli. Celina knew Elizabeth.
”Stop shaking.” And she would.
The final years leading up to application were smooth by Celina’s standards. Her daughter was sharp, fast, resilient, and above all, obedient. She would protect Smith’s Rest, she would protect its people, and she would do so under the instruction of whosoever commanded the forces.
Second to her, of course.
[ ⛨ ] T H E M E C H
The Blur is a lightweight NC that mirrors many of its pilot’s features. Stark white with only a few wayward cerulean lights and the bright azures of its jets to stand out, of standard height but slight of frame and thinly armored. It is clear at a glance that Blur is not built to receive much punishment, which is just fine by Eli.
Blur is an embodiment of the “high-risk-high-reward” philosophy. With its primary function being the melee engagement of high-priority targets, many of its maneuvers, both combative and evasive, necessitate a near-reflexive sync rate, and even then it’s rare for the NC to emerge from solo engagements unharmed. In reality, Blur is designed to work alongside a team and is often even dependent on one, despite that the pilot may deny it. Its standard armaments are as follows:
NA01 Energy Sword: Blur’s primary weapon, the blade is projected from the handle. A contingency, physical blade, carried onboard, can be attached as well with edges able to sustain similar heat.
Deployable Claws: Blurs fingers are overlaid by sharp attachments designed to latch on and stay on. Can be activated and retracted.
Explosive Charges: For breach scenarios and other situations that require the close-proximity planting of explosives. Housed in two separate pieces to prevent accidental detonations due to trauma/weapon fire.
Its notable equipment is as follows:
OMNI Propulsion System: Blur's key assets are speed and maneuverability and these owe largely to the propulsion system which served as the foundation for the NC's design. Four powerful engines on Blur's back act as the central piece, sleek and jutting like stagnant wings. Firing at once they allow for rapid acceleration and a tremendous peak-speed. As well, each can adjust direction independently, which, in addition to the thrusters at the base of Blur's legs, grant the NC fantastic directional control.
Flare Cache: Typical of any evasive NC, but nonetheless crucial, Blur houses a small volley of deployable flares.
[ ⛨ ] R E L A T I O N S
Vera Voloshyna: While never officially adopted by the Jackspars, Elizabeth considers Vera both a sister, and her closest friend. She knew the younger girl from early childhood, and, during her troubles, found a sole solace in Vera’s company. To this day, Eli is a different person when around her, as though Vera’s kind and caring nature has molded what little of her Celina has left untouched.
Stein Kalfox: A notable addition to the troop originally working under Sophia, Elizabeth respects Stein as a skilled pilot, and admires her work ethic. She brings a degree of discipline to what can at times be an embarrassing display. However, the girl’s deep Volkov roots make her more than an outsider, they make her a dangerous outsider, and one that Eli is glad to call an ally, but wary of all the same.
Percy Moore: Elizabeth’s opinion on Percy has shifted over time. His position among the first group has instilled in her a sense of trust, but at the same time she’s come to understand that attempting to predict his actions is a fruitless endeavor. More recently she’s come to respect him and his resolve, especially after passing Graham’s Ultimatum, and though there seems to be a general consensus that he is either unfit to pilot or is otherwise unequipped, she can’t help but harbor a morbid assurance that he is among the most dangerous of New Anchorage’s group.
John “Jingo” Strange: Another pilot Eli has a degree of trust for purely by virtue of experience. They've fought together alongside the first wave of SR pilots for the benefit of her home, and while she sees him as odd and perhaps distracting to the focus of the group, she'd rather him than a stranger.
Madison Cole: Despite having served with her in Smith’s Rest’s first NC group, Elizabeth interacted little with Madison outside of combat. She remembers her as a competent pilot, if hot-headed, and remembers with no small degree of guilt her suggestion to leave the girl behind in favor of completing their mission. Regardless, she maintains that Madison would make a good addition to the team again when she recovers.
Agatha Smith: The eldest pilot by a fair margin, Eli has had wary eyes on Agatha from her first day. Is she too old to do her job, or too good to be trusted? Agatha is one of the few that Eli has directly expressed her caution to, as well as her respect. She’s certain no one can survive in their field without a purpose, and whatever Agatha’s is, Eli can at least commend her for persevering. Of course, respect is not complacency.
Tahlia Styles: Among the second wave of pilots was the stark and strong Tahlia Styles, a woman Eli hasn’t known long enough to get enough of a gauge on, despite seeing her relatively often. Her apparent skill as a pilot on further fuels a familiar distrust that overpowers most feelings Eli has on Tahlia.
Ryn Dradht: Loud, rash, and horrible for moral –something Eli cares admittedly little for, but nonetheless– Ryn is not what she considers a “great” addition to the team at face value. However how she acts out of her NC is not important compared to her ability to pull her own weight in combat and stay loyal, and as long as those fields are met, Eli’s just as glad to keep her mouth shut.
Ordent Callaway: Quiet, but not quite in the troubling way. Eli doesn’t have much to say about the new pilot, except that she’s not sure she trusts him to defend New Anchorage on skills alone, not even going into what she might think of him as a person.
Alan Fouren: Eli isn’t sure what Alan’s deal is. At first she assumed his enlistment was some sort of joke she wasn’t getting; he doesn’t act like a soldier, his mech is a shambling mismatched monster, and he only just scraped by Graham’s tests. Does he expect an easy job? A quick paycheck? Either he’s an incompetent fool, or he’s holding back, and Eli isn’t about to put up with either.
Michael Graham: Celina’s only fear when she sent Elizabeth off was how she would adjust to a change in authority. Thankfully she reacted well, finding a comfort and even mentor figure in Sophia, which made the woman’s eventual desertion strike that much harder. So, to put it simply, Eli doesn’t like Graham. She respects him, his word, she heeds him as a strong leader and soldier, and on the basis of her enlistment could not fathom disobeying him, but she doesn’t for a moment trust him.
Celina Jackspar: Elizabeth’s mother, and the one responsible for the young woman’s development. Eli holds her mother in higher regard than any other, and follows her commands as though they were her own thoughts. Though this relationship is kept subtle and secret whilst the two are apart, together there is little doubt that the girl is utterly subservient and perhaps even inwardly terrified of her mother.
By the time Ezran noticed the Tromani boy and his companion, a quick glance showed that Mara had spotted them first. Nothing overt, no narrowed eyes thoroughly searching for weapons, no skepticism to be displayed in any shift of posture, only a subtle change in her attention, a cocked brow, then her head rested back against the wall. Safe, he knew, but an illogical doubt simmered in his gut all the same.
For a few moments it seemed fruitless, like the two had only come for a quick respite from an exhausting series of “such a pleasure to see you again” and “how fares your kingdom”. Ezran was happy enough to share the space, even felt a sense of pride in knowing the other boy would be allowed uninterrupted peace while he stayed –uninterrupted at least by him. A sort of silent solidarity, like the kind held among the Darkthrone soldiers before battle. Mara had told him of the quiet nights, shadowy figures hunched around a fire, or tucked in a cave, with naught but errant eyes and the sounds of whet stones on steel to betray life and intrigue. He wondered, briefly, if such an unspoken language could be taught, or if it was simply learned through trial.
But it was only brief, as it turned out the boy was not invested in silence. The question was nonchalant, and Ezran was admittedly envious of how easily he could ask himself into a conversation with a stranger. Mara was the same way, one of the few he’d ever heard speak so casually to his uncle, not to mention the Darkthrone king. But where hers was a more rustic offhandedness, the Tromani boy was distinctly regal, and Ezran found himself caught in an embarrassingly quiet few moments, mouth open as though meant to form words with no air. Then, as though his body acted of its own will to spare his dignity, he shook his head and bought the time to work up an answer.
”No.”
And that was that, just as quickly he turned his eyes back to the floor and folded his arms tight beneath either edge of his cloak, as if the room had suddenly been sucked of its heat. The familiar awkwardness that accompanied most of the things he said had long since lost its bite, and he’d have been plenty content to simply stand there in maintained quiet. However, another glance to Mara changed his mind.
Her expression said what she didn’t. ‘You turn around and make nice or I swear on Gaea’s hairy ass…’
Ezran cleared his throat, looking back to the Tromani boy. He gave a nod and extended a hand out, heedless to its rough leather-bound glove. There was much less of a delay in his next reply, as though spurred on by the holes Mara’s eyes burned into the back of his neck.
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