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[quote=Cinny, to her copilot.][color=BBF6FF][b][i]*Enthusiastic finger guns*[/i][/b][/color][/quote][/CENTER]
[h3]Personal Dossier[/h3][hr][sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Name[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Cincinna "Cinny" Siloux[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Age[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]18[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Gender[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Female[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Origin[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Mālum, Teegarden System[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Appearance[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]For a space hick, Cinny is a bit of an anomaly. Living in the near-perpetual shadow of her system’s only habitable planet, she lacks the stereotypical awkward tan and sun-bleached hair of farmers from other, more standard planets. She is in fact rather pale, without freckles or blemishes apart from calloused hands and the occasional scar from dealing with varmints and other unwanted guests. Her attire certainly fits the bill however, finding comfort in old staples like overalls, boots, and gloves, though she’s had to give most of that up since joining Taiyōtawa Academy. 

Cinny is average in height and surprisingly middling in weight, due to poorly-paying work and the rule that it was generally bad business to eat the crops you were selling. Nevertheless, she’s no twig to be blown over; there’s a deceptive amount of well-worked muscle on those bones as well as the wherewithal to use them.[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Personality[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Despite growing up in the dark, Cinny is possessed of a near-invincibly sunny disposition. Friendly, empathetic, and trusting to a definite and undeniably detrimental fault, she is at once easy to befriend, and difficult to be rid of. She prefers the company of others, partly because she genuinely enjoys being around people, and partly because she utterly despises being alone. 

Unfortunately, this craving for companionship is hindered a bit by the fact that Cinny has said perhaps six words in the past four years. She was never a particularly talkative child, but following the murder of her brother and loss of her home, Cinny has rarely ever been able to utter a word in the presence of anyone, even just herself. Medical evaluations have pinned the condition as concretely psychological, but despite the numerous reminders that “it’s all in her head,” and the urging that she needs to “move on,” she hasn’t. She can’t. 

Thankfully tablets, text-to-speech, and good old pen n’ pad have gotten her along, and she’s even taken up learning some rudimentary signing. However, were it not for the fact that the link between Coordinators is largely mental, she’d likely have no place in Taiyōtawa or Project Valkyrie.
[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Background Information[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Cincinna was born on Mālum, and was eight years old when she discovered from her brother, Ptolemy, that its full name was [i]Mālum floresco in umbra,[/i] “The apple that grows in the shade.” He’d said it with such distaste that she understood immediately why he chose to go by “Lem,” and shortly thereafter, she shortened her own name to “Cinny.”

Life on Mālum was peculiar, floating in the shadow of the system’s only other planet, Ventus, (which itself had some overly-long, descriptive name amounting to something along the lines of, “the sun’s favorite child,” despite that it was arid to the point of uninhabitability.) Cinny’s home was draped in perpetual shadow, with its brightest hours coming, ironically, during the rising of the moon. But Mālum persisted and thrived in its own way. Its soil was rich, and the crops it yielded grew with astounding speed so long as they were not exposed to direct sunlight. As such, Mālum found itself a small yet lucrative niche acting as a source of food for the Confederacy. 

And as with anything of value, there were people seeking to steal it. 

The Siloux farm was among Mālum’s most successful, owing to a long lineage of seasoned farmers, honed techniques, and a ridiculously fertile span of land. Ptolemy was the eldest of two children, and was forced to take responsibility of the operation as well as his young sister when their parents passed. In addition to keeping the small yet loyal group of farmhands organized, the duty also fell upon him to protect his land from the array of predators set upon it, man and beast and machine alike. But Lem never cracked under the pressure.

Pirates were simple enough to handle. Lem was an ace with a gun, and a born leader, and so it was that time and again a band of marauders would sail planet-side, try their hand at driving the Silouxs off, only to be thrown back into orbit with their tails between their legs. 

Ascendancy meddling came in more nuanced forms, the most dangerous of which was the introduction of strange, predatory species. Alien beasts from other worlds more vicious than most anything the generally docile and dark planet had to offer would occasionally, "spontaneously" appear to wreak havoc near and around the farm.

Lem brought Cinny into the fold then, and she held a gun long before she ever handled a plough. It took years of practice, many mistakes, and more than a few acres of ruined crops, but eventually Cinny got the knack for hunting in the dark. It necessitated a bestial instinct and awareness, patience, the reflex to pull a trigger quick and the discipline to make a steady shot. By the time she was teenaged, she was patrolling the farmlands with the rest of the perimeter wardens, fending off whatever strange, snarling things came out of the shadows. Whenever she made a clean kill or earned a new scar, she’d come home to boast about it to Lem.

One day a man came to the farm. He had a fancy ship, but no guns and no crew ready to storm the farm. Lem invited him inside the small estate, and Cinny listened through holes in the floorboards as the two of them discussed, as the man said, “business.” He claimed to have the utmost respect for their family, for what they were doing, said he understood what drove them to protect their land so fiercely. He used a lot of big words to offer empty platitudes and make vague threats. Ultimately, what he did was offer Lem a choice: take a ludicrous amount of money and leave the farm, or face severe consequences. The war was cold, he’d said, but not snuffed. 

Lem politely told the man to leave or he’d shoot him. The man left.

He came back in a mech weeks later, with a dozen small ships at his back. Cinny and the farmhands took up arms and prepared for the worst. Instead, Lem marched right up to the big, iron foot, and demanded the man meet him. To Cinny’s shock, the man did. He came right down in his fancy pilot clothes with a gun at his hip, and he and Lem had long words, too far away for any of them to hear. 

At length the two of them stood apart, Lem just inside the farm’s line, the man just outside of it, with the moon high above them booth. They drew, two gunshots cracked the air. Lem dropped and the man did not. 

Minutes later the farm was put to fire. Some of the farmhands tried to intervene, but were shot down with half the honor and twice the ease as was afforded to Lem. Cinny was dragged away kicking and screaming, screaming so loud she thought she might’ve torn her throat apart trying to deny the reality of what had happened. She screamed and wailed to go back and help Lem, to save the farm, until eventually she was only whimpering, and then, finally, she was silent. 

The next time she opened her mouth was years later, when her school’s counselor came to her, concerned, asking if she really wanted to enroll somewhere like [i]Taiyōtawa Academy[/i] now that she was graduating. 

She said: [color=BBF6FF]“Yep.”[/color][/indent]
[h3]Attributes & Other Information[/h3][hr][sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Coordinator Type[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]PC[/indent]
[sub][color=BBF6FF][b]Coordination Profile[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent][b]Awareness[/b] | ■■■■□
[b]Composure[/b] | ■■□□□
[b]Endurance[/b] | ■■■□□
[b]Instinct[/b] | ■■■■■
[b]Intellect[/b] | ■□□□□
[/indent]