___________________________________ Palmiro Giacobbe, 16 [At Breach] / 18 [At Training Age] ________________________________________________________________________________________ Trainee Corps | Mediterranean | Alberlerst, Between Maria & Rose ___________________________________
▼ E X T R A I N F O R M A T I O N ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► DOB - 828 ► Height - 5'8" / 177cm ► Weight - 148 lbs / 67kg ► Hair Color - Dirty Blonde ► Eye Color - Dark Green ► Branch - 108th Trainee Corps ► Rank - Trainee
D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E
Palmiro is a fair-ish skinned lad, averagely built to adequately fit his chosen lifestyle. His hair is rather unkempt, a combination of loosely dangled hair and floppy top fluff that curls above his scalp. Regardless, it's never styled, or treated in a manner that is his own. It is what it is. Done and dusted, left to its own interests. Beneath those are hazel eyes, with a clean shaven jaw and angular chin. From the neck down there's the leanness that implies his slightly less intimidating strength, at least compared to contemporaries around him. He's paler than those like his mother and uncle, and the meagreness had once been a stale point of inter-family teasing.
His appearance extends the calm, collected look he often shows. The less fore-fronted member of any given collective, he dresses rather averagely, maintains calm and sometimes nurturing expressions and exhumes a general style of ease. As once suggested, Palmiro is and always will be a product of his environment, rather than his own man in his own way. How eagerly the world has shaped him, and will, shall easily reflect in how he dresses himself, and how he carries those hazel eyes; whether with grace, anger, fear or cynicism.
---P E R S O N A L I T Y
Initially, Palmiro is often seen as a grounded, eased source of reliance - a humble and often reserved individual that never makes his presence known than to those that lean on him. Of course, first impressions aren't all there is to see. And whilst it is true that the lad often entranced himself on principles of listening over speaking, beneath all lies that brooding potential - a cynicism or flourishing uplift of optimism. He very much is a product of his environment. With more time spent out of the house, maintained relationships were often hardly kept throughout his childhood days, and that it wasn't until the final few months, before everyone's lives changed, that he opened up. It was a natural transition, though. As though he'd been waiting for a very long time to speak his piece.
Within the confines of work, he is vaguely level-headed. Boisterousness was never his cup of tea, for there were no delusions or concrete proof of his prowess. He was astonishingly ordinary in that remarks. Someone capable, but not that capable. If for any reason the 112th Trainee Corps were to stumble and stagger in quality, so should he. But in the end, that makes him reliable, and almost predictable of what he is capable of. It works in favour of how he finds his role among others. Of course, much of that seems to shave off around the specific few that stretch beyond camaraderie, and towards staunch friendships and onward. Such is seen in his mannerisms around his very own horse.
---B I O G R A P H Y
Palmiro was born in a very unremarkable set of circumstances. His father Pierre strove for a well-sized family but made do with only the one son, for try as they would, the married parents of his could not muster a flock. Legally speaking, his home is Alberlerst - a small farming village located somewhere between Wall Maria and Rose. His memories of home aren't like that of others, where every nook and cranny is known instinctively, through endless childhood exploration. No, Palmiro's family were of a logistical, trading side of life, akin to nomads of ancient time. Not that their were luddites, of course, they were simply travelling merchants, with a quaint, small abode situated in Alberlerst.
Most importantly, his lifestyle had delivered a family-orientated social life, one often devoid of those similar to his age. Once or twice he'd had a childhood sweetheart from a village he'd visit around once or twice, but so soon did they forget him that there never was quite a stuck landing. His early years was dependent on either himself, the horse he cared for, or his mother and father, all modelling his behaviour for the lifestyle they'd settled into. This did create a decent fascination for the sights and expanses of the walls' territories, though rarely did it go past Rose itself. And by the age of eleven, he'd tricked himself into believing he'd seen everything there was to see.
Things changed when Mateo came home, however. His uncle had always been a topic of little discussion. Palmiro's mother, Emma, often held him in high regard as a wonderful addition to the family, and that as her younger brother, he had lived an exemplary life of success once he'd joined the military. Pierre, his father, however had rarely let his name slip into the household. That bitterness, like snake's venom, had initially muddied the well of opinions a young Palmiro had for his uncle, but all those were shattered the days he spent with him.
Household tensions had grown, of course. Arguments became commonplace between Mateo and Pierre, and Palmiro's home life soon became miserable, for no matter how far they walked, with them came the miserable moods shared between them. Pierre left Palmiro at home more instead of taking him on his business ventures. And truthfully, the young boy had become enamoured by his uncle: the Scout. A title so prestigious among untrained ears that he'd almost experienced a newfound paternal love for what Mateo may have been. His stories were often disjointed though, and when pressed on what he was doing home, there was often silence.
Eventually, to make use of Mateo, he was granted additional tradesman roles in the family, and two caravans were set up to cross between the districts. On their second voyage, as Mateo so lovingly called it, he became more open about parts of his service he was less enthusiastic about - such as the titans themselves. They held an almost mythical status to someone like Palmiro, oblivious to their nature than what only common village-folk knew. The idea of them had frightened the much younger boy, yet it was never a story that could prepare him for the future. Unfortunately, their journey became a complicated mess. Several men tagged along their caravan and often spoke to Mateo, clad in military garments. They became sterner and sterner with each passing day. And eventually, things grew far too tense for them to continue the journey. For a temporary few months, with unrequited letters being shared between both his uncle and parents, they stayed at an old military friend of Mateo's, whilst things simmered down. This placed him in the Quinta District of the Western Wall Maria district. And it was a station long enough to await the worst that could happen.
---F A M I L Y
- Pierre Giacobbe - Emma Giacobbe - Mateo Trentino
- Full Name - Adèlyn L. Ziegler DOB - 829 Birthplace - Shiganshina, Wall Maria Branch - 108th Trainee Corps Rank - Trainee -
- Arrogant X
- TBD TBD
Physical Details ◢
Standing at 5’6”, Adè isn’t tall nor short among her friends and comrades, though there are certainly individuals that tower over her; though she’s made it clear that just because they are taller than her doesn’t mean she can’t kick their ass. Adè’s aggressive demeanor translates relatively well to her posture and presence, though at the end of the day she’s just another uppity soldier in a mass of hundreds. Her hair is a natural blonde and her eyes are green. Her physique is unsurprisingly athletic and well-toned, but she’s still a lithe girl with not much of a bust or build, though she is much brawnier than she looks.
Background Information ◢
Adèlyn Ziegler is a brash, pompous, loud-mouthed, and abrasive young woman and her comrades either love her or hate her for it.
Adè’s obsession with being the “best” is the catalyst to a genetic time-bomb of angst, unhappiness, and ire. It’s no secret that Adè has a plethora of issues that makes her difficult to deal with, though she doesn’t much care people find her difficult or frustrating. She wears their discontent like a badge of honor and when she isn’t scowling in discontentment she is smirking smugly as she mocks the person who has gathered her attention. In short, Adè isn’t interested in “making” friends and currently sees her comrades as like-minded acquaintances at best and superficial meat-shields at worst. This disconnect can be seen as cruel and stupid by some, but it has protected Adè from her fickle feelings and insecurities. In part this is a ruse to push people away so that she will never have another emotional connection with another human being; she figures if she can be undesirable she will never be hurt by someone close to her again.
Adèlyn’s father, Aldebert Ziegler, was a member of Shiganshina’s Garrison. He raised Adèlyn effectively as a single parent, though what little Adè remembers of her father is overshadowed by his sudden death when she was eight-years-old.
Having no family to look after her, Adè soon would realize that the walls of an orphanage in Shiganshina was a rough and lonely existence. The paltry meals were lackluster, her fellow orphans were as dejected and disinterested as she was, and the minimally-employed staff were as overworked as they were overpaid. With the fear of the Titans beyond the walls, anxieties were an unending presence of their own. Adè eventually would grow bored and unruly, often sneaking out and stealing food from market stands. One bowl of porridge and stale bread was not enough to sate Adè, so she chose to entertain herself out of her own survival and for her own interest.
With thievery came conflict from other children and, of course, authority figures. Adè was quick on her feet, assuredly, but she soon found herself getting into fights and arguments on a daily basis. When her only friend during her childhood died in a brawl her hope to find friendship and bonds was halted In what seemed like an instant. She still can hear the ‘pop’ from his body falling off a rooftop and onto the streets below in her sleep. It is a constant nightmare that makes her always check her footing and to be careful when it comes to maneuvering. After all, in Shiganshina parkour was one of the few things she was good at other than running and street fighting, that is. Perhaps it was the reason she was scouted by a friend of her father, whom told her she would do well to follow in his shadow once she was old enough.
When the orphanage kicked her out at fifteen, she figured it was the only choice she had. Plus, she wanted it. After all, it wasn't a Titan that killed her father, but another man in the military. She hoped to find out who he was and how to find them. She had never forgotten his face from the bunker of her father's closet.
- Full Name - Charles A. Dujardin DOB - 830 Birthplace - Orvud, Wall Sheena Branch - 108th Trainee Corps Rank - Trainee -
- Bold X
- TBD TBD
Physical Details ◢
With a lean physique and bright blonde hair, Charles is obviously still growing. His mannerisms speak of a noble upbringing, though there seems to be a lack of superiority to those around him. His hair is cut short, though it has been growing unkempt as he has been personally focusing on preparing for the training corps. His eyes are blue, like the sky, and show a sense of hope and idealism that will likely fade under the guise of the grueling and rigid life he has chosen as a military man.
Background Information ◢
Charles Dujardin’s parents, much like Charles himself, was born within Wall Sheena’s Orvud District.
This was not a surprise, considering how prominent the Dujardin’s were within the walls. However, as idyllic as things may have seemed, there was always a layer to peel away when it came to Charles’ parents. By the time he was seven-years-old, the Lord of the Estate, Charles’ father, had managed to have several affairs with various women. It was here that Charles’ in one way or another witnessed how his mother could be as ruthless as his father was licentious; he still hasn't forgotten the screams from the room he wasn't allowed to talk about. It was a miracle that he came out sane in the shadow of two terribly toxic parental figures and a wealth of privilege. Perhaps, a lot of this was due in part to the stories told to him by his maternal grandfather, a man whom inspired Charles at a young age with tales of bravery and honor. The tales of the Garrison Regiment, of which he was once a member.
While these stories were no doubt embellished, it helped guide Charles. As a result, he did his very best to prove he was a charismatic, honorable, and brave person.
When a young girl found employment as a maid servant in the household, Charles took to them in the way he imagined the heroes of the past would. Men with chivalry and patience. Whereas his mother would knock things out of the girl’s hands, he would pick them up without a second’s hesitation. Simple, similar acts would continue for years, and not just for that one servant girl either. Charles found his mother’s behavior questionable and as such continued to be a buffer. It would set the seeds in his mind that he needed to leave as soon as he was able to become a great hero like his grandfather before him. However noble this goal would be, he would in time learn that he was misguided in more than a few ways.
The Trainee Corps was a lot different than he imagined it to be.
Appearance Tanner isn't exactly what you would call a "stand out".
Topping out at five foot six and weighing just slightly less than other females her age largely a result of being stuck with a thin, lithe frame, Tanner is undoubtedly average. She doesn't have any identifying blemishes, leaving her skin undeniably clear. Her hair and eyes are almost the same color spot-on, both being shades of hazel-like light brown. Even her clothing is often standardized, comprised of cheap, inexpensive yet sturdy basic garb commonly seen in the outer districts. Truly, were it not for Tanner's insistence to keep her hair cut almost boyishly, she could probably blend into a crowd of people and essentially disappear to the untrained eye.
Personality It isn't unusual for Tanner to be seen "detached" from the world at hand.
Driven by the need to find the woman she has been searching for, Tanner has made a habit of only interacting with people who likely have information that could help her. Otherwise, Tanner is a girl of few words, as if she was giving someone the cold shoulder. Even to the few "companions" she has, her reactions are robotic, deadpan and unemotional. Many potential friends have left disgusted because of her attitude, although Tanner seems clueless as to why others might want nothing to do with her. Nonetheless, it doesn't take Tanner long to get over a missed connection—the only thing that truly matters is finding that woman.
Biography A native of Wall Maria's Quinta District, Tanner had been expected to take over the family bookstore from her mercantile parents.
Unbeknownst to Tanner, her family had been shrouded in great mystery that she seemed destined to unravel. House walls dotted with family portraits plus one unknown individual. Old letters to a woman Tanner struggled to remember. Dodged questions and half-truths from her parents. Such clues and links as these ate at Tanner, gnawing away at her thoughts and soul.
Who was this woman? Why could she not recall her name? What relation did she have to Tanner? She needed to know, even if her parents didn't want her to.
Dotting down what little information she had into an old journal, Tanner set out to find the truth about the woman that constantly racked her thoughts. Whilst most leads amounted to nothing, her investigative inquires being returned by the locals with the same avoidance her parents had, the real clue had been in front of Tanner all along. The green cloak in the portrait; the mention of the Survey Corps in the letters her parents stashed away. Clearly, whoever this woman was, she had something to do with the Scouts.
Despite being closer to her goal, however, Tanner had ran into a road block. While it was obvious that the woman had, or was, a Scout, she struggled to find someone in the Scouting Legion that had known her, forcing Tanner to rethink her next action. Deliberating the issue for several days, it wasn't long before Tanner realized what she had to do—if she wanted to find this woman, she would have to follow in her footsteps, joining the Survey Corps.
Of course, Tanner knew full well that her parents would object. The Scouts always came back heavily bloodied and battered, and there had been talk of disbandment, so who in their right mind would let their "only" child join the military, even more so if they were seeking to join the Scouts, rather than the Military Police or even the Garrison? One surely had to be insane to agree to such a thing.
And so, under the cover of an early morning, Tanner turned her back on the family bookstore, seeking a recruiter to fulfill the destiny she had set herself on.
"It's not cowardice to run and see tomorrow. It's cowardice to give up all the days, weeks, and years that would have been ahead of you."
N A M E ⋮ Stian Jørgensen A G E ⋮ 3 May 830 (14 at Breach | 16 at Beginning of Training | 19 at the End) G E N D E R ⋮ Male S E X U A L I T Y ⋮ E T H N I C I T Y ⋮ Scandinavian H E I G H T ⋮ 6'1" B R A N C H ⋮ 108th Trainee Corps
A F F I L I A T I O N S / R E L A T I O N S H I P S ⋮
A P P E A R A N C E A P P E A R A N C E
It's fair to say that Stian is built like a brick shithouse. While there aren't many tell-tell signs that he'll get any taller, the musculature on him will probably get more sturdy. He's like a pillar made of flesh and bones, meant to prop up something far grander, but it would tumble without his help. He has dusty blond hair that is kept short on the sides, but unkempt on the top. His eyes are gray, not like a storm, but like a dull fog that has never seen the sun long enough to dissipate it. His skin is tanned and burned in some places, but not as much as one would think for someone that spent most of their time outside. Most notable is the scar on his chin, which looks less like it was from an accident and more like someone put a hot iron on him. He rubs it when he's lost in thought.
Stian looks perpetually bored. He also chews on toothpicks incessantly. In his off hours, he's dressed in clothes that would best fit a stablehand. Rough-hewn button-up blouses that fight against the square of his shoulder and lead into loose trousers cuffed by worn, but sturdy, black boots. This is complemented by leather straps that are made to both keep his pants securely fastened to his waist and hold a few tools. He usually has a pair of worn gloves in his back pocket. When given a uniform to wear, he'll not add any personal accouterments. He's fine with keeping it as uninteresting as possible.
P E R S O N A L I T Y P E R S O N A L I T Y
Stian is boring, uninteresting, laughably bland, and above all, he reflects that back at everyone else. There's nothing spectacular about the way he acts or reacts. The only thing that he shows the slightest bit of interest in is food, but then again the past year has been rough. So, the normality of food and a roof over one's head can bring delight to any stale pool. The only time he shows an abundance of personality is when he says things under his breath. Whether they be humorous, crass, snide, or kind in nature is a roll of the dice, but he doesn't make his opinion loudly known. A person would assume he was asleep if it wasn't for the fact that he was upright, with eyes open and blinking. And even then... you have to wonder.
He's not too different a beast when he is working. Except he becomes even quieter but this is more from concentration than having nothing to say. He's not quick to anger. Nor is he quick to give up. Instead, he'll try and try again until his muscles are too sore to continue. Much like a horse, he can be run to death if spurned on. Also like a horse, he enjoys apples.
B I O G R A P H Y B I O G R A P H Y
Stian grew up in the small town of Görlitz within Wall Maria. There his family raised livestock, mostly cows and some sheep, along with chickens. They also bred horses for the army as a way to earn some extra money. It became a fixture of Lars' pastime, as he was obsessed with breeding diagrams and other academia. It was fair to say that Lars was like a square peg in the round hole of this household. He was always buried in a book between working, much to his husband's chagrin. Aksel was a lot more straightforward and did the heavy lifting around the farm. He also broke the horses, Lars having been kicked once and that being the end of that.
Despite Stian's disposition, he's intelligent enough to know that he's not the biological son of his two fathers. Though, loose lips have taught him that he might have been Aksel's son or maybe Aksel's sister's son. That didn't stop Stian from viewing Aksel and Lars as his parents, though. They'd spend days working, nights having dinner, chatting over clean-up, and Aksel would take the children to stargaze while Lars read behind closed doors.
It was during one of those stargazing sessions that Aksel explained how to navigate by them. When pressed about how he knew that by Anneli, he said it was from another life. She then asked if she could touch the stars. Stian laughed. He did that a lot then. Aksel said, "if you can find the tallest tree. You can." So, Anneli made it her mission to locate said tree and to bring a star down to show them. When she got a little older, she didn't back down from that stance. She changed her reason, though. She just wanted to see the world beyond the walls. Stian had to admit, that was a nice idea. So, he made an agreement with her that when they were older, they'd take a trip within the Wall Maria to find the largest tree. To see what the world outside the walls looked like. Stian had a feeling that they would never find one, but it made Anneli happy.
Lars traveled to Quinta District occasionally to sell livestock, eggs, hide, and various other supplies. He'd also visit his family there. The past few years he'd taken Anneli, as she was very curious about what life was like outside of the small farm life they had. Stian was more than happy to stay back and help his other dad with the horses. Stian had gotten one of the younger mares to listen to him and was able to get her to tolerate him on her back. He was doing a bit of training with her when the sound of an explosion caught him off guard. The mare bucked and sent Stian into the ground. He twisted his ankle trying to land and not be caught underhoof. Aksel found him and tended to it the best he could. This was more Lars' forte.
Sometime later, one of the townspeople came to Aksel and told him what happened, encouraging him to flee with them. In a panic, Aksel grabbed the best horse in their stable along with two others and saddled them up. He was not going to flee to Wall Rose, though. Instead, he had gotten ready to head to Shiganshina District. He hoisted Stian on another horse and fastened a couple of saddlebags to the side. Aksel told him to head to Wall Rose because, with his twisted ankle, he'd only be a hindrance in the rescue mission. He also gave him the name and address of a stablemaster Aksel knew well and sold horses to, and that they would rendezvous there. "Be brave, Son," he said as he swatted Stian's horse and rode off in the opposite direction.
A year later, Stian's injury was healed. He worked for the stablemaster, handling the harder jobs and sleeping in the loft above the hay. It dripped on him during rain, freckled him with sunlight during the summer, and allowed for the most chill of breezes to invade his bones during the winter. The saddlebags held the basics of survival along with a few things that were personal. He'd eaten the rations in the days after the catastrophic event, gone through the clothes he had taken with him, mended the ones that had gotten holes in them, and sold off the horse to not be entirely destitute. He'd read a few books that were in there. They were beyond him as all of them were Lars'. Stian did appreciate reading all his notes in the margins, though. There was a folded, accordion-style oval picture frame with portraits of all four of them within it. Yet, there was one thing amongst it all that made no sense to Stian. It was a patch. It took him a while to find out what it was. He hadn't grown up in the city and barely seen any of the military forces. They were a nebulous force only spoken about briefly by his parents before they'd move on to other things. And the ones that he had seen had roses on their patches. This one was different. After some probing, he discovered it was a patch of the Survey Corps. On the back, in old ink, was written one word: coward. That being the only thread to his family he had left, he decided to join the Trainee Corps. It would take two years for him to finally work up the nerve to leave the rendezvous point. In the end, it was better than waiting on a family that would never come.
October 27th, 13 Years at Breach, 15 Beginning of Training, 18 when Full-Fledged.
Since there are different sources claiming the name Bellows to be English, Irish, AND French, I'm guessing it's seen all three at some point, spread far and wide by alot of travel.
Starting at 5'2" at Age 13, and reaching 5'8", later on.
The first thing to note about Kate is that her physique is that of a lean, wiry, and swift teenager that has seen years of running, jumping, and climbing for recreational purposes. (More about this in her Personality and Biography.) While she is not heavily strong, she has balance and coordination down to an art from years of trial and error until success was achieved. The cuts and scrapes and bruises are a minor setback to being able to take a flying leap and expect to reach your destination on a regular basis. So, she can be nimble and very agile, which was one of the reasons she escaped ahead of others who did not.
She is a Caucasian with dark brown hair to around her neck, and eyes that nearly match. Often, there is either an inquisitive look about her when focused, or a faraway look in her eyes when she's thinking. It's in her nature to be quietly observant. Not much attention goes into her looks, except to try and keep herself clean, and her hair not in a tangled mess. Katherine tends to wear a normal pants and shirt - maybe shorts - with her only criteria being that they don't stand out too much. Her shoes will be practical and often have that used look about them. Belts often used in order to keep certain items on her at all times. Her uniform is just clothing with additional steps to her. It's to be worn, and the straps are useful, but she might actually forget she's wearing it, sometimes.
One item of important note is that Kate is often seen writing or drawing in a diary. It is compact, leather-bound, bulging a bit from added pages, with space made to fit a pencil in the spine, and a strap to keep it on one's belt. Any attempts to grab it or even touch it lead to her slipping out of reach or physically stopping you, sometimes with force. Anyone peeking over her shoulder might see complex diagrams and measurements intermixed with her writing. There is WORK contained in this thing, obsessive work.
It's really hard to tell, sometimes, where ordinary Kate and all-business Kate begins and ends, because they bleed into one another. For those that know anything about her in the past, she could be seen as this free spirit who ran and climbed unfettered throughout town with no apparent focus in her life, EXCEPT that she did all of this and the note-taking as a form of escapism. She took her mind off of the hook to keep herself from self-examination and revisiting the darker aspect of her life. Kate is socially withdrawn, not engaging with too many people, except on her own terms, because there is a deep-seated trauma that keeps herself at arm's length from others. Trust doesn't come easily, and the reason for this (explained more in History) is that there is a small part of her that views others as a threat.
She knows that the monsters outside - the Titans - aren't the only ones in the world. Some come in human size, and if they can happen that close to home, then anyone can be one. So, she didn't just run and jump and hide and fight because she thought it was fun. She did so to prepare for the next one who'd assault her like her father did. Because, in alot of ways, Katherine takes after her mother, who is eccenctric and prone to violence when properly motivated. It may be that Kate was pushed to grow in this manner a little too early, but unfortunately it couldn't be avoided. So, she is obsessed with details and trying to make sense of the world from her own perspective, feeling free now that her father is dead, but trapped because she can never be safe again.
Taking her mind off of the hook is how Kate takes a break from herself, to essentially stop thinking about anything too intense. She can laugh and enjoy things like others do, but she's not incredibly good at it. Not nervous, but can be very offbeat. She is strange, with a wild glint in her eye, sometimes, or a stare that seems to burrow holes right through you. If at any time, she can be described as having a more normal reaction, something might be up, especially since the reason there is no stated preference in her social life is because she never really gave it any thought. And recently, her obsessions have (understandably) turned to the Titans, for they are monsters of a different kind. Why do they do what they do? It doesn't make any sense...and trying to make sense of things is what she does, and that is why there are a number of ideas in her head about how to better exterminate them...and in that diary.
Beginning at the 108th Trainee Corps.
It began, as all things do, with her parents.
Even while the Titans were at bay, and the standing guard has little to do but wait for a conflict that does not come, innovation and creation continues. Things have to be built, that which exists must be improved, and that which is outdated must be torn down and replaced with the new. Even while there exists an uneasy peace, there are those that forever remain in motion and continue to act unabated by the relative calm. Such was the case for a Myra Asterov, an eccentric who looked upon the status quo and scoffed quite loudly. She had a gift for detail and improvement in all things built and made, molded and mechanical. She was among those who fought against religion to place a rail system on top of the walls for the cannons, and she would go on do other things - cannon improvement, plumbing improvement, lock improvement - as her voice became more and more heard.
There exists a kind of person in the world who cannot live without rendering change, because they can see vast improvement in whatever's in front of them. It was this kind of intellect and energetic fervor that originally captured the attention of Jonathan Bellows, a town craftsman and honest worker. Swept up by Myra's behavior, he found himself intrigued by her curious bluntness of behavior which was sometimes silly, other times intensely focused. This led to some good times, and even marriage, but unfortunately...these things were not set to last. Parents can tell you that raising a kid is hard, and that some people are not ready for it. Jonathan wasn't ready, and this - plus Myra often correcting him on things - led to a downward spiral of drinking too much, getting belligerant, becoming angry as Myra's work began to overshadow his own profession and any importance therein, and finally...it happened.
When Katherine was a child, she was attacked by what she could only describe as a monster. She had lived a fairly pleasant life until then, but suddenly there was a monster beating her, and the thing wore her father's face. The trauma of her father attacking her caused her to withdraw into herself, closing up shop, so to speak. Myra, seeing this, took what she deemed the only logical reaction: She impaled Jonathan with a pipe from work, and pulled Katherine away from him. A trial was heard, but between her account of what had happened and Katherine's stunned and mute condition, they had to conclude that Jonathan had lost it, and the death was justified. For Katherine, therapy began, and eventually someone brought her back to reality, though she was irrecoverably changed. At first, she flinched from people and hid from sight in all places that she could get out of reach. Then, the exercises began.
The town doctor considered it healthy, and that if Kate wanted to make herself a stronger person, they should allow it in order to get her confidence back. It worked...kind of. She still had trouble connecting with folks, but there was at least an effort made. Myra actually saw some of herself in this, and encouraged Kate to take notes of things, study them, and learn. She did so, dilligently, but also had other things to draw from, like...she hated town gangs. From her vantage points, she'd attack them, sometimes. Was it lashing out, or actually saving others from what she'd had to go through? Katherine didn't explain. She took an interest in a number of things, like the equipment used by the guards or the make of a particular building. Even the walls themselves got her attention. It got her thinking about an idea, a special design... Kate would be working on these things and her own self-improvement, right up until the point in which the Titans came...and she lost her other parent.
It's hard to know what goes through her head, these days. Wild masses of thoughts threaten to pull her in, raw emotions beckon her to act out, and people's expectations of her try to pull her apart at the seams.
Affiliations / Relationships
Jonathan Bellows - Biological Father (Deceased) Myra Bellows - Biological Mother (Deceased)
"It doesn't matter what the expected result is; we must snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, or it will amount to nothing."
Fifteen, (December 12th, 831)
Tall, slim, and expected to grow into a man of pure muscle, Gabriel's training underneath his father and his time in a gang has developed him into a resilient youth, able to push his body close to it's limit before collapsing. On his cheek is a small scar, after he had taken a hit for a friend.
Gabriel can be considered by most to be a level-headed person, often using rational thought with a cold and calculating approach to solve his problems. While this may be mostly true, Gabriel has tendencies to break this state during times of major stress and whilst under pressure that normally goes beyond what he is used to in comparison to his early life experiences as a hoodlum. His time in a young boys' gang has led him to more brawls than he can count, which in turn developed him to hold scorn towards fights that don't lead anywhere or have no greater purpose, especially ones that involve a friend or loved one. On top of this, his short time with his father, and his eventual death, spurs Gabriel towards the future with an 'absolute victory' outlook on life; no matter what the result may be, he charges forward in the belief that success only truly matters when one snatches it from the jaws of defeat. Despite this rough up-bringing, his mother's intervention changed Gabriel into a compassionate and soft individual towards others, which was most evident when he took a blow for a former gang member, leading to permanent scarring on his cheek.
108thth Trainee Corps
The life of a young boy growing up under the shadow of a military success was expected to be one of hard work and seeking approval. That was certainly the case for Gabriel, who struggled to keep up with his father's legacy, in both a physical and mental manner. His father expected only the upmost commitment from his healthy and eldest son. Many of the children in Shiganshina avoided him, due to the time he spent trying to perfect himself, rather than play or take part in their games. However, his world came crashing down and spiraled out of control when his father was killed in action. The young Gabriel struggled soon after, having lost the one person in his life that he sought approval from. He resorted to thrill-seeking, provoking the guards within Shiganshina by joining small gangs filled with troubled boys like himself, and earned a reputation for causing small instances of mayhem, such as disturbing the peace and theft.
Gabriel's mother, a cripple bound to a makeshift wheelchair, became increasingly worried by his behavior soon after his father's death. She knew that his lifestyle even before the tragedy was unhealthy for a boy his age and always sought to comfort the boy. When a particularly brutal scuffle broke out with Adèlyn Ziegler, Gabriel was knocked down by her after a lengthy brawl; she had earned a great deal of respect from the boy. One of the members, who had been insulted by Adèlyn before, took the loss of Gabriel personally, and attempted to attack her with a knife. The boy, having gotten to his feet, stepped in the take the blow, having accepted the loss with more dignity then his 'kin'. Unfortunately, his own gang abandoned him after the fight, believing him to have taken to favoritism to those outside of their circle, leaving him with a bleeding scar on his cheek. After returning home a beaten mess, his mother scolded him, and for the first time ever was able to reach through to the youth, who had finally poured out his true feelings; for once after his father's death, both mother and son embraced. Life afterwards improved, and Gabriel found himself working for the betterment of his community via delivering mail. Although his tarnished reputation in Shiganshina is a well known problem for Gabriel, some have begun to open up to him once more after taking notice of his efforts to turn his life around. Some rumors have even spread of him looking towards a military career...
Affiliations / Relationships
For most of Gabriel's childhood, Philippe took special interest in developing his son into a future warrior in service to Paradis, The Walls, and all it's territories. As a reputable and successful Captain in the Military Police, much of his free time was either spent training Gabriel or seeing his wife while the children were asleep. For unknown reasons, he never took his family with him to Wall Sina whenever he was on his long periods of duty. Despite his lack of time in Gabriel's life, the boy looked up to him with wonder and idolatry; Philippe, however, only saw him as a way to continue his legacy.
Although a cripple, Isabelle never let that stop her from taking care of her children. At first, the relationship between she and Gabriel was strained from his constant law breaking and dismissive attitude towards her pleas, but it ultimately changed when Gabriel came home in a battered state. Since then, Gabriel took special care in her and his three younger siblings.
Gabriel's younger brother and second in line. Not much is known of their relationship.
Gabriel's younger brother and third in line. Not much is known of their relationship.
Gabriel's youngest brother and fourth in line. Not much is known of their relationship.
An acquaintance of Gabriel's, who visited Shiganshina. Both shared a desire to enlist and bonded over a short time with their dreams and desires to become a part of the military.
An acquaintance of Gabriel's, who he had a troubled start with; due to their similar background in thievery and petty crimes, the two butted heads from time to time. Gabriel acquired his scar when she beat him in a fair fight after attempting to stop a fellow member of his gang from cutting her.
Appearance Sorcha is one to, although unnoted by her, stick out in a crowd. This is most typically due to the lengthy, pyric-orange hair that falls down to just meet her hip. Said hair frames her face and torso lightly, seemingly cared for but not kept prim. A warm head of hair matches the warm fairness of her skin, and directly contrasts the cool, deep-carmine shade of her expressive eyes.
Aside from the vanities of her appearance, she possesses a physique that one would likely deem fit for a member of humanity's military. She stands at about 5'8" and weighs a little more than other girls of her height and age - this owing to the toned, athletic musculature of her otherwise slender frame.
Despite an appearance that might draw a glance or two, Sorcha is seemingly impartial to any form of fashion or alteration of her image. She prefers to dress for function over anything else, usually tending to wear duller colors such as black, brown, gray, or green - when not in uniform, that is.
Personality Sorcha is, all in all, a seemingly unburdened individual. A lighthearted disposition is what most would see when they look at her - and that's generally what she possesses. She's carefree, nonchalant, and overall most agreeable. She is a naturally curious individual, and doesn't try to hide it, or her penchant for enabling hijinks of any variety. She is a snarky and teasing sort as well, especially to those who would wreck an otherwise grand bit of fun. One would be forgiven for thinking she rarely takes things seriously - but she most definitely has her moments -- and in those moments.. she almost seems to become someone else.
Biography Sorcha was born to a seemingly unremarkable family. As far back as she can remember, her father has been the only one who she has ever relied on, as her mother passed at her birth. No siblings, uncles or aunts, grandparents, or any other family ties were known to her. Yet, despite this familial loneliness, her father enjoyed nothing more than retailing the deeds their family had done over the years in service to the people between Wall Rose and Maria - which is where the father-daughter duo reside.
His tales spoke of how each and every member of their family that there had ever been, as far as one can recall, has served dutifully within the Survey Corps. Their battle against the titans, as a family, would never wane. Others may have found some semblance of peace inside the walls - or at least a form of distraction - but the titans had always been a part of the Argue family's lives. Always. Such tales reached the young girl, as her father might've hoped they would, but she found herself conflicted with them. On one hand, she found it so cool, so brave that their family would make such a sacrifice to protect the people -- but in the other hand, she was scared. A part of her was terrified that she would have to take on the burden of fighting the titans, like every Argue before her.
But she would never reveal such a weakness, of course. She learned that from her father, too.
Being as alone as she was, with her father as busy as he was, Sorcha was left mostly directionless in her young life. She was somewhat of a loner, stemming from the fact that she really only had her father at home to interact with. She had no real goals or aspirations growing up, but always had the shadow of an impending promise to military servitude lingering over her head. Even so, with no direction she mostly.. wandered. She eventually grew accustomed to meeting new people in her explorations about Walls Maria and Rose - but she never grew out of her ability to thole isolation, and she, honestly, preferred it at times, despite her increasingly upbeat personality - which served to drown out her inner worries.
And that, all in all, is how she has lived her life up until she turned 16. At this age, her father finally doubles down with pressuring her into enlisting - and only time will tell how she will fare in her family's footsteps.
This is what I could finish before PDN crashed and my stupid ass forgot to save the file.
Name Kai Falkner
Age 19 (Currently)
Height 5'9" / 175 cm
Personality The forte he's most proud of, Kai is always an advocate for being a hard worker - when he's not the one doing the work. Since he was a child, Kai has tried to weasel his way out of anything that needs doing, either putting it off for later or getting someone else to do the job for him, and after years of practice, Kai is very deft at charming or excusing his way out of things. If you believe that this in any way deters him from bragging about his accomplishments, you'd be wrong; Kai will be the first to remind you about, "how he was the one who did it last time".
Kai began smoking at the age of seven and drinking at the age of thirteen. Those who know him well enough (for better or for worse) likewise know that you can typically goad him into doing something in exchange for a smoke.
To his credit, Kai isn't without altruism or value for labour. When a task is pressing or a friend is in need, Kai is willing (but not eager) to lend a helping hand. He does, however, live by the mantra that, "He helps those who help themselves", and tends to prioritize that his own needs are met before others. If one so desires, Kai will also be sure to bequeath some of his wisdom" on others, offering advice on getting "in the know".
Branch Trainee Corps
Biography Born the middle child of poor farmers on the outskirts of the walls, not much was expected to come from Kai in earnest. From the moment he was born, it was assumed that he would take up the generational life of agrarianism, working, living, and ultimately dying before passing on the torch to his children - potatoes, beats, cabbage, rye, and the real money-maker, tobacco. He'd do it all on the same plot of land that his family had for generations. The youngest of the lot was an infirm little girl, a tad too small and a touch to frail to walk for long. Kai and his older brother would be relegated to doing most of the farmhand's labour.
Kai learned early to always take shortcuts with work. If there was a means to get something and get it quicker, he'd learn it inside, outside, upside, downside. Kai got out of tilling, turning, harvesting, pulping, rolling, planting, you name it, he got his older brother or one of the other farmhands to do it. The only thing he would always do without any ifs or buts was go out to the market. He'd always sell whole bushels and come back with beer casks full of salt and spice and the coffers still most of the way full. His mother never knew how he did it. His dad would always say he'd find out and that he knew Kai was always up to no good, and on the day he found out he'd tan Kai's hide so bad the markets would use his ass for sheepskin parchment. He could never prove it. Life was good.
It was, until the breach.
The day the walls came down was the day that the Falkners may as well have taken a torch to their furnace and burned the whole fields themselves: Because before they could take the initiative, a good neighbour to their south in between fits of screaming panic lit their good iron sconces and tossed them into the Falkner Fields.
It was for their own good, of course. The titans never made it to the house, but just beyond the charcoal clouds and a sea of fire, Kai and his siblings watched from their porch: A hundred giant, deformed giants, picking up people like they were bushels of grain and eating them whole. His mother didn't come out; She just sat near their fireplace and cried the whole time, praying frantically it'd all go away, a bad dream she needed to wake up from. Dad sat in his rocking chair the whole time, plugging away jar after jar of rye whiskey as he waited for the end to come when it did. He wasn't in any rush.
And by the time of the end, the Falkners walked out onto their decrepit farm, their neighbours huddled still in the basement, and - exhausted - took inventory... No more grain, no more tobacco, no more maize or turnips or chickens or rye. Gone, all gone. Just char-black charcoal fields and the rest of the grain trampled and uprooted by giant footsteps.
Even the recovery would be brutal for the family. What was left of the good soil was maybe a third of what they'd usually have had, and the rest of it would take too long to recover from the burns. A year, two years maybe, they'd guessed. They went all in on the tobacco crop, and they paid for it. Bad harvest that year. Spring was drier than usual and the summer was too cloudy.
It was then that Kai - and everyone else of the Falkners - knew there wasn't any more future here in agriculture. Mum and dad would try to His older brother would go on working for some factory job doing furniture and woodwork, and Kai would go onto the army. His youngest sister, God would look out for for. Always did.
When Kai was enlisting, he neither knew the divisions of any of the armed branches nor paid any mind - to him, soldiering was soldiering and looking good with swords and a gear was probably better money than he'd get in a lifetime of cutting up tobacco and grain in the hot sun for a loaf of bread a day. And when the bureau-men would beat around the bush and ask all sorts of questions about how well he could read and if he'd ever broken bones or whatnot, Kai would dismiss all that drivel and tell them to "just sign him up for the damn infantry".