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This sucked.

Ezmy entered the mess hall just in time to hear captain Voltus say they were going to ferry the survivors to Mars. A forgone conclusion, but nevertheless, the thought of sharing what little, cramped space the Cathartes had with a bunch of weepy, paranoid space-mailmen did not, to put it mildly, excite her. More bodies to clog the narrow halls, more mouths to suck up all the air. There were already enough morons onboard as it was.

And they were drinking the coffee, too. Great.

“Move,” she muttered, as she made her way to the long counter towards the back of the mess. Most of the survivors hardly registered her, even when she pushed past them; she was below their eyeline and wasn’t exactly built to bowl people over. Still, a few indignant snorts and distasteful grumbles lingered behind her, something she wouldn’t have taken so quietly if she weren’t dead-tired.

“…Your scrap is worth enough.”

A smirk tugged at Ezmy’s lips as she swiped a mug from the table. What Voltus suggested would have sounded almost like charity to the stragglers, but she knew better. Was what he was doing nice? Sure. But people did nice things all the time—when there was something in it for them. This was just business, plain and simple, and their geriatric captain was nothing if not a good businessman. Most of the crew owed him in some way or another, that was how you earned a bed on the Cathartes.

That or nepotism, she thought, and scanned the crowd briefly for the younger, dumber Voltus.

Ezmy brought her mug to the jittery old coffee machine, shouldering past another clot of survivors, and filled it right to the brim. They had a bit of a journey ahead of them to Mars, and she wasn’t sure there’d be enough for a ship actually full of people. That done, she hopped up to sit on one of the tables and listened to whatever else Voltus had to say, or whatever woes the people would throw at him. Someone would probably try to leverage their misfortune for recovered items. Hah. Good luck with that.

Disker dipped out quietly, which wasn’t a surprise. The man was usually reserved to a degree that even Ezmy found frustrating. He was a thinker, she didn’t like thinkers. She didn’t like anyone, really, but especially not thinkers.

Gaida dismissed herself as well, though she did it like a soldier—asking permission even if she didn’t actually want it. She was a bit like Disker; she was a thinker, too. Thinker and soldier. Blegh.

There wasn’t much for her in the mess, but she stayed anyway. She could have passed time rifling through the scrap, or finding one of the few quiet, secluded places onboard that would very soon no longer be either, but she didn’t want to. Being alone was boring as fuck, and there were people here. They were miserable, and disgusting, and they probably wouldn’t shut up about their bad luck as long as it took them to get to Mars, but fine, whatever.

At least it was company.


_______________________________________________


Physical Description
Ezmy is a built like a spike; short, narrow, deceptively sturdy. Spotty diets haven’t left her with much to build muscle on, but old exercise habits have at least kept her from wasting away. She wears what she can get her hands on, which usually means clothes that are baggy and too big for her, but which are at least insulated to handle the Cathartes’ occasional temperature tantrums.

Her hair is kept short out of reflex, and her eyes are a dim, earthy brown. Her boney skin burns easily and often, and the multitude of scars left over from childhood experimentation crawl across her arms and spine and up her neck.

She’s gone out of her way to rip out and stitch over the identifying Zeon crests of her mobile suit gear. The colors still disgust her, but there’s an odd, familiar comfort to the suit that’s kept her from tossing it in the airlock.

Character Conceptualization
Ezmy is Neo Zeon war-chaff brought up in the wake of one loss, and discarded on the eve of another. While initially a promising prospect due to how responsive she was to experimentation, her volatile personality and growing disdain for authority ultimately led to her dismissal after only a brief tour in conflict. Her home, which had so greedily sought her out, was now embarrassed by her, and at the age of eighteen she found herself living the life of a disgraced nomad.

Neo Zeon coaxed the aptitude for violence out of her, and used it to feed her craving for conflict. Now, with the second war behind, Ezmy drifts listlessly in secret, desperate search of anything even resembling purpose. Time alone has awakened a new hunger within her as well, one for companionship. The feeling confuses her, disgusts her, and she does not know how to feed it, nor can she bring herself to ignore it.

Mobile Weapon Description
After her dismissal from Neo Zeon, Ezmy came into possession of a seized Federation relic, a nearly two-decade old GM Striker, and was sent on her way.

The thing was hardly functional and took some time to adjust to, and the irony of having to pilot old Federation tech was not lost on her. While outdated in nearly every way, its close-range leanings were at least familiar to her. Passably mobile, with head-mounted vulcan cannons for minor cover, and a twin beam spear, which can be detached into two sabers, what the Striker lacks in range and defense it…well, it doesn’t really make up for it, but it does well enough up close.

Location: Mystic Prophecy Chapterhouse -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria



Beautiful. Oh, it was just beautiful.

Sure, the both of them were fumbling a bit—Kazuki looked back her once like a boy taking his first steps into school, and Graves had put a hand on his shoulder with all the naturality of a statue—but there was no such thing as a perfect reconciliation. The two of them had, in their own ways, come to terms with each other for the sakes of others; imperfections and all, that was beautiful. She’d have cried if she could still do that. Seele made a note to herself to pick up an extra pastry for Graves as well.

The conversation changed with…admirable grace, all things considered, and Seele shot Rael a look of grateful pride, as well as a subtle two-thumbs-up. The girl had done a good job reining Graves back from whatever brink he had nearly stormed off of. No doubt they had her to thank that he was still in Thorinn at all. Her little dilemma in the tavern still unsettled Seele a bit, but that was another matter for another time. For now, they were here, and they were…well, she supposed if the consensus pushed against calling them all “friends” then she would settle for saying that they were all at least a “team” again. That was something.

Graves addressed the both of them, and so it seemed appropriate enough to join the conversation. She wished she could have come in with something better, to lighten the mood or at least help the easing tension. Unfortunately, he’d chosen a topic that was sore for all parties involved. She was still immensely proud of Kazuki for coming here despite…circumstances, and he’d certainly shown himself capable of keeping himself composed, but expecting him to hold a conversation about Luci on his own on top of everything else seemed borderline cruel.

“We did,” Seele said, stepping up politely beside Kazuki. “She…well, no. No, she didn’t. She’s grieving, I believe it’s best that we let her. What you’re doing is lovely, though. I’m sure Mystic Prophecy appreciates the helping hand. I have a feeling those are going to be in high demand soon.”

“But anyway, I don’t suppose either of you saw Benkei on your way here? Kazuki is certain he’ll be fine—and I mean, I believe him of course. I’m sure he’ll end up at the tavern with the rest of us, just, I thought it might be helpful to keep track of everyone.”




*Enthusiastic finger guns*
Cinny, to her copilot.

Personal Dossier

Name
Cincinna "Cinny" Siloux

Age
18

Gender
Female

Origin
Mālum, Teegarden System

Appearance
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.

Personality
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.

Background Information
Cincinna was born on Mālum, and was eight years old when she discovered from her brother, Ptolemy, that its full name was Mālum floresco in umbra, “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 Taiyōtawa Academy now that she was graduating.

She said: “Yep.”

Attributes & Other Information

Coordinator Type
PC

Coordination Profile
Awareness | ■■■■□
Composure | ■■□□□
Endurance | ■■■□□
Instinct | ■■■■■
Intellect | ■□□□□


Gonna drop my interest in here too!

Location: City Streets -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria



Seele couldn’t help but gape a bit as Kazuki explained his situation. Some of it was predictable enough; she’d have wagered he was Queon, though she might have also guessed Sikth a day ago. But to own houses all over Aetheria? That had to have been some sort of feat. Not that she would have known, she’d been playing the part of a drifter the whole time she’d been playing Pariah. Perhaps Kazuki had simply applied himself to the project, he certainly seemed to be diligent enough.

He mentioned Benkei again. He seemed to know a lot about their tank, and now she was hearing that they’d played together often, to the point that Benkei had Kazuki at his beck and call. She couldn’t imagine Kazuki waiting on most anyone like that. He’d even mentioned a friend.

Before she could ask about it though, he pushed the subject back to her. Hm. Tricky. She was eager to learn more about her group, but for the moment, she thought it best to lean into whatever direction Kazuki steered their conversation. So, she stored those questions away for later.

Their pace wasn’t exceptionally fast—she hadn’t expected them to exactly sprint to Mystic Prophecy—so she didn’t feel too guilty about taking her time to answer.

“Oh, Drox. I know, huge surprise right? A support in the support pathos, how scandalous! It’s nice, though. I was really into the pathos stuff when I first started. Did a bunch of reading up on all the lore, took a peek at some of the quests and region-specific areas. Thorinn was—is, I mean—really just beautiful, but so are all of the other places in their own ways. Almost went Tyhrien, if I’m being honest.”

She twirled her parasol, considering for a moment what Kazuki had suggested about weaponizing it. She wouldn’t—though the idea of enhancing it into a backup focus was appealing for sure. Seele made a point not to carry weapons with her, it was part of the reason she hadn’t gone Tyhrien. “It is the duty of the hero to protect the helpless,” sounded very nice on paper, but in practice she’d found the Tyhrien brand of protection often involved violence against the aggressors, which she simply wasn’t cut out for. And besides that, the longer she’d played, the more she realized the moniker “hero” didn’t apply to her. Seele didn’t want to be a hero, she wanted to be there for the people who did.

“Drox fit better,” she said with a shrug. “And, you know it seems kind of silly to say, but I actually really sort of respected Erianda. All of the pathos leaders are compelling characters, I mean I thought the same thing about Itrius, but, I dunno, something about Erianda just drew me in. Made the decision easier.”

Soon enough they came upon Mystic Prophecy’s guildhall, which was surprisingly modest-looking for such a well-renowned group. Seele breezed up to the doors, only to hesitate. She turned back to Kazuki, donning sympathy once again in her smile.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she said again. “I’m really proud of you. No matter what happens in there, have faith in yourself to handle it. You can.”

Then she knocked on the door and took a step behind Kazuki. She’d do her best to support him, but this was his trial to face, and the last thing she wanted to do was step over him and say something he didn’t mean. In the end, all she could really do was hope everyone had calmed down enough to approach things with the intention of moving on.

Location: City Streets -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria



With the sudden influx of wayfarers seeking refuge in Thorinn, it came as no surprise that the downtown market was utterly flooded with people. Denizens and players alike crowded the vendors, filling the air with a nearly-overwhelming cacophony of haggling, arguments, and occasionally a threat of violence. People were scared. They were hoarding. Food flew from the stands, alchemists were selling potions faster than they could brew them. The poor smiths, bless their hearts, would likely be working day and night for weeks to fill the orders they’d gotten in one afternoon alone.

It was disconcerting to Seele, if she was being honest. Thorinn was about to find itself with an abundance of wayfarers who were not only afraid for their lives, but who were also armed to the teeth. She hoped that in a few days’ time they’d all settle down, and the bubbling tension wouldn’t boil over into anything drastic. Well, really she hoped that in a few days’ time this whole problem would be fixed, but it seemed a bit silly to imagine a timeframe for a problem so…grand in scale.

Navigating the bustle wasn’t easy, but they managed. Seele made note of a few bakeries along the way, pointing them out to Kazuki only to feel a bit weird about it afterwards.

“Ah, sorry, I don’t know why I’m acting like a tour guide. You’re the one with a house here, you probably know the city better than I do. Thorinn is nice and all, but if I’m being honest, I think I’ve always sorta preferred the Theremian vale, or the Toraenis midlands.” It felt a bit guilting to say out loud. She giggled. “Don’t tell my pathos, though. What’s yours, by the way? You don’t strike me as the Drox type. Did you travel here from your starting kingdom?”

They came upon a clothier’s shop that was relatively uncrowded, which she supposed made sense. There were probably better, cheaper places to buy materials, and she doubted fancy clothes were high on anyone’s must-have list as it was. Nor was it on hers, either, and though she hadn’t come for clothes, she did always feel a little bit guilty whenever she spent money on herself.

But she really did not want another hat.

“Oh, sorry, hold that thought just a moment. I’ll be right back!”

Seele vanished inside, leaving Kazuki alone—or as alone as anyone could be in a busy market—for what was, to her credit, as close to “a moment” as someone could reasonably expect. When she came back out there was nothing noticeably different about her apparel, but she seemed delighted nonetheless. Her hand rested on a handle jutting from the hip of the manifold layers of her robe, and she smirked with the closest approximation to “devilishness” that she was capable of. With a bit of flourish, she drew from its thin sheath something that might have at first glance been a kind of oddly-shaped rapier, but then with a click of some internal mechanism, revealed itself in a flapping of cloth to in fact be a simple, black parasol.

She twirled it happily and let it come to rest against her shoulder, casting herself in its shade.
…sy…
“Ah, there we go, much better. Thanks for indulging me, this’ll make the sun much more bearable. And unlike that old hat, I can actually keep this in check if things get…exciting, let’s say. But anyway, we were walking.”

Location: City Streets -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria



"Why are you trying so hard to help me?"

The question was simple, yet it left her feeling almost embittered, which was silly and no one else’s fault but her own. He was right to be hesitant—she disliked it, but he was right to. People often asked her what her “angle” was, tried to figure out if she had some shady ulterior motive, or what she stood to gain from her attitude. But was it even about motive? The simple answer would have been along the lines of: “because it’s the right thing to do,” but truthfully it had never really been about right and wrong. Seele couldn’t justly moralize to anyone, especially not now that they were all trapped in this strange world.

So instead, she answered simply: “Because I want to,” and then left that bit of his question behind.

“I’m not trying to fix you, Kazuki. You’re grown, clearly you know your own flaws. They’re yours. You’ll face them when you’re ready, or when you have to. I just want to help.”

She stepped away from the house, gesturing for him to follow. “So c’mon, lets get moving. We’ll take any route you like, you lead the way. As long as it’s forward.”

Location: City Streets -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria



Seele watched…something take hold of Kazuki. Once again, as it had in the house, his body language changed dramatically in the spam of only a few moments. Suddenly he was all rigid and anchored and his voice had shrunk. He seemed…diminished.

The urge to hug him was strong, but she repressed it. She had to remind herself that feelings weren’t going to cut it with Kazuki. Platitudes and flattery might have only upset him more, so perhaps it was better to approach things head-on. There was something to be said for the comfort provided by just having a plan. She thought, then came back over to him. She tried to make her voice even and unafflicted with concern.

“I can’t be certain, no, but I believe it’s where he’s most likely to be. If we want to find him, that’s our best bet.” She couldn’t hold the tone, though. All it took was a moment’s silence for her to crumble into something softer. “But, you know, we don’t have to go there right away. It’s still early, and giving him some more time to cool off might even be a good thing. We could take the long way, run some errands if there’s anything you need to do. Could pick out that pastry I owe you, and I’ve been meaning to pick up something to help deal with this sun.”

She smiled, backing up, trying to lead him along into the streets. “It might be uncomfortable, but you are doing the right thing, Kazuki. We won’t linger if we don’t have to, and, hey, if we get there and he doesn’t show up, we can just go back to the tavern. Maybe look for Benkei if he isn’t back yet.”
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