So others can read, I'll be looking to accept sheets tomorrow, so for now, the lad is back under a new name lmao
---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
---R E L A T I O N S
-A Template by Load Wraith
 ___________________________________ Palmiro Giacobbe, 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 - 25/09/1895 ► 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. |
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
- Emma Giacobbe
- Mateo Trentino
---R E L A T I O N S
To be updated...
-A Template by Load Wraith
