Bartimaeus

STAR WARS: OUTCAST SQUADRON

Been wanting a Starwars thing for a while. I'm interested if I'll be had.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Zeltzin Sandoval

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Mentions: Everyone Location: Quintin Streets > Webb Family Coffee House

---

Zeltzin was far from stranger to the humid heat of the south. In fact, due to living only an hour or two away, the journey to Quintin was not that long a one. She had lived most her life in Texas, but was known to romp over to Louisiana for a good time in the past. A past that seemed.. so long ago, now. But nevertheless, her acclimation to the climate carried on strong. Honestly though, the climate didn't matter to her, as long as she's atop a sleek iron steed, the ride was all she thought about -- well, except today.

Today was different. Eleanor was all she could think about. Admittedly, she already thought about Eleanor a lot - how couldn't she? Eleanor changed her life for the better in the most literal senses. But despite the harsh outlook she held, she felt.. vulnerable. She was looking for Eleanor again.

Zeltzin made an attempt to expel such vulnerabilities from her mind, shaking her head before she peered forward through her bike helmet once again. Her gaze met what one could suppose was a "Welcome to Quintin" sign - though it really did little to welcome many. But such was standard fare for many small towns in the south, she had come to learn. The speedometer in front of her slowly began to wind down as she decelerated, drawing closer to the streets of Quintin.

It didn't take too long for her to find the meetup spot. A place labeled "Webb Family Coffee House". Zeltzin drew to a slow halt, the black sportbike beneath her calming to a dulcified purr as she gazed through the windowfront. Place seemed quaint - fitting for a small town, but maybe one that was a bit less swampy. She continued surveying the inside of the shop, noticing a gathering beginning to build up at a large table - it seemed she was just a tad late, but not everyone was settled in yet. She dismounted her bike as she turned her attention away from the window, holding back a grimace as she pulled her right leg over the bike. It'd been quite a time since she'd stayed bike-bound for more than an hour at a time - not exactly the most comfortable for her.

She shook off the inconvenience as she tugged the helmet off her head, oblivious to any weird looks she might've been the recipient of. She was mostly used to weird looks in these sorts of towns - they usually didn't harbor many sportbike enthusiasts - especially not in areas as swampy as Quentin. She hung her helmet off one of the handlebars as she tucked the key into her pocket, turning towards the coffee shop as thoughts of Eleanor started to amass in her head again. Her face developed an irked, but equally hesitant appearance as her limped gait stopped just outside the door. Part of her was trying to reason that if there were any way to find Eleanor, she would've found her already - but a much stronger part would take any opportunity to at least try, no matter how unlikely success was.

Her body moved to pry the door open before she had even decided - and she took her cue to step inside.

The group whom seemed to be who she was looking for was just starting to introduce themselves. They were a curiously distinct bunch - but what could you really expect if you collected a handful of people from wherever-the-fuck. Her eyes scanned the area shortly before she stole the closest chair from a nearby table, dragging it into a spot where she could still listen, and feasibly "participate", while still retaining a clear meter or two of personal space. She angled the chair before gracelessly planting herself in it more heavily than one would expect.

If she was being truly honest with herself, she didn't expect any of these strangers to know what they were talking about. Even as they spoke, she barely managed to hold back a scowl - they had everything wrong. Not a thing they were talking about matched the Eleanor Black she had known.

Zeltzin relegated herself to just listening, for now - as was modus operandi for her. She often made more soured-acquaintances than friends when she spoke, so it seemed wise to remain quiet. At least until she was spoken to directly.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Z

"Honestly - get out of my goddamn face. Ain't got nothin' to say to you."

_______________________________________________ Zeltzin Sandoval She/Her | 27 | Hispanic (Mexican) | 5'8" (69.6in) | 142lbs _______________________________________________ Stubborn _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "You learn some things, growin' up like I did." ___________________________________ [+] [Persuasive] ⫻ Even after her accident, Zeltzin is a very.. persuasive person. She can usually manage to get her way, whether it be through deception, intimidation, or just raw muscle. [Coordinated] ⫻ Zeltzin is very coordinated, both physically and mentally. She is fast and accurate with her movements, especially when it comes to handling tools, gear, vehicles, etc. and is a strong and fast thinker, giving her an edge in high-speed situations. Of course, her leg limits her somewhat. [Adrenaline-fiend] ⫻ Zeltzin is.. well, she has a history of pushing herself past her limits. She always knows when to stop - but doesn't always care. She can push much further than others once she's hopped up on the high of the moment - or if she just doesn't care anymore. This obviously has some less-than-ideal long-term effects, but don't tell her that.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "..nah, it doesn't fuckin' hurt at all." If one were to try and describe Zeltzin's appearance in one term, "simplistically beautiful" wouldn't be far from the truth. While nothing about her particularly stands out from the norm, with her features combined she is admittedly quite attractive - even if her personality doesn't exactly match. Zeltzin possesses a narrowly-heart-shaped face that, while naturally expressive, is usually relegated to some form of surly countenance. Said face is framed loosely by chest-length, thick brown hair that contrasts somewhat with her lighter, yet smoothly-tanned, skin. The darker composition of her features continues finally with her eyes, which are a simple, dark brown - which, next to her thickish, expressive brows, appear somehow piercing, despite their relative lack of animation. Her Hispanic genes don't just stop at her face, of course. Apart from being a bit taller than average at 5'8", Zeltzin is still a relatively petite figure, aside from the curvaceousness of her lower half. This "daintiness", however, is far from who she really is. Closer inspection reveals her to have a particularly toned physique, with definite focus on her biceps and abdominals. One would rarely be able to notice such features withal, due to the unrevealing nature of her wardrobe. Leather jackets, long-sleeved Ts, jeans, pants, jean jackets, boots, and things of the like are common for her. She cares little for others opinions on her apparel, and wears what she wears usually to suit a certain function, or to fit her own tastes. All-in-all, Zeltzin is devoid of any truly glaring features, except one -- a noticeable limp which is often accompanied by abated grimaces - something that oddly polarizes her status as an otherwise healthy young woman.

_{Psychology
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"What's it even matter?? Qué maldito fastidio.."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Zeltzin doesn't really.. have a main goal in life, really. For most of it she just.. goes with what she's been given. She makes a living where she can and never really thinks too far past that point. But, if she had to think about it.. she really wouldn't have it another way - living life one foot in front of the other is probably what suits her best.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ What happens, happens. There's not much point in dwelling over things that have ailed you. Shrugging it off, shoving past it, or just ignoring your problems may not be the "healthiest" or whatever, but it works, for the mostpart.

SECRETS ⫻ Zeltzin has semi-recently developed a dependency for pain medication.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Bisexual

FEARS ⫻ Zeltzin's greatest fear is being left alone to cope with her pain.

WHO IS ELEANOR BLACK TO YOU? ⫻ Eleanor and Zeltzin had a deeply loving romantic relationship before Ms. Black's sudden disappearance. Before then, Eleanor was the only shoulder that Zeltzin could lean on after a brutal motorcycle accident left her leg ravaged. Eleanor was the only thing that drove her to get back in the saddle again, and for that, among other things, Zeltzin is forever indebted to her. After Eleanor's disappearance, though, Zeltzin has grown more and more bad-tempered and testy.

FLAWS ⫻ Zeltzin not only has a pretty short fuse and an unapproachable disposition, but is also a rather poor cooperator. She has her own reasons to look for Eleanor, and couldn't give less fucks about anybody else's. Additionally, she has a nasty addiction to painkillers, due to a piece of shrapnel imbedded in her leg having caused nerve-damage.

_{Backstory
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"It's nothin' special."

Zeltzin's upbringing was nothing if not a bit.. rough. It could've been worse - but it could've been much better - at least in some folk's eyes.

Being raised in a not-so-well-off area of town by a struggling single mother, she did not enjoy as many luxuries as others did, nor did she get to experience much of any sort of family dynamic. Her mother was always working to support them, leaving Zeltzin to her own devices. Growing up, she had decent grades and less-than-decent friends, with little desire to really change anything about her circumstances. She was just "content", if you could call it that. Ganging up with the "wrong" crowds didn't seem too bad to her - what wasn't there to like about booze, cash, and freedom from the expectations of bosses or whatever?

In fact, Zeltzin enjoyed the freedom of such a lifestyle so much that she had begun making moves towards becoming a career criminal, of sorts. She was making connections - connections that valued her ability to swindle, muscle, or otherwise acquire certain goods from certain crowds.

At least, that was true until she faced a brutal motorcycle accident that sent her directly into emergency care.

It took months upon months for her to recover. Considering the depth and severity of her injuries, which mostly encompassed her right leg, right arm, and torso, Zeltzin's doctors had a tough run of returning her to her former functionality. For the most part, she recuperated very well. However, the depth of damage to her right leg was quite severe - a few pieces of shrapnel having caused nerve-damage - and some of said shrapnel being inoperable due to its precarious location.

This left Zeltzin utterly defeated. She was physically broken and, though she wouldn't admit it, terrified of even thinking about riding again. And she would have been financially fucked, too, if she didn't have the connections she did to cover the sizable medical fees.

But.. fate did not have only destruction in mind for her.

Due to the long-term nature of her wound and the atrophy her leg went through as she healed, if Zeltzin wanted to ever walk or run again, physical therapy was a necessity. And that was how, through the contrite hand of fate, she met the love of her life - Eleanor Black.

Eleanor Black was her physical therapist, and eventually, a reason to carry on for Zeltzin. While it was rocky at first, they eventually began to fall for each other, and grew to be more than just therapist-patient.

Over a year later, the two moved in together. And Eleanor somehow got Zeltzin to get back in the saddle of a motorbike again. After a few years, Zeltzin had moved on to more clean enterprises - eventually earning a living through racing semi-professionally instead of the suspicious tracks she had been into before. Life was turning up for her.

And then.. Eleanor vanished.

Without a trace, the love of her life was gone. Zeltzin was worried. Confused. Angry. Eleanor never returned, and Zeltzin was heartbroken. Life had taken everything from her again. And this time there was nobody there to help her get through it.

After Eleanor's disappearance, Zeltzin's demeanor soured considerably. Her chill, carefree, adventurous bearing rotted away into something more.. cross with the world. Now, people only describe her as "surly", "crabby", or "asshole".

But, she still holds.. something close to her heart. As evident by her discovery of an online medium through which there were a bunch of strangers trying to find her Eleanor. If she weren't looking for it, she never could've found such a thing.

So, it seemed there was only one option.. she was going to Quintin, Louisiana. She wasn't going to let a bunch of strangers go on a manhunt for Eleanor without her. And.. part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, they could find something. Anything.

And not once did it cross her mind that she might not know Eleanor was well as she thought.

_{Paranormal-Abilities
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"Bullshit."

^{Other
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
".."

Technically, Zeltzin has been suggested a cane, but refuses to use it. She does carry it on her bike, though.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

@Punished GN will do! Thank!

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Z

"Honestly - get out of my goddamn face. Ain't got nothin' to say to you."

_______________________________________________ Zeltzin Sandoval She/Her | 27 | Hispanic (Mexican) | 5'8" (69.6in) | 142lbs _______________________________________________ Stubborn _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "You learn some things, growin' up like I did." ___________________________________ [+] [Persuasive] ⫻ Even after her accident, Zeltzin is a very.. persuasive person. She can usually manage to get her way, whether it be through deception, intimidation, or just raw muscle. [Coordinated] ⫻ Zeltzin is very coordinated, both physically and mentally. She is fast and accurate with her movements, especially when it comes to handling tools, gear, vehicles, etc. and is a strong and fast thinker, giving her an edge in high-speed situations. Of course, her leg limits her somewhat. [Adrenaline-fiend] ⫻ Zeltzin is.. well, she has a history of pushing herself past her limits. She always knows when to stop - but doesn't always care. She can push much further than others once she's hopped up on the high of the moment - or if she just doesn't care anymore. This obviously has some less-than-ideal long-term effects, but don't tell her that.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "..nah, it doesn't fuckin' hurt at all." If one were to try and describe Zeltzin's appearance in one term, "simplistically beautiful" wouldn't be far from the truth. While nothing about her particularly stands out from the norm, with her features combined she is admittedly quite attractive - even if her personality doesn't exactly match. Zeltzin possesses a narrowly-heart-shaped face that, while naturally expressive, is usually relegated to some form of surly countenance. Said face is framed loosely by chest-length, thick brown hair that contrasts somewhat with her lighter, yet smoothly-tanned, skin. The darker composition of her features continues finally with her eyes, which are a simple, dark brown - which, next to her thickish, expressive brows, appear somehow piercing, despite their relative lack of animation. Her Hispanic genes don't just stop at her face, of course. Apart from being a bit taller than average at 5'8", Zeltzin is still a relatively petite figure, aside from the curvaceousness of her lower half. This "daintiness", however, is far from who she really is. Closer inspection reveals her to have a particularly toned physique, with definite focus on her biceps and abdominals. One would rarely be able to notice such features withal, due to the unrevealing nature of her wardrobe. Leather jackets, long-sleeved Ts, jeans, pants, jean jackets, boots, and things of the like are common for her. She cares little for others opinions on her apparel, and wears what she wears usually to suit a certain function, or to fit her own tastes. All-in-all, Zeltzin is devoid of any truly glaring features, except one -- a noticeable limp which is often accompanied by abated grimaces - something that oddly polarizes her status as an otherwise healthy young woman.

_{Psychology
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"What's it even matter?? Qué maldito fastidio.."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Zeltzin doesn't really.. have a main goal in life, really. For most of it she just.. goes with what she's been given. She makes a living where she can and never really thinks too far past that point. But, if she had to think about it.. she really wouldn't have it another way - living life one foot in front of the other is probably what suits her best.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ What happens, happens. There's not much point in dwelling over things that have ailed you. Shrugging it off, shoving past it, or just ignoring your problems may not be the "healthiest" or whatever, but it works, for the mostpart.

SECRETS ⫻ Zeltzin has semi-recently developed a dependency for pain medication.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Bisexual

FEARS ⫻ Zeltzin's greatest fear is being left alone to cope with her pain.

WHO IS ELEANOR BLACK TO YOU? ⫻ Eleanor and Zeltzin had a deeply loving romantic relationship before Ms. Black's sudden disappearance. Before then, Eleanor was the only shoulder that Zeltzin could lean on after a brutal motorcycle accident left her leg ravaged. Eleanor was the only thing that drove her to get back in the saddle again, and for that, among other things, Zeltzin is forever indebted to her. After Eleanor's disappearance, though, Zeltzin has grown more and more bad-tempered and testy.

FLAWS ⫻ Zeltzin not only has a pretty short fuse and an unapproachable disposition, but is also a rather poor cooperator. She has her own reasons to look for Eleanor, and couldn't give less fucks about anybody else's. Additionally, she has a nasty addiction to painkillers, due to a piece of shrapnel imbedded in her leg having caused nerve-damage.

_{Backstory
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"It's nothin' special."

Zeltzin's upbringing was nothing if not a bit.. rough. It could've been worse - but it could've been much better - at least in some folk's eyes.

Being raised in a not-so-well-off area of town by a struggling single mother, she did not enjoy as many luxuries as others did, nor did she get to experience much of any sort of family dynamic. Her mother was always working to support them, leaving Zeltzin to her own devices. Growing up, she had decent grades and less-than-decent friends, with little desire to really change anything about her circumstances. She was just "content", if you could call it that. Ganging up with the "wrong" crowds didn't seem too bad to her - what wasn't there to like about booze, cash, and freedom from the expectations of bosses or whatever?

In fact, Zeltzin enjoyed the freedom of such a lifestyle so much that she had begun making moves towards becoming a career criminal, of sorts. She was making connections - connections that valued her ability to swindle, muscle, or otherwise acquire certain goods from certain crowds.

At least, that was true until she faced a brutal motorcycle accident that sent her directly into emergency care.

It took months upon months for her to recover. Considering the depth and severity of her injuries, which mostly encompassed her right leg, right arm, and torso, Zeltzin's doctors had a tough run of returning her to her former functionality. For the most part, she recuperated very well. However, the depth of damage to her right leg was quite severe - a few pieces of shrapnel having caused nerve-damage - and some of said shrapnel being inoperable due to its precarious location.

This left Zeltzin utterly defeated. She was physically broken and, though she wouldn't admit it, terrified of even thinking about riding again. And she would have been financially fucked, too, if she didn't have the connections she did to cover the sizable medical fees.

But.. fate did not have only destruction in mind for her.

Due to the long-term nature of her wound and the atrophy her leg went through as she healed, if Zeltzin wanted to ever walk or run again, physical therapy was a necessity. And that was how, through the contrite hand of fate, she met the love of her life - Eleanor Black.

Eleanor Black was her physical therapist, and eventually, a reason to carry on for Zeltzin. While it was rocky at first, they eventually began to fall for each other, and grew to be more than just therapist-patient.

Over a year later, the two moved in together. And Eleanor somehow got Zeltzin to get back in the saddle of a motorbike again. After a few years, Zeltzin had moved on to more clean enterprises - eventually earning a living through racing semi-professionally instead of the suspicious tracks she had been into before. Life was turning up for her.

And then.. Eleanor vanished.

Without a trace, the love of her life was gone. Zeltzin was worried. Confused. Angry. Eleanor never returned, and Zeltzin was heartbroken. Life had taken everything from her again. And this time there was nobody there to help her get through it.

After Eleanor's disappearance, Zeltzin's demeanor soured considerably. Her chill, carefree, adventurous bearing rotted away into something more.. cross with the world. Now, people only describe her as "surly", "crabby", or "asshole".

But, she still holds.. something close to her heart. As evident by her discovery of an online medium through which there were a bunch of strangers trying to find her Eleanor. If she weren't looking for it, she never could've found such a thing.

So, it seemed there was only one option.. she was going to Quintin, Louisiana. She wasn't going to let a bunch of strangers go on a manhunt for Eleanor without her. And.. part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, they could find something. Anything.

And not once did it cross her mind that she might not know Eleanor was well as she thought.

_{Paranormal-Abilities
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"Bullshit."

^{Other
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
".."

Technically, Zeltzin has been suggested a cane, but refuses to use it. She does carry it on her bike, though.

Strange Gospel: A Heavily Persona-Inspired Urban Fantasy RP

Chise Nozaki

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_{Mentions: @VitaVitaAR Location: In the Gospel??}

---

The vagueness of Nozomi's answer did little to quell Chise's concern, but it was understandable that she felt it wasn't the best time to explain - especially considering how intent the creature seemed on chasing them. To him though, there was no telling how close they were to their destination, or what it even really was. He was left only completely in the dark.

And soon things would seem to take a turn for the worse as another one of the spindly, spider creatures crawled itself into view - this time blocking their path.

Shit.

Chise immediately looked around for anything that could help them in their escape. Maybe there was a fire escape they could escape up into? Or a at least a lead pipe or something they could use to somehow defend themselves?? His eyes darted around them, but there was nothing. They were defenseless.

Chise watched hopelessly as the things crawled closer to them, Nozomi muttering something to herself as she briefly rummaged through her bag. The boy watched on as he waited for the creatures to come closer and- wait, what was Nozomi-

Chise winced as he watched the girl bring some bladed object down, jabbing into her wrist.

"N-Nozomi!?" Was all he had time to say before her efforts took effect. She shouted out and what happened next was beyond even Chise's ability to reason. A figure assembled itself there, behind her - from nothing. A girl clad in silver was suddenly amongst them, an air of supernaturality accompanying it as it floated before them. He instinctively went to step backwards, as it appeared so close to him, but part of his brain stopped him from getting any closer to the beast that was approaching from behind.

And there was hardly time to examine the girl before it made its move. Its limbs - which were more ribbon than limb - rose and conjured an orb of light, which was launched towards the spider which blocked their path, smashing into it and sending it off its feet into a patch of its own goop. The silver girl then spun and dealt with the other spider in equally impressive fashion, sending it sprawling off its feet as well, this time by hand.

Chise barely had time to marvel before Nozomi was tugging him away once again. He allowed himself to be led as his feet started to pick up pace again into a run, his head swiveling around to see the silver girl begin following them.

What had Nozomi said..? Hecate? Chise recognized the name as that of a Greek Goddess.. but.. he was ultimately so lost as to what had just happened. He turned his head back to Nozomi, looking over her as he followed, though this time as if she were different somehow. But he kept silent, seeing as their was little time to explain. His raving thoughts were kept to himself.

What is going on here..??

Ultimately, he tried to shake the confusion from his head and keep his head in the game. His eyes were then sent to their surroundings, searching for any other monsters that could jump out at them at a moment's notice.

~ AoT - The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Sorcha Argue

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Mentions: None Location: Quinta district main street

---

Despite the early hours of dawn, Quinta's main street was rife with the chatter and toil of the common man. The clopping of hooves and the murmur of the cityfolk intermingled into a sound that Sorcha had grown pretty accustomed to over the last year or so. She sat upon her own horse, the honeyed glow of the morning sun bathing over her as she and her trio of equines trekked along the cobbled road, stopping only occasionally to allow pedestrians to pass by as they set up their stalls and storefronts.

The girl's quest on this journey was a simple one - sell some horses. She lived, sometimes alongside her father, in a small-ish town shortly south-east of the Quinta district. There, she worked at a stables under the guidance of a close family friend who owned a successful array of stud farms and commercial stables. While she was young, she had grown a distaste for idleness over the years - and even though her father insisted he made enough in the Survey Corps to take care of any of her needs, she insisted on doing some work for herself as well. And so she did, with his reluctant blessing. Over time, she had acquired more responsibilities at the stables - one of which was vending the horses which wouldn't be sold to the government - which she was doing at this very moment.

Said horses were usually from a less-successful or more-wild bloodline, or weren't strong enough to endure riding or work for long hours. So, they would be sold to anybody who wanted to, or could afford to, purchase them on Quinta streets - which were usually not too many, considering the price of a horse. However, those who did wish to purchase a horse were usually on the wealthier side, which left Sorcha to put a bit of her own.. touch onto their prices.

Sorcha was in her own world, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight as she rode at a stroll's pace along the street - until she was met with a short, interruptive whinny. She blinked as she returned to the world around her, her eyes quickly taking in the area that surrounded them. She reached one hand forward to pet the horse she was riding upon.

"Shh, I'm here, Hutch. Don't ya take that tone with me!" Sorcha jauntily ensured as she delivered a few heavy pats to the side of his neck.

Hutch was a drawn and brawny horse with long legs and a short, black mane. His coat was painted, with a black base and medium splatters of white over his flanks. He had a distinct look to him not only due to his painted appearance, but also the white mask that saturated his entire face, starting just in front of his ears and jaw. His eyes are a light, calm blue and sit circled with a thin, black line of hair.

His white lips parted as he released a snort in response to Sorcha's assurances. He jerked his head to the side, drawing the girl's eyes to glance over in that direction just as another horse-and-rider pair drew to a close next to them.

The man that sat upon the simple-looking bay was clad in a smart, green coat and wore a bowler hat of a matching shade. One could tell by the upright, almost regal posture he possessed, as well as the uncomfortable glances that he occasionally threw to the people surrounding him, that he was not from the area. Which made sense - few people who lived within wall Maria could easily afford a horse - though many could appreciate the help of one. The most wealthy people lived closer to the capital - and while they usually didn't have much use for a horse since the work wasn't nearly as hard there, there were those who owned horses for sport. But breeders were much harder to find the closer you got to the capital.

There was a brief moment of contemplative pause as the man assessed Sorcha and her horses, before he spoke.

"Good morning, young lady." He spoke, a disciplined pattern of speech evidence as he talked. "I surmise by the stature of your horses that they are healthy - are they purebred? I may be interested in an acquisition."

Sorcha smiled to herself. At this point it was almost routine. Every so often a rich, pompous fat cat would approach her and ask about buying a horse or two. And she would always gouge the hell out of 'em. She didn't feel guilty, either - they had more than they needed, and she didn't. For the most part.

She took a moment to silently collect herself before responding. "Good morning, sir! These horses are indeed for sale. This one here," She said, gesturing a hand towards the Brown Bay that followed obediently on a lead behind her, "is a purebred Bay. This other one is not a purebred, but it is still a capable horse, for certain, sir." She finished, internally wincing at herself as she spoke in a much more formal tone than she was comfortable with. Seeing as it tended to ingratiate her to her client's wallets, she deemed it worth the temporary discomfort.

The man looked over her briefly as she spoke, before his eyes shifted to the Bay, examining its coat and whatever else he wanted it for. He did so for a moment, before his eyes came to rest on Hutch. "And that one? It has quite a distinct coat."

The polite smile that sat upon Sorcha's lips almost immediately disappeared, and her lips drew flat. "No, he isn't for sale."

The man released a short chuckle before continuing. "Aha, but everything is for sale, my darling. I could pay very heftily for such a unique horse."

Sorcha didn't budge, her tone now completely unaccommodating. "He's not for sale."

At this, the man eyed her bitterly as he let out an annoyed huff. There was a moment of silence as he seemingly quelled the feeling of indignity that he was met with. He eventually rolled his eyes.

"Very well, then. The purebred Bay will do."

They spent a few minutes discussing price and such before the Bay was released from her care and relinquished to the gentleman, who took his prize and continued his walk with his new horse in tow.

Sorcha let out a relieved sigh as she released the straight-backed posture she had been so loathe to hold for her clientele.

As they continued their walk down the cobble road once again, Hutch made a happy whinny as they went. Sorcha rolled her eyes and huffed. "Prick."

~ AoT - The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Sorcha

Name ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Sorcha Argue Gender ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Female Age ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 16 (At breach) / 18 (Training age) Ethnicity ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Irish Branch ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 108th Trainee Corps Affiliations ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [+] TBD - TBD	█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █	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.

~ AoT - The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

@Bartimaeus I bet she likes to argue.

@Kuro

You will be the first to go.

@LetMeDoStuff Thankies

~ AoT - The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Here go

Sorcha

Name ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Sorcha Argue Gender ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Female Age ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 16 (At breach) / 18 (Training age) Ethnicity ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Irish Branch ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 108th Trainee Corps Affiliations ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [+] TBD - TBD	█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █	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.