Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Nessun dato killboard disponibile per questo pilota.
Attività
Cosa vola, dove combatte, le ultime kill e perdite
Bio in gioco
( Death before detransition. TRANS PRIDE. Traitors Die. )
Born a spacer, always a spacer. She doesn't like the feeling of gravity on her feet, the heaviness of her body on the round worlds are more alien to her than the wormholes hiding in the darkness of vast space surrounding her and all.
Born of uncertain parents, untattooed and clanless. Raised by Sebiestor spacers in a rusted frigate floating aimlessly between worlds she learned the value of tools and ingenuity at a very young age. Ships became a part of her, extensions of her. The subtle vibrations and hums of the metal and electronics around her a symphony in her mind that speak to her in tongues as clear to her as common english.
A capsuleer she became. A procedure that was forced upon her. Is she real? This question burns in her, leaving her empty, making her feel like a cheap copy of a real soul. To fill the emptiness of her copied soul she endevours to do what kindness she can to those around her. The cruelty and degeneracy of those around her bothering her on a fundamental level.
Banished. A life in her past she can no longer be a part of. She flees, or is banished? The end result the same. Here she is where you find her, severed permanently from her past and looking with dead eyes at a universe with no future.
Damned. You've killed her before, she sucks at flying. It's not just you, she hates everyone. But she hates right wing snowflakes most of all.
Born a spacer, always a spacer. She doesn't like the feeling of gravity on her feet, the heaviness of her body on the round worlds are more alien to her than the wormholes hiding in the darkness of vast space surrounding her and all.
Born of uncertain parents, untattooed and clanless. Raised by Sebiestor spacers in a rusted frigate floating aimlessly between worlds she learned the value of tools and ingenuity at a very young age. Ships became a part of her, extensions of her. The subtle vibrations and hums of the metal and electronics around her a symphony in her mind that speak to her in tongues as clear to her as common english.
A capsuleer she became. A procedure that was forced upon her. Is she real? This question burns in her, leaving her empty, making her feel like a cheap copy of a real soul. To fill the emptiness of her copied soul she endevours to do what kindness she can to those around her. The cruelty and degeneracy of those around her bothering her on a fundamental level.
Banished. A life in her past she can no longer be a part of. She flees, or is banished? The end result the same. Here she is where you find her, severed permanently from her past and looking with dead eyes at a universe with no future.
Damned. You've killed her before, she sucks at flying. It's not just you, she hates everyone. But she hates right wing snowflakes most of all.