E L I
Quartiers personnels, nouvel Anchorage CC
C'est quoi, ça?

Eli tenait la couchette avec une adhérence mortelle, raide et ne faisait qu'effacer les frissons qui rampaient son bras. Elle ne pouvait pas éloigner ses yeux du lit vide, des couvertures jetées, de la dent dans l'oreiller où la tête de la fille devait être il y a peu.
Puis elle a recommencé à entendre les coups de feu, seulement cette fois-ci ils étaient plus dures. Chaque personne sentait comme si elle l'avait tiré par l'oreille, craquant contre le mur près de sa tête, elle sentait la mort pendue à chaque instant, chaque demi-instant, chaque fraction de chaque clin d'œil paniqué rapide. Seulement ce n'était pas le sien.
Vera est partie.
Vera est partie.
Il lui a fallu un minimum de maîtrise de soi pour qu'elle ne se précipite pas immédiatement hors de la caserne, et même alors elle aurait pu partir de toute façon, si elle n'avait pas repéré la couchette vide au-dessous de Vera. La couchette vide qui n'aurait pas dû être vide.
C'est des styles.
La pensée n'était guère consciente, mais tout de même enregistrée. Vera partageait sa couchette avec l'ancien pilote de Red Star, quelque chose qu'Eli n'était pas particulièrement heureux. Elle avait vu Red Star, elle avait combattu Red Star, elle avait tué Red Star. En ce qui la concerne, Tahlia avait été sur de minces cordes de l'aller.
C'est une coïncidence.
C'est pas vrai.
Elle regarda de nouveau autour de la caserne, comme si les derniers vestiges de la raison espéraient trouver Tahlia debout là avec le groupe, prêt à sortir et défendre New Anchorage. Puis tout aussi vite elle sentit une horrible vague de culpabilité, la prise de conscience qu'elle n'avait pas espéré voir Vera d'abord était une qu'elle était prompte à nier comme le stress induit. Cela n'a cependant pas empêché la colère de se lever, et elle n'a pas hésité à diriger cette colère à l'absent Tahlia.
Elle a pris Vera. Elle a trahi New Anchorage.
Traître.
Eli est tombé, froid, débauché. Ses mains étaient stables, ses pensées ramassées, toutes les traces de panique et de terreur ont disparu, ou du moins ont été supprimées. Le couteau était tellement serré qu'il aurait pu faire partie de sa main, ce qui était pour le mieux, étant sa seule arme. Si Tahlia était encore dans la base, elle serait probablement armée, et elle pourrait avoir Vera avec elle avec autant d'envahisseurs qu'il y en avait encore. C'est peut-être une tâche délicate.
Vous avez de l'aide.
Vous avez des distractions.
Secouer cette pensée était plus dur. Les autres, même s'ils ne la tiraient pas dans le dos, ne la soutiendraient probablement pas si elle planifiait carrément offensivement. Ils doutaient d'elle, ou pire ils faisaient confiance à Tahlia, et de là les choses ne passeraient que de pire en catastrophique.
Donc, en élevant près de Stein, elle a décidé de garder ses soucis vagues. "Vera" est parti, ainsi que Tahlia.
Elizabeth “Eli” Jackspar
"It's a knife, it doesn't have a story."
(Art courtesy of )

 C A L L S I G NBlur

 N C O R I G I NSmith’s Rest (Now called New Anchorage)

 D.O.B.May 1st 2656 (21)

 G E N D E RFemale

 A P P E A R A N C EEli is pale as a ghost, chalky from hair to toe, most wouldn’t hesitate to describe her as “haunting”. However, what people tend to notice first about her are her eyes. Icy, both in color and gaze, she always appears to be judging her surroundings, be they people or otherwise, and it’s rare that they hold even a glimmer of levity in public view. Rarer still are smiles, laughs, slouches, but an attentive eye wouldn’t struggle to spot wayward twitches, restless legs, and tapping fingers.
Her attire leans towards casual however, often wearing hooded jackets and rarely caught without a scarf worn high up her chin. Beneath everything is the pilot suit, worn near constantly. She’d claim this as common sense, practical for quick response, but she’s as attached to the piece as her own skin.

 P E R S O N A L I T YCold and dismissive to all but her superiors, but unerringly dutiful and devoted to the protection of New Anchorage. Elizabeth is a good soldier, a great soldier even, but little else. Growing up in what was essentially a broken down building full of books, and rarely being permitted to leave, shaped Eli at a young age less like a person and more like a lump of clay. She feels no sense of loss for any would-be social life, no sorrow for being deprived a childhood, only a sense of duty, and a longing for the fulfillment of that duty.
The protection of New Anchorage is without a doubt the most important thing to Eli, and anything that could be perceived as a threat to the people of her home should not be tolerated. It didn’t matter that she’d met none of them, it didn’t matter that until she stepped into her mech next to no one even knew she existed, what mattered was defending her home from all threats, foreign and domestic.
It did not become apparent until her teenage years that Eli had developed identity issues, though any outward eyes could have foreseen it. This is only heightened by a high sync-rate, something the girl is silently but immensely thankful for. When connected to her mech, and only then, does Eli feel certain of herself, like she’s stepped out of her constricting, ill-fitting skin. No doubts, no twitches, no shakes, only a unification of mind and body. And so, the inevitable disconnection never fails to leave her mentally ajar, a fact that would be unmistakably evident were she not so good at hiding it.
 S K I L L S E T
CQC: Both in and out of the mech, this is Elizabeth’s strongest skill. Growing up without the means to practice with firearms, she learned quick and learned well to trust her two hands and what she could swing with them. Eventually this translated much more elegantly into a form of swordplay in anticipation of a melee-oriented NC piloting career, and so her prowess with most things what can be held and cut with is highly refined. Unfortunately, if not predictably, she is untrained and unskilled with guns, having only operated a firearm outside of her mech, and in the context of a test.
Reflexive: Elizabeth is quick, both in body and mind. While this doesn’t necessarily equate to a proficiency in tactics, she is able to form appropriate reactions in combat, and in prolonged engagements –especially in close quarters– is able to begin analyzing offensive and defensive patterns in her opponent.
Driven: Perhaps not explicitly a skill, but doubtless one of her most notable traits. Elizabeth does not shy from completing a mission or fulfilling an order, be it in combat or otherwise. Her fierce loyalty combined turn many scenarios to “do or die” in her mind, something that, while sometimes advantageous, can be equally dangerous.

 B A C K S T O R Y ”Eli”
Eli was eight years old when she learned her name was short for “Elizabeth”. Her mother, the librarian recluse Celina Jackspar, had used it once, the first time she’d cried during her training.
”Get up, Elizabeth. Now. And never cry in front of me again.” And she never did.
The Jackspars might have been lepers for how little they interacted with the world. Confined to a modestly sized “library” nestled in the corner of what was then “Smith’s Rest”, few ever visited, and fewer were actually aware the spindly woman had a child. With little to their name aside from cases and piles of books, collected from far and unspoken edges, it would not have been unreasonable to assume the family would contribute nothing great to the world. They would exist quietly amidst a sea of old knowledge, and overtime the Jackspar name would peter out.
Celina would not allow such an outcome.
The training began early, and never slackened. Eli learned from a young age what she was, and would be, that the good majority of her life would be spent inside the cockpit of a mechanical behemoth. She did not attend school, she did not socialize with peers, she rarely left the library at all. Her life was dedication, she had to let go of the urges to want, and focus entirely on the future.
”Up.” And she got up.
The Jackspars could afford no firearms, and so forewent practicing them. Instead it was decided that Eli would master the art of melee combat in their absence. Lyosha Voloshyna, a carpenter and one of the family’s only “friends”, happily supplied them with wooden models of various swords, ranging from the typical and familiar, to the foreign and unique.
Eli was made to train with them day in and day out. They would not be weapons held, they would be extensions of her own body, or she would fall short. Countless other prospective pilots had the advantage of proper training, they could afford to be merely “adequate” so long as they rounded out a checklist and passed the neural exam.
”I don’t want you on-par, I want you better. Keep going.” And she would.
Hour after hour Eli practiced, submitting herself to the forms and tests of balance. By the time she was in her middle teens, picking up a sword felt like raising her hand, swinging felt like punching. Her threshold for pain was pushed further each day, and every time she kept her mouth shut, kept her face calm, she would catch the ghost of a smirk flicker over her mother’s face. Moving had become a dance, and she was the prima.
When she was fifteen, a practice sword broke in her hand, splintering midway down the blade. It was old, nothing unexpected, and the shattering caused her no physical harm. All the same Eli froze, wide eyes fixated on the broken blade, and her arm, then the girl collapsed in a fit of agony.
Celina watched, shocked.
”Get up.” But she didn’t. ”Elizabeth, get. Up.” But she couldn’t. It took all of her strength not to cry.
It was her first major incident, and the only one Celina ever saw. It took a few years to realize they weren’t going to stop, and seeking professional psychiatric help would murder Eli’s chances at becoming a pilot, so Celina resolved to handle the situation in her own way.
Eli knew Eli. Celina knew Elizabeth.
”Stop shaking.” And she would.
The final years leading up to application were smooth by Celina’s standards. Her daughter was sharp, fast, resilient, and above all, obedient. She would protect Smith’s Rest, she would protect its people, and she would do so under the instruction of whosoever commanded the forces.
Second to her, of course. 
 T H E M E C H
 The Blur is a lightweight NC that mirrors many of its pilot’s features. Stark white with only a few wayward cerulean lights and the bright azures of its jets to stand out, of standard height but slight of frame and thinly armored. It is clear at a glance that Blur is not built to receive much punishment, which is just fine by Eli.
Blur is an embodiment of the “high-risk-high-reward” philosophy. With its primary function being the melee engagement of high-priority targets, many of its maneuvers, both combative and evasive, necessitate a near-reflexive sync rate, and even then it’s rare for the NC to emerge from solo engagements unharmed. In reality, Blur is designed to work alongside a team and is often even dependent on one, despite that the pilot may deny it. Its standard armaments are as follows:
NA01 Energy Sword: Blur’s primary weapon, the blade is projected from the handle. A contingency, physical blade, carried onboard, can be attached as well with edges able to sustain similar heat.
Deployable Claws: Blurs fingers are overlaid by sharp attachments designed to latch on and stay on. Can be activated and retracted.
Explosive Charges: For breach scenarios and other situations that require the close-proximity planting of explosives. Housed in two separate pieces to prevent accidental detonations due to trauma/weapon fire.
Its notable equipment is as follows:
OMNI Propulsion System: Blur's key assets are speed and maneuverability and these owe largely to the propulsion system which served as the foundation for the NC's design. Four powerful engines on Blur's back act as the central piece, sleek and jutting like stagnant wings. Firing at once they allow for rapid acceleration and a tremendous peak-speed. As well, each can adjust direction independently, which, in addition to the thrusters at the base of Blur's legs, grant the NC fantastic directional control.
Flare Cache: Typical of any evasive NC, but nonetheless crucial, Blur houses a small volley of deployable flares.
 R E L A T I O N S
Vera Voloshyna: While never officially adopted by the Jackspars, Elizabeth considers Vera both a sister, and her closest friend. She knew the younger girl from early childhood, and, during her troubles, found a sole solace in Vera’s company. To this day, Eli is a different person when around her, as though Vera’s kind and caring nature has molded what little of her Celina has left untouched.
Stein Kalfox: A notable addition to the troop originally working under Sophia, Elizabeth respects Stein as a skilled pilot, and admires her work ethic. She brings a degree of discipline to what can at times be an embarrassing display. However, the girl’s deep Volkov roots make her more than an outsider, they make her a dangerous outsider, and one that Eli is glad to call an ally, but wary of all the same.
Percy Moore: Elizabeth’s opinion on Percy has shifted over time. His position among the first group has instilled in her a sense of trust, but at the same time she’s come to understand that attempting to predict his actions is a fruitless endeavor. More recently she’s come to respect him and his resolve, especially after passing Graham’s Ultimatum, and though there seems to be a general consensus that he is either unfit to pilot or is otherwise unequipped, she can’t help but harbor a morbid assurance that he is among the most dangerous of New Anchorage’s group.
John “Jingo” Strange: Another pilot Eli has a degree of trust for purely by virtue of experience. They've fought together alongside the first wave of SR pilots for the benefit of her home, and while she sees him as odd and perhaps distracting to the focus of the group, she'd rather him than a stranger.
Madison Cole: Despite having served with her in Smith’s Rest’s first NC group, Elizabeth interacted little with Madison outside of combat. She remembers her as a competent pilot, if hot-headed, and remembers with no small degree of guilt her suggestion to leave the girl behind in favor of completing their mission. Regardless, she maintains that Madison would make a good addition to the team again when she recovers.
Agatha Smith: The eldest pilot by a fair margin, Eli has had wary eyes on Agatha from her first day. Is she too old to do her job, or too good to be trusted? Agatha is one of the few that Eli has directly expressed her caution to, as well as her respect. She’s certain no one can survive in their field without a purpose, and whatever Agatha’s is, Eli can at least commend her for persevering. Of course, respect is not complacency.
Tahlia Styles: Among the second wave of pilots was the stark and strong Tahlia Styles, a woman Eli hasn’t known long enough to get enough of a gauge on, despite seeing her relatively often. Her apparent skill as a pilot on further fuels a familiar distrust that overpowers most feelings Eli has on Tahlia.
Ryn Dradht: Loud, rash, and horrible for moral –something Eli cares admittedly little for, but nonetheless– Ryn is not what she considers a “great” addition to the team at face value. However how she acts out of her NC is not important compared to her ability to pull her own weight in combat and stay loyal, and as long as those fields are met, Eli’s just as glad to keep her mouth shut.
Ordent Callaway: Quiet, but not quite in the troubling way. Eli doesn’t have much to say about the new pilot, except that she’s not sure she trusts him to defend New Anchorage on skills alone, not even going into what she might think of him as a person.
Alan Fouren: Eli isn’t sure what Alan’s deal is. At first she assumed his enlistment was some sort of joke she wasn’t getting; he doesn’t act like a soldier, his mech is a shambling mismatched monster, and he only just scraped by Graham’s tests. Does he expect an easy job? A quick paycheck? Either he’s an incompetent fool, or he’s holding back, and Eli isn’t about to put up with either. 
Michael Graham: Celina’s only fear when she sent Elizabeth off was how she would adjust to a change in authority. Thankfully she reacted well, finding a comfort and even mentor figure in Sophia, which made the woman’s eventual desertion strike that much harder. So, to put it simply, Eli doesn’t like Graham. She respects him, his word, she heeds him as a strong leader and soldier, and on the basis of her enlistment could not fathom disobeying him, but she doesn’t for a moment trust him.
Celina Jackspar: Elizabeth’s mother, and the one responsible for the young woman’s development. Eli holds her mother in higher regard than any other, and follows her commands as though they were her own thoughts. Though this relationship is kept subtle and secret whilst the two are apart, together there is little doubt that the girl is utterly subservient and perhaps even inwardly terrified of her mother.