Antoir Setrrin
I've Met My End
She didn't know who she was.
For some reason that didn't bother her- as if she had never really known herself, and was already used to seeing a stranger in the mirror every morning. Some people, if put in her position, might have devoted hours of their time to trying to discover their past. But her?... When she had woken up alone, in a small pool of blood, in the middle of a strange ship, she had simply accepted it. There had been nothing in her immediate area that hinted at foul play, and that had been enough to satisfy whatever curiosities she might have had. That had been months ago. Honestly, she did not remember what her first thoughts upon waking were, nor did she feel any need to recall them. Most of what followed seemed akin to a blur to her, as well. Only the faintest things, simple scattered memories, were available to her. Did that bother her? No, not really, for she knew that she worked as a mercenary, and mercs more often than not had days they longed to forget. Maybe she should have cared. Maybe she would have been able to find happiness if she had looked into the records on her ship, or dialed up old contacts, or simply browsed the holonet for clues. But she hadn't, not when she had first awoken, and now she felt it too late to reclaim what might have been hers. For all she knew, the past was better off forgotten. Most of it, at least.
An exception appeared to her one day, in the form of a forgotten schematic, lying among old tools. Antoir had misplaced her records of a recent contract, and had found something far more valuable while searching for it: The plans for a rather impressive set of armor. She didn't know if it was an original design, or if she even had the know how to create it, but the possibilities were too great for her to ignore. As soon as she had recovered what she had originally been looking for, she got to working on the gear. Luckily, she was in between contracts, meaning that she had plenty of time to spare. After all, she ended up needing to spend nearly a week simply examining every part of the schematic before she even knew where to start building. Some of the parts would take her quite some time to acquire, others would have to be hand made, and a few she could find around her ship. Unfortunately, looking the plans over wasn't enough to tell her whether or not she'd actually be able to put it together by herself. She didn't know who she was. By extension, she didn't know what she was fully capable of, nor did she know where her limits lie, or how hard she could push them. As with so many things in life, she wouldn't know until the truth sucker punched her.
With that in mind she'd cautiously get started on the actual construction, hoping to discover old muscle memories.
For some reason that didn't bother her- as if she had never really known herself, and was already used to seeing a stranger in the mirror every morning. Some people, if put in her position, might have devoted hours of their time to trying to discover their past. But her?... When she had woken up alone, in a small pool of blood, in the middle of a strange ship, she had simply accepted it. There had been nothing in her immediate area that hinted at foul play, and that had been enough to satisfy whatever curiosities she might have had. That had been months ago. Honestly, she did not remember what her first thoughts upon waking were, nor did she feel any need to recall them. Most of what followed seemed akin to a blur to her, as well. Only the faintest things, simple scattered memories, were available to her. Did that bother her? No, not really, for she knew that she worked as a mercenary, and mercs more often than not had days they longed to forget. Maybe she should have cared. Maybe she would have been able to find happiness if she had looked into the records on her ship, or dialed up old contacts, or simply browsed the holonet for clues. But she hadn't, not when she had first awoken, and now she felt it too late to reclaim what might have been hers. For all she knew, the past was better off forgotten. Most of it, at least.
An exception appeared to her one day, in the form of a forgotten schematic, lying among old tools. Antoir had misplaced her records of a recent contract, and had found something far more valuable while searching for it: The plans for a rather impressive set of armor. She didn't know if it was an original design, or if she even had the know how to create it, but the possibilities were too great for her to ignore. As soon as she had recovered what she had originally been looking for, she got to working on the gear. Luckily, she was in between contracts, meaning that she had plenty of time to spare. After all, she ended up needing to spend nearly a week simply examining every part of the schematic before she even knew where to start building. Some of the parts would take her quite some time to acquire, others would have to be hand made, and a few she could find around her ship. Unfortunately, looking the plans over wasn't enough to tell her whether or not she'd actually be able to put it together by herself. She didn't know who she was. By extension, she didn't know what she was fully capable of, nor did she know where her limits lie, or how hard she could push them. As with so many things in life, she wouldn't know until the truth sucker punched her.
With that in mind she'd cautiously get started on the actual construction, hoping to discover old muscle memories.