AMON LANC

>> ALIAS; Aren.
>> AGE; Nineteen.
>> GENDER; Male.
>> FACTION; Special Federation.
>> RANK; Cadet.
>> SEXUALITY; Pansexual.

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>> APPEARANCE;
When he isn't folded up into his suit, he's still a pretty easy figure to spot. Amon bears a lanky, almost stretched out frame, appearing almost fragile if not for the tensile strength that lies hidden in his muscles. Long days of travel and work have left him with deft physical reflexes and a wiry body, resilient to both pain and stress; remarkably enough, his skin tone remains relatively light. His hair is a silky mess of blond, ranging from short to medium; the bangs are constant, though, framing a set of dark eyes.

He invests in thick, durable, travel-worthy clothing and tends to avoid decorative wear; however, recently he has fallen into the habit of wearing a bandage over the permanent slit in his lip.

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>> PERSONALITY;
+ retentive; selects details readily in conversation or in voices.
+ rationalistic; puts himself to a code of conduct which usually dissolves the sincerity common to his character.
+ unassuming; can't say you really see him coming.
+ companionable; generally comradely, not afraid to encroach if the value of aiding another is visible.
+ casual; he isn't afraid to meddle and he's glad to meet others.

- [semi] unambitious; no drive to his life except maybe to the marriage of his toolbox, becomes a little indulgent in the fresh round of cards one evening per week
- restive; a year's seclusion had him a little stir-crazy from his time recuperating and the thought of doing absolutely nothing completely horrifies him.
- hermetical; the awkward sheep in social circles, his leave had diluted the neighborly attitude he was known for.
- hyper-critical; of himself mostly as its application to others is rare.
- mistrusting; draws a line he hopes never to over-stride content to keep others at a curious and peaceful distance.

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>> HISTORY;
From the ripe age of four, Amon's tiny shadow flitted around his uncle's mechanic shop picking up the tricks and trials of his trade, accompanying him to draw out specs for customizations of every tier; the boy was whole-heartedly ready to inherit his 'dad's' minor empire until illness incapacitated his mobility and their business fell into stasis which moved into a undeterminable hiatus, effectively disintegrating. A lot went to hell in a handbasket and maybe one day he'll tell you about it when he's not too deep into his cups or something...but probably not.

There was no drive to his life beyond his own personal issues and he became a cadet because it seemed the simplest way to support himself not to mention he'd have a chance to manipulate mobile suits again instead of mundane vehicular transport.

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>> NAME: Nic.
>> GENDER: Male.
>> FACE CLAIM: Abel - Starfighter