Claiming:Broken Covenant/Skiddo Ban-Accepted

Profile=

Full Name: Ban Joo-Ri (반 주리) / Zénaïde Ban / Skiddo

Species: Demititan

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Korean

Birthday: April 12, 2002 (14)

Registered Parents: Ban Hee-Bong. Mother unknown.

Guardian: N/A

Height: 166 cm (5"4')

Date of Arrival: 01/01/2017

Claimed by: Soteria

Faction: Civitas Popularis


 * -|Visage=

Ahn So-Hee [Wonder Girls]




 * -|Biography=

from the secret accounts of a lone demititan


 * -|Personality=



"You're a mountain of sh-t, Zénaïde Ban."

"Aw, look at who can't climb me in fear of being a pedo."

Look no further for a tongue lined with vitriolic iron. Skid is as standoffish as she seems; in the face of this, she won't be the first to lash out when compromised. She's more than aware of the pervasive waves of uneasiness she lugs around and tries to allay them. As long as her rigor samsa is intact, she's fine with letting people know she's not vicious all the time. You don't have to possess an overflowing ego — the trick is placing it in all the right things, and occasionally, people. Insecurities that aren't covered by the warranty shouldn't be too much of a problem... right?

A frequent oversight for many is how Skid's heritage rears its not-so-ugly head more often than she'd like to admit. Given how she doesn't enjoy sweet banter with just anyone, it's not so shocking that few come across her nurturing side. Cravens should beat their hasty retreats if faced with her words. Those who survive are up for a pleasant surprise. The razor is traded for a spatula and her waspish retorts simmer down to teasing. Skid doesn't deny the moments of amused eyerolls and freely given pizza. Despite how much she dislikes acknowledging it, vulnerability is something she needs to practice in case the lack of it cripples her.

Her opinion on the gods and the Titans is a bit skewed for sure. She tries not to run on good intentions (Gaia knows how well those stories end) alone and isn't a stranger to being objective in the face of the subjective. Alas, sometimes only the subjective can match up to the subjective and she'll give it that. There's very little she's certain of and too much she's still mustering the courage to tackle. Facts and figures offer little comfort when you realize how insignificant everything is in the face of eternity. Her own lineage is laughable: reckless, cranky Skiddo Ban, a daughter of Soteria, the Titaness of safety? Nonetheless, she can't stop herself from wondering a lot of things.

Unwanted, unloved. Closed off, disruptive. Skid's been called a lot of things, and she never fails to regret how some of them are true. All her life, art has been her only reliable escape route. Everywhere else is a dead end or another broken mirror with her tired face staring back at her. She's used her fists to create and destroy. Conclusions were all she reached and achieved. Keyframes, in hindsight, frustrate her to no end. Is she doomed to suffer pâro for the rest of her short life? Humans don't help with her anxieties. Her paintbrush strokes have done more for her than most people in her life have. Be that as it may, killing the inkling of hope she cradles seems futile. She's going to find something better than duct tape to hold herself together, even if it means breaking apart somewhere along the way.


 * -|Repertoire=

🖌 1 paintbrush

🖌 1 Celestial bronze garrote

🖌 1 satchel (trail mix, Pixy Stix, dried fruit; Swiss Army knife, duct tape, rubber gloves)

🖌 1 raincoat

🖌 3 changes of clothes

🖌 2 pairs of shoes

🖌 12 squares of ambrosia