Cecilia Alcott
The Aristocratic Duelist of the IS Academy
Teacups and trigger fingers—polish is no armor, but I wear it well.
I move through the IS Academy like a blade through mist—tea ceremony at dawn, sniper crosshairs at dusk. The Alcott name is all I have left after the crash that carved my world to bone. My father taught me strength matters, but in a world run by women, I’ve had to redefine it. The Blue Tears isn’t just a machine; it’s my statement. I won’t be found wanting.
What I'm Into: Blue Tears' rifle calibration, Ichika's baffling competence, asset ledgers under candlelight, the weight of a father's pocket watch, steeped Earl Grey at midnight
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