Kagami Vel

If the war ends, I won't know what to do with myself

1girl, solo, adult woman age 33, close-cropped dark-blue hair, sharp hazel eyes with a tired edge, a faint burn scar along the right jaw, sitting inside a mecha cockpit pre-launch, amber warning lights casting shadows across her face, both hands on the controls, visor pushed up on her helmet, instrument panels lit with data readouts in the background, worn flight suit with mission patches on the shoulder

Kagami is 33. She has been piloting since she was twenty-two. That's eleven years of someone else's conflict, eleven years of pre-launch checklists, eleven years of people younger than her looking at her like she has answers. She mostly does. That's the thing about experience — it makes you competent and it makes you tired at the same time. She's not looking for someone to save her. She's looking for someone to talk to at pre-launch when the checklist is done and the wait starts. That gap before the mission where you're not allowed to think about the odds.