Jump to content

Eluta Kontaveit, who once was.

Recommended Posts

i hate anyone who asked for this

Eluta Kontaveit


[rough sketch, done before basic. who gives a shit.]



Character Summary
Chaotic Evil

Renegade<████████ | ████████>Paragon

   Awful<███████|██████|██████>Not Awful




"All my opps be warned, I'm eatin' my veggies and gettin' big and strong."


Name: Eluta Varvaara Kontaveit
Aliases: Contraband, CUNTaveit, Kont.
Age: 18
Birthday: May 17
Ethnicity: Estonian
Birth Planet: Kredia
Heritage: Kredian
Hometown: Ahmovaara (Later, Sigma-Nine-Nine Flotilla)
Gender: Female
Specialization: Medical(Formerly), MIPOD.
Height: 5'8
Weight: Somewhere between 'Psychic Frail' and 'Bodybuilder Muscular'
Build: Like a Disney Mom, if they weren't hot at all
Eyes: Amber
Hair: Black
Skin Tone: Pale






Unorthodox * Schizophrenic * Comedic * Problematic



Marital Status: Unmarried



  • Not Listening
  • Drinking(recent addition)
  • Making Jokes
  • Schizophrenic Tangents




  • Making Problems
  • Doing Problems
  • Seeing Problems
  • Music




  • That thing that happens when your heartrate drops while you're asleep and you feel like you're falling
  • Yogurt, specifically in tube form
  • Heights




  • Sebastian Bently
  • Her Chums
  • Making Trouble
  • Practicality
  • Diet Pepsi
  • Cold Climates




  • Sugar
  • Sand
  • Miss Dimitrijevic
  • Warm Climates
  • Degenerates
  • Seriousness
  • Power Armor


Criminal Record:


  • Petty Theft
  • Petty Theft
  • Petty Theft
  • Petty Theft
  • Obstruction of Justice
  • 1x Murder Investigation



Important Traits:
Exists - 
She is alive, functioning, and sentient.
MIPOD - She is a Talent. This means she has Talent.
Is a Kredian - She thinks she's better than you. Why? She doesn't know, either.
Exists - She is alive, functioning, and sentient. That blows chunks.

Character Relations:

(I might do requests. Maybe.)
Idol(ized)/ More Friend / Friend / Neutral / Dislike / More Dislike / Absolute Hatred


S. Bently: My hero. Even now, I keep him on his pedestal. I hope to be a leader like that, one day. He keeps my morale up. He's aight.

E. Dimitrijevic: My ex-boss. I thought she was insane for being so disconnected from us. I understand why, now. He's aight.

K. Larson: Legs. Stopped talking to me after her internal squabble. I thought we were tighter than that. Guess not. He's aight.

E. Yaroshenko: Transferred out when I got my footing. Unfortunate. I liked having her around; she was someone weird like me. He's aight.

B. Falkner: Officer Cadet. I put my life on the line to save hers; but she's not around anymore. I miss being giddy, and having fun. He's aight.

S. Bishop: My underling, now. Bit problematic - but that's what months of not moving does to a work-horse. We'll fix it, I hope. Mint woman needs it. He's aight.

L. Armistead: Gone, much like everyone else. Tsk. Don't mind much, we were never close. Goodbye. He's aight.

A. Matsui: Back. I missed her more than I'll ever say; and I cried when I saw her. I hope she stays around. We need people like her. He's aight.

R. Acharya-Patel: Mentor. Left with the rest. She did good at not letting me care; because I don't miss her. Goodbye, Patty. He's aight.

E. Shepard: Terminal First Class. Left with Rye. I miss having him around - all of his wisdoms and willingness to laugh. He's aight.

H-Y. Yang: Mom. Gone. Do I miss her? Maybe. I'm not sure anymore. Everyone left - and she was no exception. He's aight.

B. Reinmann: Doctor. First person to show some semblance of care towards me. He's stayed true. I like him. He's aight.

G. Beaumanoir: Sawed-Off Frenchman. Literally haven't communicated in months. He's probably okay. He's aight.

M. Henley: Pathfinder. Took her shit and dipped when the going got rough. Makes sense why I hate Pathfinders. He's aight.

A. Rye: Older brother. Not formally; but spiritually. He left. I miss him. He's aight.

D. Phillips: Medico, that seemingly left. I miss him quite often. Vanished in the night, never to be seen again. Good emotional support gone. He's aight.

C. Newman: Literally who. I think I've seen her around-- maybe? She might have been that Medic who kept staring at me- I don't know. He's aight.

J. Damien: A developing man, finding his way. He wasn't as lost as I thought; he's just like that. Weird, but vibing fellow. I like him. Hope he stays around. He's aight.

I. Konvalenko: Kredian. Left like the rest. Miss her more than the rest, though. Wish she'd taken the mantle, not me. He's aight.

A. Myers: Pretty-Boy. Birth-rite Kredian. He left. I miss him quite often. He's aight.

R. Lavigne: Frenchie. Haven't seen her. Probably left. I don't blame her. He's aight.

A. Kontaveit: Brat'ya. My older brother. I shouldn't have to say more than that. Weird, how children can be separated, but end up the exact same. Love him. He's aight.

A.J. Suen: Gook-boy. Funny, sometimes. Annoying, others. Curious, that. Good heart on him- stupid mind. Chinese wisdom overlooked him. Hopefully I can help. He's aight.

K. Lu: Hathorian. Addict. He thinks I don't know- odd. Elsewise, he's good company. Easy to speak to - relatable. I wish he had alternatives. He'd be a good man. He's aight.

Y. Nakamura: Weird. Around with that Newman girl. Likely a couple- polygamous? I hate that I have nothing else to say; nothing notable. I'm sure she's a good girl. He's aight.

M. Asuka: Locked me up. Tried to-- bully me? Matsui vouches for her. Continued to, despite issues. Fun to be around. Corsair. I missed her more than I'll say. He's aight.

L. Beaufort: Fleetie. I'm supposed to hate guys like him. I quite like him, even if he locked me up. I hope he's doing good out there. He's aight.

R. Whitlock: Captain. He's a good man - got a good head on his shoulders. He seems like a good Captain, in my eyes. I'll miss him. He's aight.


Dead Homies:


Cal Aspira


Tried and true; the Wasp of the century. She's helped me learn a good few things, and was a safety-net for me during a tough time.

Now, however; she's dead. It's a difficult thing to comprehend- the first of my friends to drop, and it was Thunder. Thunder. She always seemed so... Safe on drops. She did a dangerous job, mind you, but she always seemed the safest out of the lot of us. It's hard. I miss her. I want her back. It's like a divide happened- a bridge between being alive, and living. I have other friends - but Thunder's loss is the one that I can already tell will stick with me for life. The hit that puts you down is the one you don't see coming.


Love you, Thunder.



He was aight.


Jericho Cross


The main cheese. Not a lot of people can keep up with me, or my antics - but Cross can hold the pace and barely break a sweat. Cheese-hicular Man's Laughter, so to speak.


Dead, now. Supposedly never even saw it coming. I read the after-action. I wish the Medics knew what the fuck they were doing. I wish they hadn't put Recruits onto Skywatch. I wish I wasn't reverse-shift. There's a lot of wishes I have with things like this. Dudes who die for no real reason. There were so many steps people could have taken to avoid him dying - but none of them took them. A reinforced hatred for the Non-Comms of the boat. A reinforced hatred of Medical. All things I lie to myself about. I don't hate them-- but it's easier to hate them, than accept that it was just... His time, I guess.

I'll un-jinx the janx, bratishka.

He was aight.



Ending Tale


So; the Kredian Menace stepped off of the Basilone in a quiet manner. Only the Colonel Naomi Hawthorne came to pick her up; 'no big deal' as she so eloquently put it.

But it wasn't quite the case, was it?

The fact of the matter was; war was hell. This is a phrase regurgitated since the beginning of modern conventional warfare; and it lives through, all the way into the Third Bug War. The cushy job for the Ministry of Paranormal Warfare - researching and developing Psychic anecdotes to help boost the person's capabilities for FFRL; the pay, the job, the peers and leaders -- everything was exactly as expected, but not what she wanted.

War was hell.

Despite all of these positives; nothing could clear her head. Everything she knew was too imperative to simply gloss over with a Memory-Man, and psychologists can only do so much for youths who had seen so little, outside of war. Sat in her comfortably-temperate office, the clacking of her keyboard would oft turn to the cracking of gunfire. The smell of charred flesh- the sights and sounds of people on the receiving end of the Arachnid's worst.

To wander the streets of Iskander during her time away from her Lunar workspace; but never finding solace. Over time, she would become recessive - less confident - less sure of her movements. The streets - crowded with people - reflections bounding off of stores' windows; she couldn't find the beauty in life, because she was too worried about the horrors of war. Why wasn't she being shot? When were the shots going to ring? Why was everyone smiling about nothing? Where were the enemy? Who in this crowd was trying to kill her? Someone is trying to kill you, Eluta--


Her desk. The A/C unit, attached to the corner of the room, purring. Her screen flickered with all forms of lethargic templates and reports. Her hands shook uncontrollably - and there was little she could do to combat it. A huff, and a puff - externally. Every day repeated itself the same. The panic- not from the thoughts of gunfire, explosions, or death -- but from the lack of it.

Her home; a luxurious place, more than enough to house the Kredian street-rat that was. Memoirs of days gone; an oddity for a now-nineteen year-old to go through. Her job wasn't what she dreamt it would be. Commissioned in the Ministry, doing most of her work for FFRL- it wasn't the glory that she thought it were. The hoops she had to go through, it seemed, just to wipe her own ass - the bureaucracy drove her nuts. She'd rub her hands in her doorway, nervously- scared of the home she had created, with her own two hands, and brain.

Perhaps, in these moments, she would wish to go back in time -- to take Barrett's @chronos offer. The responsibilities of home, however, were too much for her to give up on at the time. Lies spoken - steps into her home, to begin to make herself something to eat. She was never free from it; the regrets, or differing choices she would have liked to make. A hard-capped ceiling in her growth, with a dastardly cliff underneath her feet.

These moments, it was Falkner @Jinny that kept her sane. The thing she wished to flaunt - but never could. The accomplishment she were most proud of. A comfort, in what felt like a draining life. A light. The woman was full of passion and care for Eluta, but, it wasn't exactly what she needed. Every waking moment alongside her filled with giddy glee - but every sleeping night to turn out the same.

Hands on her shoulders, stirring her awake. Falkner was disturbed in her sleep - the panicked breathing and kicking had woken her up. Reluctantly, Eluta would bare responsibility and shuffle into the living room -- to spend another night on the couch. It wasn't what Falkner wanted, initially - but how many sleep-deprived nights was Eluta going to make that wonderful woman suffer? None. She'd sentence herself to the proverbial dog-house. Sleep was a pipe-dream, now. The guilt of issues unresolved; the pot had called the kettle black one too many times, and now, she laid in the waxing hours of the morning - dreading the sun's arrival through her windows.

In these moments; it was likely memoirs of the past that got her to an amiable state. People like Cross @m40a3aimbot, or Valentino @Northvanguy to occupy the forefront of her mind. How she missed them - the days of squatting in the showers, eating hot-pockets. The promises she had made - and failed to keep. All of this; until the first rays of light broke through her blinds.

Another day; dreading her return to her job. Another day, unable to bask in the light of the world. People like Bently @OpTiCFaZeSoCkzZz worked as an inspiration; someone she was able to look at, for hope of a better future. A better life. She had been led astray, however. She was not the same as her childhood heroes; this wasn't the job for her. This wasn't the goal she should have worked towards.

Her brittle bones sat upon the stool of a coffee shop. She watched Falkner speak of her day - the glories it promised for the woman -- but she felt no drive for it. Words of apology offered from Larson @Australis kept haunting the back of her mind. Had she left friends behind, for the false presentation of a better life? Had she already lived through the golden days?

Reinmann @Jack. He'd know how to fix this. The old man knew everything there was to know- but how fucking shameful were she? He had already given her kindness; a push towards being social, to craft the life she had created for herself. His words of pride for her fell on deaf ears, now. She wasn't proud of this. None of this.

This was how she lived - every day. Every day, the itch of self-inflicting a gunshot into her own noggin raked through her mind like a venereal disease that simply wouldn't release it's grasp. Every day, she wished that Matsui @Valkrae would come save her-- but as the days passed, those memories of Matsui running towards her turned to wishes that Matsui, too, had not noticed her getting flung. Had left her to die.

Or, the thoughts of Rye and Shepard @Randynand @OddPixel. Her older brothers - not like Ardi, but something tight. She loved them dearly - and that love alone would make her question the suicidal thoughts that prevailed -- but she was never able to beat them back. Not with sword, knife, nor Morita. Every night; the same. The itching thought that, maybe, just maybe, she would be better off dead.

It never came, though. The fruitless wishes of self-release never found themselves - and in this moment, she wondered how Asuka @Dark was doing with all of this. A woman with more guilt, visibly, than Kontaveit. A woman with so much hope and aspiration- was she alright? Was she struggling with the same thing? She'd hope that the woman had turned out alright, on her home-world. Hathor must be nice, by now. A weaning moment of happiness; remembering the ocean. The ocean that made her miss Kredia, all the more.

What about Damien @Xaero_SSTRP? Was he doing alright? She worried for him more than she let on- how many times had he made her watch that Equilibrium movie? Was it supposed to be something to look into? A light in his inner machinations? She fretted - praying to whatever God would listen, to make sure he was alright. He was such a good man, and deserved nothing less.


Thoughts of Dimitrijevic @Mist plagued her, as she shuffled her way through the shopping mall - pale, sleep deprived, and dauntingly insecure now. The woman who had given Eluta everything, and asked for little in return. Was a professional healer like her capable of helping? Was this even an ailment that could be cured? Eluta thought of everything that Elysia had told her - to be careful of links, to be careful of how deep she went - or she'd end up a statistic. She hoped that, one day, she'd find the courage to reach out to her mentor.

It didn't matter, in the end. Rumors of another Psychic cropping up, having died in their sleep would hit ears; to those who cared, it would have been Eluta. She'd have died six months before her twentieth birthday, in the confines of her home. Upon the couch that became her bed over time - strewn out next to a uniform she stopped caring for, with dried blood coating her face -- but her blood had black splotches in it. With any hope - Hawthorne @Nyx wouldn't be blamed for it. She liked Hawthorne. That woman was more than available; one of the only people who was willing, and made Eluta comfortable enough to discuss her issues with. With any luck - it'd be brushed under the rug, as another Psychic getting burnt-out far too soon.

To her brother, Ardi @Dimov, she would have felt regret for, for making him suffer a link-breakage, if she was aware of what was happening. She wasn't, at the end of it all, however. No; she had spent the night curling through memories and thoughts of better days - among her Corsairs, bellowing sea-shanties and un-aliving Arachnids. In the end, she was nothing more than a statistic.

After all, not everyone got a happy story, and God hates Psychics.


"Speak out in a different language"


"Don't mind, I can't take my eyes off it"


"We were wanting to grow up every weekend"


"Now we're watching the moments as they're leaving"


  • Like 3
  • Winner 2
  • Sad 2
Link to comment
  • 2 weeks later...
  • LoFiSuicide changed the title to PSYOPS Deathsquad; Kontaveit
  • 2 weeks later...
  • LoFiSuicide changed the title to Eluta Kontaveit, who once was.
This topic is now closed to further replies.
  • Create New...