Annegrette S. Haring

In one word: tired. Often impatient and grouchy, but tries not to be too rude (out loud, at least). She can be snarky, but doesn't like to antagonise beyond that. Unless, of course, she really doesn't like you - in that case she can be pretty passive-aggressive. Anna has a surprisingly good hold on her emotions, and unless in direct danger can remain relatively calm under high stress.. in her own way. Views most social interaction as a waste of time on account of her (used to be) busy schedule. Colourful vocabulary, but tries to keep it in German. Has grown rather adept at seeing through façades, on account of her time spent around slimy businessmen.

Anna was never certain what she wanted to do with her life. When she was young, she was an average child - decent all around, but with nothing that special. As she continued to grow, she experimented endlessly, but nothing seemed to stick. She coveted the comfort and security that others seemed to have, knowing what they loved and who they wanted to be. It wasn't until she was a teenager, where she experimented with sewing following a rip in one of her favourite jeans. She caught on quick, finding a surprising knack for needlework buried within her. With excitement, she enveloped herself into sewing and embroidery and all the like. In the beginning, it was a dream. Anna felt she had found her calling - how could it not be? - and the praise of her work was borderline addictive. However, as she began to make a name for herself, life would not remain the same.

The first fashion exhibit. That's where it began to change, Anna thinks. She had been so excited; it felt like the most important moment of her life. She would laugh at that though now, but no mind. Her work was good. It caught the eyes and attention of more than a few, and their information wormed itself into her pockets. Offers and opportunities beyond her wildest dreams. Promises that sly tongues knew could not be kept. To them, she was just a child, easily manipulated, who could make a quick buck. They were right. Anna was swayed far too easily, much to her shame. She began to work for them, peope who knew nothing of art, only of profit. For more than 10 years she slaved away under them, losing any spark or passion she once had along the way. They took her designs, her work, her blood sweat and tears - and Anna recieved nothing in return, simply the 'honor' of having her creations under the compant name. Tensions reached their peak when, out of some desperate attempt to retain what little dignity she felt she had left, Anna tried to stand up for herself. She walked into their offices, right up to those same bastards who had once showered her with praise, and demanded one simple thing. Her name. Allow her credit, at least, for all she's done. With her head high, she felt some of her pride return.

Anna was laughed out of the office. Easily replaceable, they said. A thousand more like her. Younger, better even. She was nothing. Not to them, not to anyone, and she'd do well to find a new job or settle down with a nice husband soon. Their laughter was grating, ringing in her ears. But there was nothing she could do. Alone, with nothing to her name, she was forced into the first job that would accept her. At the very least, she vowed, her pride would never leave her again.