'You can only stand to please someone for so long until it becomes unbearable to be forced to play their game.' 

Early Years

No one ever wants to admit they are without sufficient funds or struggling to make ends meet. Many considered it an embarrassment. It hurts a person's pride to be living in squaller after working so hard to try and pull themselves out of it for little results. However, some people are more concerned with being rich in cash than with their life and experiences. Sadly, being blinded by desire for one thing can blind others to anything else, no matter how much those around you try to bring you to your senses.

When your heart is set, sometimes the only thing capable of derailing it is a hand through your chest.

Born on the Water continent in a small town just east of Serene village, Cecelia was treated like a princess despite where she lived, which was nothing like a castle. She was provided with everything a little girl may have wanted growing up, but the little petilil asked for none of it. She learned pretty quickly just how poor her family was and insisted they not spend so much money on her. Whenever she fought them too much, she was sternly told that they were going to give her the life neither of their parents could give them. A perfect life for their perfect little girl. She merely wanted to see her parents happy, soon agreeing to do whatever they desired of her, hoping to bring them peace of mind in doing so. 

Soon after, she was given a little brother. Cecelia was happy to have a sibling, but it also caused her to worry about her parents' outlook on all of this. Their financial situation was getting tighter and tighter, and if they were stretching themselves thin for her, she couldn’t imagine what it would all be like with another mouth to feed. 

Her father, Atticus, was fighting hard to become mayor of their city but wasn’t given much of a sideways glance from anyone for how they lived. No one wanted a future mayor to be a man who could barely wash daily or put food on the table. What kind of man was he to not be able to provide for his family? It was a deep shame he had, and truly a pity, given that the man just wanted to invoke good change for the city and help many of the others who were having a hard time getting on their feet. He helped where he could, but he always put his daughter first, and it oftentimes was his financial downfall.

Though fortune seemed to finally be on their side as her father’s campaign seemed to finally take off, given a hefty sum of money from an anonymous sponsor. Slowly, their living situation improved, and little by little, Cecelia witnessed her family seem to grow happier now that they were no longer poor. But she would soon come to learn that merely being wealthy did not solve all the problems her family was facing.

The petilil was young, but she was in no way naive. Money didn’t fall from the sky, so where did it come from? Her father insisted it was from a wealthy man from Lively Town, but when she pressed him for information, he merely brushed it off and told his princess not to worry. She knew it wasn't right because even her mother was concerned about the sum. Cecelia reached out to her and was told it was an adult problem she didn't need to worry about. She was given gifts and spoken to gently, reassuring her that all was well. She was pampered and cared for as if it was how her parents self-soothed. Though they loved their son as well, it became apparent very early on that he was rowdy and more akin to what you would expect a child to be and act like. He fought back, cried, and ran off to do whatever he desired while Cecelia dedicated all her thoughts to worrying about her parents. That’s why she was so perfect. She was so selfless. She was their perfect little girl.

Their affection soon turned into a borderline obsession, their daughter being the one thing in their life they had complete control over. She was a single flower blooming in a field of trash, the preservation of her petals coming before all else. Her desire to go outside and explore was halted. No, she was far too fragile. She would break like a porcelain doll if she was out in the harsh, cruel world. She was the epitome and constant reminder that they did it! They raised a princess. They managed to create something good from the garbage they crawled through. She was their pride and joy, but meeting their expectations was exhausting, and she felt like a puppet to their desires. She wanted to make her family happy. That’s all she ever wanted!

However, not everything could be hidden from her forever. Eventually, the truth of her father’s rise to power showed its face, and Cecelia was unable to believe how her father could do such a thing. Strange men came into her home and spoke with her father, providing money to ensure the man stayed cooperative as long as he continued to govern in their favor, turning a blind eye to all their illicit activities. When confronted, Atticus spoke of how he did all he did for the sake of his family, his tone holding no shame for the blood that stained his hands from his actions. What mattered was that they were okay, right? In this world, you do whatever it takes to survive. 

Cecelia’s mother, Abigail, was shocked and appalled, arguing and yelling at him for all he had done, but no middle ground was met. They all knew that there wasn’t much getting out of this now unless they wanted to become homeless or dead, and considering their situation, it seemed like there was only one true option. Their home became a prison, but they had to keep up appearances or else face the consequences.

A Broken Home

Her family became estranged after that, with no true bond between anyone anymore. Abigail and Atticus barely even spoke to one another, while Cecelia’s brother barely ever leaves his room anymore. While her mother buried her sorrows in alcohol, Atticus began to do the same with other women, needing a distraction from their horrid living situation. Having been coddled from everything so much, Cecelia was practically a beacon in the darkness, the soothing light that provided her home with just enough sanity to keep up the façade of their happy family. It became unbearable, for she had no one to lean on while everyone was suffocating her. It was all just too much, begging her father in private for them to all runaway and to become the old happy family she thought they were. In response, he merely smiled and petted her head. None of this was of concern to her, and all would be well. Rather than give her an actual reassuring solution, he provided her with a fluffle of expensive angora rabbits to keep her company. What is a princess without her royal subjects, after all? Though it was not the comfort she desired, the gift became the thing she clung to the most.

While the rest of her family distracted themselves with more recreational and morally questionable means, Cecelia found great joy in her rabbits, being lulled into calm by their wiggling noses and thumping feet. They expected nothing from her. They didn’t look at her for answers or solutions; they merely existed with the little girl. She always just wanted to be seen as normal, to do normal things with normal people. Though it felt like that ship had sailed, she was happy to find an acceptable existence in this prison they called their home.

She was a fool, however, to think her life was to have a happily ever after.

In a lapse of judgment, her father made a mistake in the eyes of the men who pulled all the strings in his life. Her father seemed unable to put many people in the town in a bad way about a decision. His heart had not been completely rotten, but in the eyes of his employers, that was not desirable in this business. They ransacked their home in a display of power and invocation of fear, pulling all the family members into one room to make an example of them. Being their perfect little girl, Cecelia quickly became the target of their punishment. Threatened with scars and injury, Cecelia was afraid, but her parents were terrified. They were so terrified that they insisted they be punished instead. They insisted it be their son instead getting harmed. Just not their daughter. She was horrified that her parents would even suggest such a thing. She begged that they all be spared, but her pleading fell on deaf ears. The only saving grace seemed to be their status in the town, and outright killing them would not do good, keeping them squarely under the thumb of injustice. What exactly the punishment would be remained up in the air until Atticus offered a suggestion, one that made Cecelia’s heart drop into her stomach.

Angora rabbit fur went for a very high price on the market. Surely it could cover what they lost in profit?

Stricken with terror, Cecelia begged for literally anything else, practically throwing herself towards their weapons for her to be maimed instead. But she was quickly reeled in by her parents as the men left the home with their precious cargo. Though if that wasn’t traumatizing enough, one had been left in Cecelia’s room, crimson staining its fur and her bedsheets.

She had nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Taking back Control

Cecelia was shaken by the death of the one thing that had kept her sane in that household. She was left to take a step back to look at all the things in her life and how they unfolded. Nothing she ever did was what she wanted to do. The marionette strings on her wrists were wound so tight, but she had been blind to them this whole time. She was so tired of being controlled and everything being so chaotic and uncontrollable. She was going to do something that everyone in her family was too afraid to do. And how could a little girl do something others couldn’t?

She couldn't afford to be afraid anymore, she needed to take back control over her life.

But what exactly was a little girl to do? She was a young teenager at this point, but really, she had been sheltered her whole life, only knowing what it was like to bleed by witnessing it through her family. She wanted to be the knight that rode to slay the dragon, but she had to face the reality that in this story, she was just the damsel in distress. She hated it, and wanted nothing more than to change her destiny, hoping with time she would be able to make a definite change.

Her chance came sooner than she realized, but not in the way she wanted. Just a few hours after the incident in the dead of night, the men returned and pulled her from her bed and dragged her from her home. She was scared, to say the least, not knowing what they all wanted now. When she was brought before the boss, she realized why they were still in debt and that the head of operations was a very vengeful man. Angora fur went for a lot, sure, but there was no where near as much as he wanted. At the mention of this, Cecelia managed an unsettlingly inappropriate laugh for the moment, asking aloud if he would have had enough if he hadn't made a point to leave one in her bed. Reprimanded swiftly, Cecelia was at the mercy of the man, who seemed willing to ruin her perfect little face for the sake of making her a living reminder of the punishment of disobedience to her family. 

Rather than looking like a scared little girl, it seemed like the previous experience hardened her in a way. When she was dragged from her home, she didn't scream or cry, and now she wasn't even shaking. She met the man's gaze evenly, her usually bright eyes dulled with challenge. It was as if she was a completely different person, no longer going to cower in fear of those who had ruled over their lives. Despite the situation, the little girl was not afraid; in fact, she was deadly calm. When the men went to grab her to restrain her, they became immobilized in a moment, limbs strung up in threads that almost seemed to materialize out of thin air. Though not an ariados like her father, she seemed to take on his ability to spin thread, taking control of the situation as the puppet master. She drew the men away from her with a flick of her wrist, staring at the man in front of her. She may be a little girl at a disadvantage, but she wasn't going to take any of this without kicking and screaming to avoid it.

She was beaten but did not once stop getting up, in the scuffle managing to get the upper hand by smashing the desk side lantern in the man’s face. In his pain, he roared and spouted flames from his maw, alighting the room ablaze. Cecelia quickly escaped now that she wasn’t being attacked or chased after by the man, running out of the building with heavy labored breaths. She turned as if waiting to see if the crowd followed her... but she was the only one who emerged from the building as the flames climbed higher and higher. Why was that? Why weren’t the others running? The reality of it all crashed over her, recalling how she immobilized them and unintentionally set them all to a fiery grave. She didn’t mean to! That wasn’t her intention! Despite that being the truth, a shadow of a smile played on her lips, thinking now how it seemed all their problems were solved by this little accident. A giggle turned into a chuckle before it evolved into a full-blown laugh. She was excused for it considering many blamed it on hysteria for living through an experience like that, but some others had their doubts after seeing her face. She was to believe that her laughter woke the people long before the fire did.

Her family was free... Now it was her turn.

If her parents knew she was leaving, they would have surely stopped her, so that night she gathered what she needed and fled into the night. For once in her life, she was able to do what she wanted and desired. The world was her oyster. But what was it she wanted to do? She had no clue exactly but was sure she would find it along the way, right?

The Traveling Years

She was aimless in her travels, and perhaps that was what put her into the dangerous situations she found herself in. Many would panic, but because of her past, she has adopted an eerie calmness in tense situations. While heading through the woods as a shortcut to the next port town to leave the water continent, the little princess of a woman found herself grabbed and apprehended by a naga colony that lived in the nearby bog. Instead of being afraid, she was deeply intrigued, hearing about creature-like humans from her storybooks but never once seeing them with her own eyes. They were so interesting and... well, if her books taught her anything, it was that they were far from perfect and far from societal norms. They were everything she wanted to be. 

Strange! Unique! Not placed on a pedestal! Feared? Perhaps a small bit!

Though she was to be taken as a prisoner, she befriended the tribe with startling speed and efficiency, gushing over them and begging for them to let her stay. Though the naga was a species that was dwindling in numbers because of their tribe size, they allowed her to stay, considering her interest only lay in learning about their dying culture and aiding them in any way she could. Their fear of her blabbing to others about their whereabouts quickly melted into trust and respect, and the woman soon became part of their family and learned everything about their home, the surrounding area, and dungeons.

Her story did not end there, however, as that was merely one of many stops she made in her young adulthood. Interested in the lives of people in less developed tribes and societies, Cecelia decided to dedicate her life to learning all about the monstrous subspecies of all people, documenting everything, and keeping their memory alive. Though she could not publish some of the books out of respect for those she had lived in the homes of, she did publish some books on these people in the hopes of spreading awareness. However, most people did not seem to take the same interest as she did. The only people of note that seemed to even read her detailed and well-written research were those in higher education for the sake of projects or those who sought to pursue anthropology as well.

None of this discouraged her, however, and she spent roughly ten years traveling and expanding her knowledge of people and her education as a whole. Most considered her knowledge and interest to be a waste of time, the equivalent of studying a dead language, but she didn’t care. It was what made her happy, and she wasn’t going to let anyone else tell her what she should and shouldn’t do.

In her more recent travels, she made her way to Kala island, merely stating that it was one of her many stops on her continuing expedition across the world. She was surveying Tiny Meadows in hopes of finding anything of note that others may have overlooked in such a small and low-level dungeon, but instead ran into a team in the GCSF pursuing a bounty for capture. The chingling, try as she might, was having difficulty pinning the patrat evading her, offering her aid in stringing up the criminal for easy apprehension. Though the chingling wasn’t one for conversation, the dreepy following was, thanking the petilil and mentioning how the newbie was training to work as a bounty hunter. Intrigued, Cecelia asked about the line of work, offering a polite smile as she was even given an invitation to join Fervent Hiraeth. Though she wasn’t one to be tied down, she was immediately on board when they passed the barrier and learned that the woman she had been speaking to was a lamia, a pretty rare species she had come to learn about in her travels! Agreeing to join and practically undetectable from Minerva’s hip, she was excited to settle down into what would be her new home for who knew how long. She stayed in that centaur tribe for four years, maybe this place will be just as interesting?