Fin's story began in an unstable home. Her mother worked tirelessly as a cleaning lady, scrubbing floors and dusting homes for meager wages. Her father, a man of big dreams but poor financial sense, had managed to open a small store. However, his lack of budgeting skills and the debts he accrued quickly caught up with him, leading to the store's inevitable bankruptcy. It was a blow from which the family never recovered.

Fin was around 12 when she met Odile — another street kid who spent most of her free time running outside. Together, they became inseparable. They shared cheap sandwiches, dared each other into old tunnels and crumbling buildings, and moved through the world like they had nothing but each other. In a life that rarely offered safety, Odile felt like something close to it. One night, Fin's mother caught them climbing back through the window and didn’t need to hear a word to make up her mind. To her, Odile was a bad influence. The reason Fin’s grades were slipping, the spark behind her sudden defiance and constant vanishing acts. The decision came swift and sharp: Odile was off-limits. Fin tried to fight it. For a while, she and Odile found ways to stay connected, stealing moments and sending messages in secret. But the space between them only grew. Not by choice, but by force. And eventually, the silence settled in and they lost touch. Though Fin never stopped thinking about her friend.

At the age of 15, Fin made the difficult decision to drop out of school. The household needed more income, and she couldn’t bear to see her mother struggle alone. She took on various jobs, delivering mail and packages, and handled most of the household chores, especially when her parents were too busy drowning their sorrows in alcohol.

It was during this time when something extraordinary happened. Fin discovered she possessed a power of the owl mythos. This gift gave her the ability to glimpse into the future, to see visions of what was yet to come. She could also transform herself into a fearsome owl-beast, a creature of the night with sharp talons and piercing eyes. In her human form, she kept her wings hidden, tied to her back like a secret too dangerous to reveal. Parts of her skin covered in pale feathers, she had been changed, forever. As neither her or her parents were at home most of the time, it was easy to keep this a secret. And she did, fearing their reaction. What if they couldn't handle seeing their daughter changing into a beast, on top of all of their other problems? No, instead, she used her newfound abilities to hustle on the streets, making money through gambling or offering fortunes to those willing to pay. For a while, it seemed like she had finally found a way to control her life. Or so it seemed to a young mind. However, that all changed soon after.

After the bankruptcy, her father was rarely home, and one day, he simply never returned. Fin believed that he had abandoned them out of shame, unable to face the family after his financial failures. Not long after, her mother succumbed to untreated health issues, her body and spirit worn down by years of toil and neglect. At least, that’s what Fin was told. With no extended family to turn to and no desire to end up in an orphanage, Fin chose the streets instead. The grief of losing her parents was buried under the more immediate need to stay alive. She pushed the pain deep down, focusing on the present and what she needed to do to keep going. For a while, she used to sleep at a homeless shelter, sometimes resorting to living in the city tunnels when privacy was needed and hard to come by. Living off of scraps and looking for a job in the meantime.

After all of these years, Fin never truly stopped thinking about Odile, wondering where she was, what kind of life she ended up building without her. Then, one rainy evening, while sitting alone on a bench in a homeless shelter, she saw her. Odile. Older, sharper, confident in the way she moved. Fin knew it was her instantly, even after all that time. Odile stared for a moment, taking her in. Fin could feel it. She must have looked different. Thinner. Ragged. Still, something in Odile softened. She sat beside her without a word. Eventually, Fin spoke. She told Odile the truth about losing her parents and how tough life has been. And to Fin's surprise, Odile offered her a place. Not just a bed or a warm meal, but a way back into the game. By being part of her gang. It would offer her a structure. Protection. But Fin said no. After spending a year and something enduring life on the streets and being a witness to what happens to unfortunate gang members, she couldn't do it. And she didn’t judge her friend for her choices. She understood all too well the desperation that drove people to such business. Odile didn’t press her. She just kept showing up. Dropping by with coffee, with silence, with conversation that danced between meaningless and intimate. Piece by piece, they began to rebuild what had been torn apart. Not as it was before, but as something else. Something new. Something deeper.

Sometimes, when Fin caught Odile looking at her, she felt it... that pull. They weren’t just friends anymore. Not in the way they used to be. They were something else. Something deeper. In a world that never gave them anything, they chose each other. It made her nervous. It made her want to stay. But always, she kept a part of herself held back. Not out of mistrust, but fear. Fear that revealing the truth about what she was would ruin everything they’d carefully rebuilt. But eventually, it was unbearable. The hiding, the loneliness, the possibility that Odile might accept her as she is after all. So one night, Fin unzipped her jacket and let the wings unfurl. Not halfway. Not subtly. Fully. And Odile stared, wide-eyed, mouth parted. Not in horror, but in quiet awe. She stepped forward, slowly, as if moving through a dream. Her fingers reached out, brushing the base of one wing like she’d known it all along. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered. And for a moment, Fin felt seen, wholly, completely. They talked. About the wings. The transformation. Fin told her everything. It was the best night in Fin's life. Seeing she wasn't wrong about Odile after all. That she can trust her wholeheartedly with this secret.

However, just hours after the revelation, she found that Odile doesn't remember a thing. At first, she thought it was a bad joke. Fin searched her face for some flicker of recognition, a memory, anything. But it was gone. Sealed behind the Mist. And the exact same pattern would repeat, no matter how many times Fin decided to reveal her wings. Sometimes it took Odile longer to forget; sometimes it was mere minutes. Whenever there was hope that things might've improved, it was taken away. Frustration clawed at Fin's chest. Not at Odile, never at Odile, but at whatever was making her forget. Grief filled the back of her mind whenever they were together. Still, Fin tried to treasure the moments they shared, even if it meant she had to lose her again tomorrow.

When Fin was 19, they came. The strange people in suits who spoke of wealth, power, and a life far removed from the grimy streets. They promised her something more, something that glittered with the allure of a world she had never known. All in exchange for her talents. They offered her a position with a wealthy conglomerate, the Fowler Holdings... a chance to step into high society. Fin made one demand: that Odile, the one person she had ever truly trusted, could come with her. They agreed, and without fully understanding the consequences, she signed the contract that would seal her fate. She was uneducated in the ways of the rich, the legalese in those documents might as well have been written in another language. She had no idea that in signing, she was binding herself to a life of servitude, where her every move was controlled by those who considered themselves above her.

For a while, it seemed like they'd won the lottery. For Fin, the position seemed promising. All she had to do was use her divination powers to make predictions to help with the business. Getting insight into the market and trading, value of commodities and assets, corporate espionage... That was the way of the rich and powerful, wasn't it? And in exchange, the food was plentiful, the clothes clean, and the dangers of the streets seemed a distant memory. Both Fin and Odile got in the habit of indulging in exclusive parties, mingling with the rich and famous. They danced through the nights, enjoying their time in the spotlight while it lasted.

However, the reality of her new life was far from the freedom she had imagined. Instead, she became a gilded bird in a cage. Her wings still hers, but tethered by invisible chains she couldn’t break. Only valued for her prophetic powers that the wealthy made use out of. The cracks soon began to show. The gilded cage was still a cage, and the high society she had once envied was nothing more to her than a different kind of prison. Her freedom was an illusion. Soon, the stress and pressure became too much. The were forcing her to invoke visions more and more, until she couldn't bear it. That's when her addiction problems started developing in an attempt to enhance her visions or in turn numb the overload. But it didn't work. She started giving inaccurate readings of her visions, which lead the higher-ups to suspect that she's trying to undermine them on purpose. Being bribed by a rival company or something of the sort. There were interrogations, but there was never any evidence. Up until Odile decided to go behind her back and confirming their suspicions. She betrayed Fin. The one person she thought she could rely on, turned on her. The betrayal cut deep, leaving Fin scarred in ways that couldn’t be healed. After that, Fin attempted to escape the Fowlers two times, but always got caught by their lackeys. The third time, she managed to break free for good. She ran from the life that had ensnared her, but she had nowhere to go except back to where she had started: the cold, unfeeling streets. They have her once again. But this time, they seem even harsher. The betrayal, the loss, the bitterness... they’ve all settled into her bones, making her distrustful and paranoid. She no longer believes in the kindness of strangers, seeing it as a prelude to another trap. She hates the wealthy with a burning intensity, convinced that their hands are always outstretched, ready to pull her back into the life she escaped.

To dull the pain, she did what her parents always did — turning to alcohol and drugs, substances that quiet the cacophony of her mind and the relentless visions that her powers force upon her. She wanders the city streets and tunnels, a shadow of her former self, searching for meaning.

Fin's perspective is shaped by the hardship they experienced, a lack of trust in authorities, and a belief that the world is inherently cruel. They don't view violence as inherently evil but rather as a tool. It doesn’t mean they don’t feel guilt or regret, but it won't stop them from doing things that are necessary.

"Out here on the streets, the rules ain't the same as in your safe little world. People talk about laws, about morals, about right and wrong, but those things don’t mean much when you’re starving, when someone’s got a knife to your throat, or when the only thing keeping you from being the next body in the alley is how fast you are with your fists. I didn’t ask for this life. I didn’t choose to be born into a world where the strong take what they want and the weak get stepped on. But once you understand the game, you either play it, or you lose. And losing? That means you don’t eat. That means you freeze in the winter while somebody else takes the coat off your back. When the world don’t give you a way out, when the system treats you like you’re nothing, you make your own way. And sometimes, that means doing things others don’t have the stomach for. People who’ve never lived this life, they judge. They talk about choices like we all got the same ones. But when your choices are starve or steal, kill or be killed, what kind of ‘choice’ is that? I ain’t saying I like it. I ain't saying it’s fair. But out here, fair don't mean a damn thing. Staying alive does."

"People love to talk about gangs like they’re just a bunch of monsters running wild, but they don’t see the full picture. Gangs ain’t just criminals; they’re part of life. They’re the ones who control the streets, decide who gets to hustle, who stays safe, and who don’t. If you grow up here, you don’t get a choice about dealing with them. You either know somebody in a gang, owe somebody in a gang, or you end up on the wrong side of one. Gang violence makes life hell. You can’t walk down certain blocks without watching your back. People die for nothing out here. Over pride, over money, over ‘respect.’ And the worst part? Cops don’t care. They show up after the body’s cold, act like we did this to ourselves, and then leave like nothing ever happened. At the same time, you gotta understand — when you’re poor, gangs are sometimes the only ones offering protection. Ain’t no government programs keeping the lights on, ain’t no jobs hiring kids with no diploma, and sure as hell ain’t no rich folks investing in these neighbourhoods. But a gang? They’ll put money in your pocket if you work for them. They’ll make sure nobody messes with your family, so long as you stay loyal. Yeah, it’s dangerous. Yeah, it ruins lives. But when the world gives you nothing and the gang gives you something, what do you expect people to do? Worst part of it are the top dogs. If you really look at it, they’re just businessmen. Just like the ones in suits downtown. The only difference is the product they’re selling and the rules they play by. They got their own economy, their own way of handling disputes, their own way of climbing the ladder. And just like in any business, the people at the top get rich while the ones at the bottom do all the dirty work. They don’t really care about the people in the neighbourhood. They act like they do. Like they’re taking care of the community. But at the end of the day, they only care about keeping their operation running. They recruit kids because kids are easy to manipulate, easy to throw away. A 15-year-old with no money, no father, and no future? He’s the perfect worker. You promise him respect, protection, a little bit of cash, and he’ll do whatever you ask. He’ll run drugs, he’ll carry a gun, he’ll take the fall if he gets caught. When he gets locked up or killed, they just find another one to take his place. It’s not much different from how rich people treat workers in factories and offices. They use people up and replace them when they’re no longer useful. The only difference is that in the streets, you don’t get a severance package. You get a casket. But the cycle keeps going because as long as people are desperate, there will always be someone willing to take the risk. Despite it all, I get it. The system failed us, so they made their own system. It’s just a shame that the ones who pay the price are always the ones who had the least to begin with."

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