Piper Chaya

Piper is my Child-who's-been-unwillingly-experimented-on OC 

She's young, very much so, but knows and understands so much of the world already. Despite that, she clings to her innocence like a cape, proud in her naive compassion, steadfast in her insistence that good can still come. She can be crooked, can be feral -- her teeth are honed. But she can still try her best, try to love, try to be light -- it's in her name, after all. 

She was chosen for this experiment due to her innate capability of fire manipulation. The experiment attached wings that allow her to fly to her lower back, made of almost grisly organic material. The muscle of these wings were in the prototype phase, and required the addition of an engine to power it -- a bulky thing that she has to wear to fly, otherwise the wings are just dead-weight. 

She's looking for her father. He was a scientist, the reason she trusted the people enough to be docile, to comply with all this pain and suffering. The wings feed into her nervous system, it's what's needed for her to control them, but it hurts so much. She could bear with it, when her father was watching over her. 

But he's gone now, and she doesn't know where he went. 

So she breaks out of the facility, finds her own way. She grows to hate these wings, the pain it's brought her. The things she can do with them; it's not worth it. She wants them gone. 

She grows to love these wings, as they're a part of her now. She has to accept that removing them could wreck more harm, and as her body grows she grows more at ease with what is her Self. 

The facility is hunting her down, of course. A huge, cyborg bird with glowing green eyes and feathers like swords that finds her if she lets her guard down. 

She runs.