A child from another place… At least, that was how she began. A small, sniveling child caked in dirt and lost. Though, even inquired about where it is the girl had come from, there was no proper answer. In fact, such a question never received proper answer. Despite the fact the little one hadn’t the slightest clue where she had come from, one piece of knowledge was particularly clear. “ My name is Ashneir.” Even when asked, no matter how vigorously, she could offer nothing to soothe the curiosity of the ones who had found her. What was learned, however, was the fact that what had lead her to this place was the specs of oddly colored apples against the light of the moon. Hassle or not, she was rather precious when properly cleaned up. Attentive and clever, the little one seemed very keen on the world from how she perceived it. A bubble, simple and happy. Though, there was something that seemed to cause her to differ from those around her. A very instinctive and keen sort of an intellect. This skill was one factor, but the other, was her eyes. The coloration and formation of color in her eyes made her foreign nature all too clear. As a result of this, as a child she learned to never make eye contact with others. Despite not being a sheepish child. Banora is her home. In the oddest sense, it seems. Existing in a home of people who were familiar, but not of the same blood. Not of the same being… Even if there was something about it that was disheartening, a father, a mother and other children to keep company with was such a wonderful thing. There was lots of things she had no concept of, lots of things she avoided. When children left to go away, the village mourned their journeys all as one. People leave all the time, at least the way Ashneir saw it. It wouldn’t be long before Ashneir too, decided to leave. Though, it was nothing for any of the villagers to mourn. Her family, adopted and all, were the only ones to know. Hushed whispers, and big hugs. It was all she could ask for, before going off to begin an adventure of her own. With her memories of them happy and pleasant, and their family name to keep her company.

Adventure… Adventure, was nowhere near as fun as the concept of adventures seemed when told to her in stories. It was… A wake up call, to put it simply. The disrest of the people, the tension. The… Misery. Ashneir bounced around the Mideel area for quite some time, picking up tricks of the trade along the way. Keeping her head down (for the most part), but her occasional tricks during said travels gave her the name “The Imp of Mideel”, as harmless as they were. Tough living was not lost on her, though. As it appeared, nothing was beyond the grasp of one above all others. One, who had long since left their humanity behind. By this time, Ashneir had picked up the traits to be quite the avid thief. It was not something she was particularly proud of, however, she only took what was needed to get from place to place. Learning to fight, to defend herself and what little she acquired, was a must. Even the weapons she carried now, a whip and daggers, are weapons she had long since taken from another. Until she found Midgar… Though she was only twenty years of age, she was no longer bright eyed and bushy tailed. There wasn’t much to be particularly fond of, was there? Though the world was a place of melancholic complacence, there were still places and people… That were still very much worthwhile. Five years of travel and learning had given her much… The knowledge of combat, the friends she had made along the way. Though, most peculiar of all things, was the skills she never much knew she had. Like summoning. Such things she had only heard of, but came naturally to her. Of even more concern, without the use of materia. It could be used, of course. But, what was the point of that. While it was all well and good, she had heard stories of special people. People who were capable of fantastical things… When she was young, those stories were of passing fancy, but with all she’s seen she wondered.. Why was it that none of those people continued to exist? Such elaborate stories, had not a single good end. All things came from here, did it not? All from Midgar… Ashneir was resigned in this impulse to venture into the abyss that was this towering place. A sentinel standing above the abyss… Entrance to it, was not easy. Close calls and the potential for miserable failure, or worse. But, trial and error leads inevitably to results. The result of her labors? The Sector 5 Slums… Though, it wasn’t what she was use to. Housing was scarce, but the people were genuine. There is an understanding in mutual suffering. Solidarity through a mutual struggle. Despite dwelling in the slums, and keeping mostly to herself. Ashneir lives well, and dresses well too. Hiding her exotic appearance and even more ornate attire under a dirted and tattered cloak. Now, twenty-three years of age... Another resident of the slums.. At least, for the time being.