« History «
Safira’s past is not something she speaks about often. It was filled with some unwelcoming circumstances, harsh rules, and predominantly a broken moral compass within the wolves who had raised her. These parents of hers weren’t truly her own and in fact, Safira is not blood to either of them. When she was merely a few months old, the girl was kidnapped from a seemingly hopeful childhood she could have had. She was unaware of this as she grew up, but she always had a suspicion. The wolves that she knew weren’t the ones that she could vaguely remember. The voices were different. The smells were unfamiliar. And as the months past, Safira was able to learn more than she had ever expected to know. She had learned of her kidnapping but nothing else. Not who her parents were, not her brothers, not her sisters, not their lives…She knew nothing of them besides a fleeting sound of a voice she can never place. The family that had raised her, well, they were ruthless. Many of her memories being poor instances of careless parenting, harsh punishments, and the art of deception. The lifestyle she had found herself in was immoral and dangerous—and sadly, for a long time, it was the only thing she knew.
Everyone that surrounded her were at the simplest terms considered thieves. She grew up around the arts of illusion and trickery, learning the ways through deception and manipulation. Safira had learned how to escape from certain places and mastered the art of disappearing; to leave no traces of her presence behind. She was good at this, almost too good. Her ‘parents’ saw her as their gem, their secret weapon, though this did not turn into some sort of familial bond between the three of them. No. Instead, they saw her as an object, as a means to get what they wanted. They’d use her, force her to do their bidding and she became their trophy.
As Safira got older, she was able to see clearly the life she was living, the life her ‘parents’ wanted her to follow and for a while she struggled with this notion. To leave the only family she had known or to stay and go through bouts of cruel punishment and horrible, horrible assignments. In the end, she chose the former. Leaving was the best thing she could do. This life she was living, she knew, wasn’t for her. It wasn’t who she was and she refused to be molded into the sort of monster they wanted her to become.
But yet, no matter how far she would run, that immoral lifestyle was scarred along her heart. She had found herself only knowing how to live life through what she was taught, what she was primed to learn…and she began to steal, fight, hold trophies for her earnings and so many more awful habits.
As the years went on, she quickly began to grow stronger, harder in her heart and mind and more protected than ever. She had learned first hand what the reality of the world was really like and how cruel and unforgiving it could be. During those months alone, she had learned a lot about herself and the world. She taught herself how to hunt and survive, she taught herself old tricks from her parents in the art of deception, she learned how to kill and steal…
But she wasn’t careful enough that very first time. She had run into her parents and was forced back. Those times were brutal, but the months following were even worse. Over the course of her life in the valley, they had found her a total of two or three times from the mistakes she had made when she had slipped. Those memories are things she wish she could forget.
Yet with determination to finally free herself from them, she escaped again and again, trying so hard to not become that lifestyle that she only knew. But they were pissed, they were angry, and she knew this. Jobs needed to be fulfilled—and with their secret weapon gone, too much was on the line. Safira had changed her name, Arielle (the name that they had given her) was dead to her. She knew she’d perhaps be on the run for all her life, goons of theirs following her every waking movement, but as long as Safira was free…she’d be okay with that. |