Oh, you're asking about my life? Uh, well, my life's been kind of shitty, to be honest, but what're you gonna do? My name's Annora Evans, but I prefer to go by Nora. I grew up in a house that went from moderately well-off to poor as shit. Dad got fibro when I was young, and it made it impossible for him to work. Mom left him; my sis Bea and I wound up trying to help out since the benefits weren't enough to cover household expenses AND Dad's meds. Eventually, I fell in with a group of older kids who helped me learn how to pick pockets and swipe things. It wasn't much, but it helped.
Meanwhile, oh, forgot to mention this: the whole world fell apart. Suddenly we got all these Fey running around. That was before Mom left — Mom and Dad were all about how frightening and immoral these creatures were, yadda yadda. I was terrified of them. But one of my friends was a mutt, so what're you gonna do?
Anyway, when we hit our teens, Bea got the bright idea to help with the financial situation with something she was really good at: poker. Unfortunately, it only takes a few bad hands to make a bad situation worse, and so now we had a whole heap of new troubles called 'Beatrice's Stupid Gambling Debt.' I dropped out of high school, and got a job at Long Wang's Chinese Buffet.
Which, by the way, is total crap. I'm Japanese American — what folks like to call 'burnt toast.' I /know/ I got hired cause they thought I was Chinese and could 'fake an accent' for the customers, racist fucks. For 'authenticity.' Bullshit, I say. I got my pride. But unfortunately my pride don't win out over money sometimes, so. I did /that/ for a few years. Stole on the side to supplement. Never anything too big — my biggest 'job' was swiping some poor lady's purse out in Hollywood. That actually paid the bills for a month.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. So, eventually I quit my job because I couldn't take it anymore, and I was hired on at a Denny's anyway. (Fuck you, Long Wang's!) Dad's got more pride than me though so I never told him where I worked and I DEFINITELY didn't tell him I was stealin' things to supplement. All he knew was I had a comfy office job with weird hours.
So, I worked at Denny's in the evening, and during the day I'd busk, steal, or whatever to help out. Being around Dad was too much too often, since he liked to yell and be 'right' and ugh, so I started to rebel a lot. Sometimes the frustration would get to be too much and I'd paint, usually on old buildings, with chalk or spray paint. (I'm pretty damn good with that shit.) Most days I wouldn't go home. I'd work overtime or I'd sleep under bridges or in a car. Anywhere was better than home.
I got good at climbing, running, and navigating the city on foot — and at saving my own ass when I ran into trouble. I'm pretty good at that. I've got a whole library of nooks and crannies in this little area of the city that I know about — places to hide, rest, sleep. Places to get free food or shelter; nice people who'll do a solid. Some of those folks are regulars at Denny's, too, who tip extra and do nice things for a gal like me.
But, y'know, shit always happens. Meh. Roundabout six months ago, I made the mistake of stealing from the wrong motherfucker. Turned out to be a vampire — like, one of the big nasty ones. Had a temper on him too. He slammed me down faster than I could blink and drained me dry before forcing me to drink it. Then he left me to live or die, no idea which. All I know is I woke up when the sun hit my skin in the morning and freaked the fuck out. Cause, y'know. /Burning to death/.
Anyway, I high-tailed it out of the sun and into the alley, finding a nice, dark dumpster to hide in. I was weak and friggin' starving, but too terrified to come out. When I did eventually peek out, it was night, and not wanting to deal with the craziness of the city, I ran home.
My Dad threw a fit, Bea threw a lamp, and it was made pretty damn clear that I was no longer trusted as long as I was a newvie. Because they're a big fat pile of dicks. I grabbed what I could and ran, middle fingers waving.
Now I felt, finally, some small degree of freedom! I work my butt off. I got myself a teeny little studio apartment. It's not much, but I can paper the windows and lock the door. I don't see my family anymore and frankly, that's okay by me. I'm my own girl now. Sometimes I feel guilty and I'll send money back home about once a month, just to make sure they're not in the gutter somewhere. But mostly? My money's mine, and I'm free.
Totally. Fucking. Free.
Nora is snarky, enthusiastic, and very c'est la vie about life. She has the bull by the horns, and she'll ride it til it's out. She has ultimate confidence in herself to solve problems and get things done, and sometimes that confidence outstretches her actual abilities, which tends to get her in sticky fixes. She loves people — finds them fascinating, and loves to help where she can, but has too much pride to seek help when she personally needs it until situations are dire.
Nora doesn't think in abstracts very often. She prefers concrete ideas, concrete realizations. Theoretical stuff frequently bores her, but at the same time she's artistic, and likes to express her feelings in color and symbols. To her, that's just the language of feeling, though. If you can't express it in a string of swear words, maybe paint or chalk is the next step.
She thinks mostly in the moment, trusting her own improvisation skills to get her through any sticky situations — and for the most part, her trust is well-placed. She thinks and reacts quickly, but it doesn't always go her way and can land her in a pot of trouble.
She engages in a lot of theft, which is currently slowly spiraling toward bigger and bigger 'game,' and she finds it to be fun and thrilling. But at the same time, she recognizes that it hurts people, so on a logical level she prefers to keep her money making legit. She can stop thieving whenever she wants, she swears.