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Race: Human
Birthday: 18th of Fall, 491 AV
Age: 22 years old
Birthplace: Riverfall
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7
Weight: 120
Edith shows all the signs of having been a pretty child. She sports copious amounts of dark hair, long, angular bones and rich, lacquered eyes. But an incident with an oil lamp have erased much of what she used to have. Her most obvious features now are her scars. The upper part of her torso, hands, and the lower part of her face have the pitted, unnaturally smooth texture similar to melted candle wax. Molten ribbons of pink, white and a dusty brown warp her skin into a kaleidoscope that looks almost painful, though they haven't ached in many years.
Through quick and carful care from a kindly Konti doctor after the fire, Edith has retained an amazing amount of movement despite the scars. She has full motion in both shoulders, can turn her head 30 degrees in each direction and can emulate all facial expressions. Her voice, however, was damaged irrevocably, though minimally. There is a whispering, papery rasp behind every word she says no matter the volume.
Everything below her waist, beside a stretched disk of scar tissue on her upper thigh, has been miraculously spared from the fire and describes a strong, tireless physique that works in long lines and muscle. She works hard to keep herself healthy and fed, and it shows through the healthy pallor of her skin and the quality of her narrow limbs. Her clothing comes across as immoderately modest, ironically. Her sleeves reach her wrists, her skirts to her knees, and her collars are always high and buttoned to her throat. The quality of her clothing has dropped significantly since striking out on her own, but all of her things are treated with auspicious care. They are her things, after all.
Edith is not special. She is not particularly clever, nor strong. She cannot be described as creative, beautiful or especially talented. There has been too much responsibility forced on her too fast, and years later she is still learning to cope with it to the detriment of everything else. Outwardly she is often stressed, and defensive to the point of aggressive. She has something to prove, and struggles under her self appointed label as a washed-out whore. This consuming idea has latched on to her at such a young age, and so completely, that she still finds herself fantasizing about being someone else.
But despite this she has a kind soul that struggles to show itself through her insecurities. She is not the type to back down from difficult situations and danger, or from someone that needs help. Though she is spread thin she is headstrong and doesn't like to follow someone else's lead. She is difficult to work with, hard to understand, and tough to befriend. But at her core she is a normal, driven woman with a strong heart and something to prove.
Childhood is rarely easy in Miza. And despite Riverfall's solid wall of protection surrounding her, Edith's was no different. She was born a bastard child to a reluctant mother and absentee father. Her mother had come south by way of the Karabrin road several years before her birth to escape a bad situation, though she never told her daughter what prompted this drastic change of scenery.
Since Edith was born neither blue nor male, her mother assumes her sire was a combination of a flagon of dark beer and one of the many young Svefra men that infested the docks. Edith has suspected her mother might be charging the men she continues to bring home for the inevitable tumble they would share in her mothers bed. But she never had the gall to ask.
As a family of only two, Edith was never coddled. She knew from an early age that her mothers seamstress work and her "supplemented income" did not balance their lifestyle. They were both living well above their means as her mother endeavoured to keep her daughter healthy and maintain a front for society. An opulent apartment, fine restaurants and the latest fashions were her mothers vices, she'd glide around the cities festivals in her finery she couldn't afford, smiling and laughing like a much younger woman. She lived a fantasy that reality wouldn't let her keep.
A season after Edith turned nine years old her she laid shivering in her bed, as they hadn't been able to afford to keep the fire going at night. Her mother slipped quietly into her room and shook her child awake, saying in a cracked, broken voice: "Up you get Eedee, there is a nice young man here to keep you warm." And just like that Edith was initiated into prostitution, and became the families second provider. Then the facade they lived could be maintained a little longer.
Years pass this way, and by the time the girl was fourteen she was expected to go find customers on her own. But she was never good at what she did, and never endeavoured to improve her abilities or work at an established brothel; despite the drastic improvement that would mean to their meagre resources. Dipping into the fetid pool of tavern drunks she would pick the most inebriated, placid man she could find and drag him home with her, or settle it quick in the back alleys.
Another five years pass and Edith is still living at home, supporting her only family the only way she knows how. But one night she gets sloppy. She is successful in coaxing another man home with her, leading him with promises of a soft bed and a nubile young woman, but fails to recognize the warning signs of a deflated, aggressive drunk. When his inebriated state leaves his body unable to preform he gets angry, accusing the girl of not satisfying him. And finally, when Edith demands he leave, the man grabs the first thing his fumbling hands can find and throws it at her in rage.
The oil lamp exploded across Edith's chest, licking up her face and arms. Water only spread the oil further. It took her four agonizing minutes of clawing at her ruined flesh before she finally blacked out.
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