Ami is a small woman, barely breaking five feet tall, waifishly thin, with a near permanent set to her brow. On the few occasions that her hair was properly clean and not tucked away in pigtail braids, she sported a wild mane of bright ginger curls which fell most of the way down her back. She has deep set, dark eyes that stood out on her thin face like saucers, always searching around like some sort of frightened animal. All off her clothes were old, and none of them really fit, but of the few things that she could keep, she seemed to most favor a blue frock coat that might've been nearing eighty years old, with most of the buttons missing, the cuffs reduced to tatters, and the hem long since destroyed, but it was still warm, and that was the best she could do.
As for an early life, Ami never exactly had much to say. It was easy to pry that she was from Saint Denis, easy to pry that she had left. Anything else seemed to change every time she was asked. Sometimes people cared for her, sometimes there was no one. Sometimes there was a great house with a place to sleep, or a convent full of horrible nuns. Sometimes there was just a dirty street, cold rooftops, and no one to look after her and her sister.
Even as her stories changed, there were the common threads: she was often sick, even more often hungry, and almost always cold. She never spoke about her parents, and if she was asked, she always said that she didn't have any with rather a bite. As with much of her stories, they were told with a bitterness that she seemed to save specially for the occasion. Some religious mission taught her to read and write, and settled her with a deep mistrust of anyone presenting themselves as a religious figure.
Anyone else on the street was usually regarded with the utmost suspicion. For most of her life, every other person she let was just another crab in the bucket, and there was little to no hope of ever escaping. There was no thoughts of leaving for a long, long time. Saint Denis might be bad, but the unfamiliar world outside had to be worse.
After about a year and a half of no records, Miriam O'Brien (An assumed name after her legal adoption) reappears in Sisika State Penitentiary. She is serving a life sentence.
No Official Records, claims vary.
5'1 4'11 without the boots
Any lighter and she might just start floating away
July 14th... Isn't rude to ask a woman her age or something?
Saint Denis... unfortunately
Vivian Ellington (blood sister), Michael O'Brien (adoptive guardian)
Ami, Lark, Florence, Theresa... There are a few.