OoC: This is my second BA character, the first being a character I had used for about a week a long time ago, after which I kind of gave up on the BA. But I've decided to give it another shot because of many friends I have that are BAers. (I used my first character in two fights, one complete and one not, so hopefully I'm eligible to make another one at this point- said something about that in the rules)
And a note to anyone reading this- you should probably read the “Skill/Magic” section after reading up to “Height”, as the preceding sections may not make full sense otherwise.
(This was approved by Zorolo
)
BiC:
Name: Mirela Animette
Age: 16
Race: Human, Gypsy
Sex: Female
Hair: Silver, long and flowing
Eyes: Green
Weight: 109 lbs
Height: 5 feet 5 inches
Weapon: Isabella:
Isabella is a doll, with a height of about one foot. She has a plain face with a smile, and wears a simple blue dress and black shoes- all made out of simple cloth. Her hair is black and stringy, and the right side is tied up in a pigtail with a red bow. The other side has been cut, and is too short, and simply hangs. Her blue dress has many patches and stitches from when it had ripped before and was repaired by Mirela.
Isabella wields a standard size dagger, with a somewhat curved blade and a plain wooden hilt. When she holds it, it seems gigantic in comparison to her small size. Normally it is sheathed on her back, inside her dress. It is hidden from view, but does create a suspicious hump in the back of the dress.
As Isabella is a doll, she only “fights” when animated by Mirela- see “Skills/Magic”. She is always animated, however, and “walks” alongside Mirela like a pet and even has a distinctively distinct personality. However, this personality is simply an alter-ego of sorts of Mirela, as Mirela is almost subconsciously controlling Isabella at all times. (Once again, see Skills/Magic for a better explanation)
Strengths: (See Skills/Magic to understand better)
Mirela’s animation techniques, offensively, can be very powerful. For example, if there is a suit of armor, Mirela will be able to animate it and have it fight against an attacker, and the attacker will have a much harder time defeating it as it is merely an empty suit of armor and not Mirela herself. Her ability to manipulate elements like water or fire protects her from attacks of those elements. She is able to create beings out of water and fire to attack, again being problematic for an opponent.
Mirela has had the most practice attacking opponents with her doll, Isabella. Isabella’s size and weight make her very agile and Mirela is able to move her at high speeds and strike with swiftness and deadly accuracy.
Weaknesses: Along with the advantages of animation come many disadvantages.
Firstly, Mirela’s offensive capabilities rely almost completely on her environment. In a barren wasteland, Mirela would only be able to animate the soil, which would not be very powerful.
If Mirela’s environment does not suit her, she can always attack with Isabella. However, Isabella has weaknesses as well, mostly the fact that she is a doll, and can too easily be ripped or crushed.
Mirela’s life force is also partially tied to her animations. If an animation is completely defeated, Mirela experiences an immense loss of energy, which can act as a severe weakness and perhaps even the end to a battle. But Mirela can bring her animations to rest mid-battle if she sees that it is ineffective, to prevent such an occurrence.
Finally, Mirela relies on her animation abilities as her sole method of attacking, and she has absolutely no knowledge of other methods of fighting. This leaves her vulnerable to pretty much anything- if an opponent is able to get past her animations, she has no way to defend herself. Invisibility may help shield herself to some extent, but it isn’t foolproof either.
Skills/Magic:
Animation: Mirela is able to animate and manipulate many objects around her. This magical power is mysterious and many aspects of it are inexplicable, even to her. Through experience, she has come to learn many things about it.
She can give a form to elements such as fire, water, or even the earth, and animate them. She uses these to attack for her. She can also animate trees, rock structures, suits of armor, or anything that her imagination can bring to life.
Mirela will always animate the element or object as a life form, be it a humanoid or an animal, simply because of the way her imagination perceives it.
Examples: Animating a stone structure into a rock golem, animating a suit of armor to attack as a knight, animating fire into a hyena to attack, etc.
Invisibility:Mirela can turn invisible at will. Her transparency is not perfect, however, and when she moves a faint outline of her figure can be seen- and, of course, sounds from her breathing or footsteps can be heard. However, this move can at least confuse the opponent and giver her enough time to back away from an attack. Mirela cannot be invisible and manipulate an animation at the same time.
Appearance: Mirela is dark skinned with contrasting light silver hair, which is long and flows down below her hips. She has dark green eyes and a face with a usually vacant, distant expression.
She wears a black blouse embroidered with colorful flowers and a plain, long, dark blue skirt. She has a slim figure and is quite short, giving her an overall small stature. She wears a golden necklace with an emerald, which is burnt and discolored at some locations.
Personality: Mirela has a split personality disorder. She channels her second personality into her doll, Isabella. She animates Isabella constantly, who “walks” besides her. She also makes Isabella speak, and through Isabella her second personality is shown.
Mirela herself rarely speaks, and is a bit soft-spoken. She keeps her emotions bottled up, or releases them through Isabella. Her traumatic past left her somewhat psychologically scarred; although it would be erroneous to call her mentally unstable, she sometimes acts erratically or oddly. She will always keep an eerie calm about her, and is thus able to think straight in any situation. In times where she must defend herself, she is able to seek the best possible solution to succeed. If possible, Mirela would prefer to avoid fights, but she is sensible enough to know that some fights are inevitable.
Isabella is where all of Mirela’s negative thoughts are channeled. Normally she can act as simply a companion, as a friend that Mirela can converse with and bounce thoughts off of. But in battle, Isabella is sadistic, bloodthirsty, and eager to fight. She is also quick to be angry and even quicker to lash out and act upon impulse or emotion. In general, she represents the “evil” side of Mirela (although that is a bit of an exaggeration).
Biography:
Excerpts from the diary of Mirela Animette
A Small Disclaimer: As the biography is written in diary form, the early entries may sound colloquial and may have sloppy grammar, as would be expected from someone of the given age. As the time progresses, the writing style will be more mature, so most early errors or colloquialisms are intentional.
All events take place in a small town in Italy, where a clan of Roma gypsies have taken residence on the outskirts.
February 27th, 1999- Age 7
Dear Diary,
Today is my birthday! I’m seven years old now, and I had a great day today! Grandma made me a beautiful doll that I love! She has pretty, long, black hair that is tied up into two pigtails, and wears a blue dress. Grandma said that she’s a magical doll, and was made special for me! She said she looked like me, too. I don’t see how, though. Anyways, I’m going to call her Isabella! Isabella was a pretty girl in one of the stories Mama used to read me and I like the name a lot.
March 15th, 1999- Age 7
Dear Diary,
Today I played with Isabella a lot. I borrowed some of the plates and cups from Mama’s cabinet and we had a small tea party, like I saw one of the white girls do once. She had more toys to play with, and her plates and cups were fancier, but we had lots more fun!
Grandma saw us and said it was cute the way I would move Isabella and pretend to talk for her as if she was real. I’m not sure what she’s talking about, though. Isabella is real!
Then Mama came and scolded me for stealing the cups and plates. I started crying a little, but Grandma said that it was okay, and Mama got a little less mad.
June 6th, 1999- Age 7
Dear Diary,
Today is the first day of summer, or at least according to Mama. We will be getting ready for a European festival, where Mama will perform her dance like always and earn us some money. I had to go help- I didn’t really wanna, but Mama said that because there was no man in the house, and Grandma was too old to help, it was up to me and her to set up everything, otherwise we wouldn’t get any money.
I asked Mama if she was ever going to marry again, and she said she might. I hope Mama doesn’t marry one of the white men! Hopefully she’ll find a Roma man to marry. There are many Romas who live here, and we all know each other well, but we don’t have as much money as the white men. If Mama married a white man, we’d be rich, but I wouldn’t be happy having to call a white man my dad!
February 14th, 2001- Age 8
Dear Diary,
Today was the worst day of my life! I was playing with Isabella as always, when Grandma said that I should go out and meet some new friends instead of playing with Isabella all the time. I told her that all the other Roma girls were too old, and were always spending time with their boyfriends, and that the European children were snobby and mean. She insisted that I give it a try with the white children, so I went.
But they were so mean! I tried to introduce myself, but I kind of murmured and stumbled, and it came out weird and they started laughing. “What did she say?” “Is that some stupid Roma language, or can she not speak Italian properly?” “Why is she even talking to us?” I think I turned red and turned away, and they saw Isabella. “What kind of ugly doll is that?” one of the girls asked.
I became a little bit mad. “Isabella isn’t a doll! She’s real!” I yelled. But they just laughed harder! Then, one of the big white boys grabbed Isabella by the leg and yanked her away from me. “We’ll see how real she is, then!” He took out a knife and cut the left side of Isabella’s hair almost completely!
I was crying so hard, I couldn’t even see straight! “Give her back!” I tried to beg, but they just laughed. Finally, he threw Isabella at my feet. “What are you crying for, stupid gypsy? If she’s so
real, her hair will grow back, won’t it?” They were mocking me, and they were making fun of Isabella. I knelt on the ground and sobbed, holding Isabella to my chest.
The girl then took out her porcelain doll, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes, and a dress that looked like it must have cost a million Lira. “See this, stupid dark girl?
This is a real doll. Her hair is silky and smooth, and her complexion is much fairer than your disgusting rag doll! And see, she closes her eyes when I lay her on her back!” She must have demonstrated this to me, but I was too blinded with tears to look.
But then something strange happened. Isabella turned and faced me, like she had never done before. I felt a very strange connection to her as she said in a dark voice,
”I hate that doll. Kill it!” I stared at Isabella in awe, but then rose to my feet, determined to listen to her.
The girl gave me a fake smile. “Would you like to touch my doll, gypsy? Would you like to see how it feels to not be dirt-poor, even for a moment?” she said, extending her doll towards me. I extended my hand towards the doll, but she yanked it back. “Hah! As if I would let your grubby Roma hands touch my beautiful Jeanette!” They all laughed again.
”Jeanette? That’s a disgusting name. That’s a white girl’s name. Kill that doll, Mirela! See how it mocked us? Kill it!” Isabella was speaking to me again, and I obeyed her. I lunged towards the girl, and pinned her to the ground. She began screaming with a high-pitched voice that made me even more angry. The other boys just stood there with wide eyes, watching as I grabbed her doll, and hurled it against a building. Its head shattered into small fragments and the body cracked in half.
I grabbed Isabella and took off back to my house as fast as I could. “Jeanette! You killed Jeanette! Oh, oh, you stupid, disgusting, dark-skinned Roma! You and your damned gypsy family can all go to hell! Oh, Jeanette!” The girl screamed and cursed after me and sobbed for her doll, but I felt no sympathy towards her. Strangely, I also felt no satisfaction for what I had done to her doll, but I could tell that Isabella was happy.
I went home. It was getting dark, and Grandma noticed that I was a little dirty. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Did you have fun with the other children?” she asked. “Yes, Grandma. No, Grandma. Yes, Grandma.” I replied, and I ran upstairs.
I have to stop writing now, dear diary. I think the white girl’s father is talking to my mother, and there seems to be a fight going on. It must be about the doll. I’ll probably be in trouble now.
February 15th, 2001- Age 8
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I was in big trouble for what I did to that girl’s doll. Mama came and scolded me because she had to pay for the doll out of her own pocket. She said she was saving money up to buy me a special birthday dinner, but now she won’t be able to. I feel terrible!
And I tried to tell her that Isabella made me do it, but she thought that was ridiculous. She told me that Isabella is just a doll, which was just what the white children had said. I started crying, and Mama just left.
She came back later to comfort me, and said it was alright. I was still sad over Isabella losing half her hair, and sadder still that I had disappointed Mama. But Mama gave me a smile and hugged me, so I think I’m alright now. At least, now I know not to go near those stupid white children again!
September 26th, 2001- Age 9
Dear Diary,
Ever since I broke that girl’s doll, her father has been seeing Mama quite often. I don’t understand. I mean, is it really that big of a deal that I broke her doll? They’re rich and white, so can’t they just buy ten more? I asked Grandma about it, and she didn’t seem happy. She shushed me and told me I’d understand if I was older. I hate it when grownups say things like that!
Isabella has been talking with me a lot these days. She used to be quieter, but now she speaks to me. Sometimes she gets me into trouble. She’s kind of mischievous!
December 25th, 2001- Age 9
Dear Diary,
Apparently today, the white families celebrate a Christian holiday called “Christmas”. I don’t know what it’s about, but all the rich children get lots of toys, and even the middle class white children get some too. Of course, we’re not Christian so we don’t really care.
But today- remember that girl whose doll I broke a long time ago? Her father came by. His name is Mr. Giordano, I found out. And for some reason, he left a present for Mama, wrapped in colorful paper. Mama opened it, and it was a beautiful golden necklace with an emerald! Mama’s first name is “Esmerelda”, so I guess Mr. Giordano thought it would be appropriate.
I’m starting to get an idea of what’s going on. I think Mr. Giordano likes Mama! And I think she likes him back! I’m worried, because I don’t want Mama to marry a white man like him. Especially since his daughter is that snobby girl with the porcelain doll, who made fun of me, Isabella, and my family too!
I asked Mama if she was going to marry him. She said, “Well, his first wife did pass away several years ago, so, I suppose it’s not impossible,” then she starting having a faraway look in her eyes. So now I’m even more worried!
March 31st, 2002- Age 10
Dear Diary,
I was playing with Isabella today and I noticed Grandma staring at me with wide eyes, a little shocked. I asked her what was the matter. “Your doll… Isabella, she’s… she’s moving and talking, as if she were alive!”
I giggled. “Of course she’s alive, Grandma!” But Grandma shook her head. “Child, are you… is it because… oh, it must be the magic of our ancestors, it works in such mysterious ways… Even your mother…” She continued shaking her head and walked off. I really don’t know what she was talking about. How strange!
Mama has been saying that Grandma has been very sick lately, though, so maybe that’s it. Hm…
October 2nd, 2002- Age 10
Dear Diary,
Grandma passed away yesterday. She was sick for a few weeks, but everyone told me she would get better eventually, but that was a lie. Why do grownups feel the need to hide these things from me? It just made it worse for me now that she’s gone!
I was crying a lot yesterday, and I still am. Isabella didn’t seem to care, though. “Aren’t you sad at all?” I asked her, but she just replied, “Nah, it’s not my business.” She’s kind of cold-hearted sometimes.
Mama cried the most. We held a simple funeral for her today, and almost all of the Roma clan was there. Mr. Giordano was there as well, although I don’t know why. He had his arm around Mama while she was sobbing.
It’ll be hard for us without Grandma, I really loved her so much and I know she loved me. But we’ll manage somehow.
December 4th, 2002- Age 10
Dear Diary,
Mr. Giordano asked Mama to marry him! I saw him do it, he knelt on one knee and opened a box with a diamond ring inside it! Mama was surprised for a little bit, and then she said yes!
I can’t stand it! I don’t want Mr. Giordano to be my dad! I guess he’s not a bad person in general, but I don’t want to be sisters with his daughter! And I don’t want to change my last name to Giordano! My Papa’s last name was Animette, and I’m going to keep that, no matter what Mr. Giordano says!
January 9th, 2003- Age 10
Dear Diary,
Isabella has been doing some naughty things lately! She’s been breaking into houses and stealing small stuff like candy. I guess there’s no harm in that, though. Besides, the candy tastes good!
February 27th, 2003- Age 11
Dear Diary,
Today was my birthday, I’m 11 years old now! Mr. Giordano, who isn’t my dad yet of course, gave me a nice porcelain doll. Just like the one his daughter, who I found out has the name “Clara”, had. It really does close its eyes when you lay it on its back. But I hate it. It’s dull and emotionless, and doesn’t have any thought to it! Grandma made Isabella for me out of hard work and love, and all Mr. Giordano did was use a little bit of his money to buy this factory-made thing, which wasn’t even any problem for a rich man like him.
Mama, of course, said Mr. Giordano was very generous and I had to thank him. Whatever!
I talked to Mama today, and she said that she is definitely in love with Mr. Giordano, and will definitely marry him. I told her I was not changing my last name, and she just chuckled and said “That’s fine, sweetie.” I don’t think she takes me very seriously, even though I’m already eleven years old! I’m almost a teenager, for gosh sakes!
Mama also said the wedding date is going to be May 10th. What a drag!
I’ve also been talking to Isabella about Mr. Giordano lately. She hates him strongly! She even mentioned that she would like to do many violent things to him, which I felt was a bit too much. I don’t want to hurt Mr. Giordano, I just don’t want to call him my dad. But Isabella has always been pretty outspoken, and sometimes kind of mean. I guess that’s just her personality.
Marh 1st, 2003- Age 11
Dear Diary,
I feel a little guilty. Isabella has convinced me to break into houses and steal more. Last night I stole some jewelry from a white family’s house, and this morning the police were investigating all over. Isabella thought it was hilarious, but I was worried! I quickly threw the jewelry I had taken into the river that flowed right by our house so that nobody would see me holding it. I didn’t want to get into trouble.
I scolded Isabella for making me do such a bad thing! But she didn’t care.
May 15th, 2003- Age 11
Dear Diary,
It has been five days since the wedding day. I’ll tell you what happened.
Before the wedding, I was forced to help with the preparations, as expected. Before noon, Mama quickly ushered me and Mr. Giordano into a room. She said she wanted to show us something she had been keeping a secret, and that only we could know because she trusted us the most.
Once we were in the room, she said, “My bloodline carries some mysterious magic, that seems to spontaneously appear in some of its descendants. Mirela, it’s possible that you’ll gain some sort of magic sometime in the future. Your Grandma didn’t have any, but… I do. And only she knew about it before now.” She held a very grave expression on her face, which didn’t seem to deter Mr. Giordano’s smirk.
“Esmeralda, come now, are you being serious? We don’t have much time for games right now,” he said. I frowned. “Of course she’s serious! Mama wouldn’t lie or anything!” Mama put a hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s okay. It’s very hard to believe, I’m sure, so I’ll have to show you.”
She then closed her eyes and put her hands together, as if she was praying. She suddenly seemed to shiver, and disappeared from sight! Mr. Giordano turned even paler than he usually is and took a step back. “This is the power of my ancestors’ magic,” said her voice out of nowhere. She then reappeared and smiled at Mr. Giordano, who seemed extremely frightened.
I was laughing. “That’s so cool, Mama! I can’t believe you…”
“Witch!” yelled Mr. Giordano. “You’re a witch! You- you- oh!” He bolted out of the room, leaving the two of us stunned. “He… he called me a…” Mama sunk to her knees and put her head in her hands. “Oh… I should have realized he wouldn’t understand… How could I be so…” I saw a tear trickle down her cheek.
After a short while, we exited the room, to find many people waiting for us outside. Two men grabbed Mama by the arm, and started dragging her some place. I couldn’t believe it! I lunged after them, trying to get them to let her go, but they knocked me back and I fell to the ground. “Mirela! Stay back!” said Mama, struggling to free herself. Two men held me back as I screamed at them to let her go. But nobody would listen to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Giordano briskly walk in the opposite direction. That bastard! He must have told everyone Mama was a witch!
They made me wait in a locked room and wouldn’t let me go. Through a window, I saw two men rush up to the rest of them, holding the gold ring I had taken from the white family a long time ago! “We found this stolen necklace in the river right next to this witch’s house, along with several other pieces of jewlery! She must have used her strange powers to steal them!” “That cinches it, then! She’s a witch and a criminal!” I realized that Mama was being blamed for something I had done! I pounded on the door, trying to tell them that I was the guilty one, but there was so much commotion they didn’t hear me. Through the crowd I could hear Mama screaming and sobbing, saying that she had never seen the ring before and that she was not a witch. I struggled against the door and fell to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
I didn’t know how many hours had passed. I kept wishing Isabella would come save me, since she was the only one that would understand me now. Suddenly, I heard a loud crashing sound. A rock had been thrown through one of the windows in the room I had been locked in, and many more were being thrown. After a while, the window was almost completely broken, and I saw Isabella climbing up to the window! “Mirela, let’s go. Let’s stop them from killing Mama!” For some reason, I was not surprised that she had come to save me, but I was very grateful. I climbed through the window, being careful not to rip my skirt over the broken glass, and jumped down.
I saw a horrific sight. There was a mob, around a central, elevated platform. There was a large, wooden post. Mama was tied to that post, and they were lighting a huge fire around her! “Burn the witch!” “Burn that theif!” were some of the many shouts and chants emerging from the crowd.
I heard two older men conversing behind me. “Looks like this town has become overrun by fear,” said one. “A woman does some strange trick, they find a stolen jewelry near her house, and they automatically assume she’s an evil witch!”
The other man shook his head. “Yeah, it’s pathetic. Poor woman shouldn’t be burned to death just because these people are crazy and afraid. That’s just barbaric.”
I ran up to them. “Please! If you guys think this is bad, please save Mama! She didn’t do anything wrong, it was all my fault! Please!” I desperately begged. They simply brushed me off. “Go home, little girl. You don’t want to see this,” one of them said. They walked off slowly.
Suddenly, a loud yell filled the air. The flames had reached Mama! She was burning! They were actually burning her! I yelled and sobbed and screamed, but the thrilled and excited yells of the mob drowned out my voice. I couldn’t believe it! I felt so guilty, and so helpless, just standing there as Mama was about to burn to death!
Isabella turned to me. “Well, come on then, do something!” she said. I looked at her incredulously. “What can I do, Isabella? There’s nothing I can do! Mama’s going to die!”
Isabella shook her head. “Mirela, you can do a lot more than you think you can. I’m a part of you, so I should know. Just try to get those flames away from her. You can do it!” Isabella sounded like she was crazy, but my head was spinning so fast that it sounded like a logical suggestion.
I looked at the raging flames, swirling, angrily engulfing Mama. They seemed to be as violent and crazy as the crowd was. I stared at them intently. I began to feel a bit warm, as if I was near the flames themselves.
Suddenly, all the flames rose at one focal point at the edge of the platform into a large pillar. Mama wasn’t burning anymore, I had moved the flames from her. All the townspeople were shocked and panicking, but I felt that it was completely natural. I focused on the flames, determined to keep them away from Mama. They had a mind of their own, but I needed to control them. It took a few seconds, but I could feel the flames succumb to my control. It just all felt so natural…
I moved the flames to form an animal. A hyena, because the flames angry cackling reminded me of a hyena. I made it lunge around, scaring people. Isabella began laughing hysterically. “This is great! Kill them all, Mirela! They were going to kill Mama, so kill them!” I didn’t want to kill anyone, I just wanted the flames as far away from Mama as possible. I made the flaming hyena lunge away at a high speed, knocking into several buildings and causing immense fires. Finally I let go of my control over the flames and the hyena dissipated.
By this time, all the townspeople were panicking and running around, and many buildings were on fire. The flames had burned off the ropes of Mama, and she was trying her best to keep on two feet. She was covered with burns that looked agonizing, and she was biting her lip to keep from screaming in pain. I ran up to her and hugged her leg, which I immediately realized was a mistake because of her injuries. But she just hugged me back. I began sobbing intensely.
“Mama! I’m sorry, it was all my fault! I was the one that stole the jewelry and they blamed you for it! Mama, I’m sorry!” Mama shook her head. “Mirela, it’s alright… I expected this to happen if I fell in love with a white man… it’s my fault, I really was a fool…” She struggled to her feet. “He was handsome, but I think I was taken in mostly by his wealth… I was so superficial; I thought I could even trust him!” She began walking, limping slightly towards our house. “And I’ve put both of our lives in danger because of my foolishness,” she said.
“But we’re not in danger, Mama! I saved you! I was the one making the fire go away! We’re fine!” I exclaimed. But Mama shook her head again. “I’ve been branded a witch, now, Mirela. I’ll probably be blamed for burning the village as well.” My heart skipped a beat as I realized that I had once again done something bad, and Mama was to take the blame. “The police will come for me, and I want you to be safe. I did suspect that today’s events would unfold as they have, so I prepared something for you. Come along, Mirela,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her as she hobbled to the doorstep of our house. Isabella trailed behind me.
She went inside, and moments later emerged with a bag. “Inside this bag will be things you’ll need to survive on your own, Mirela.” My eyes widened. “Mama, you’re leaving me? Why, Mama? You’re not mad, are you?”
Mama gave me a soft smile, and then knelt to hug me. “I could never be mad at you, Mirela. Right now you’re my only hope. I want you to live for as long as possible and be as happy as you can be. I want you to promise me that you won’t give up on life after today, no matter what.” I nodded, trying not to cry too much. “I… promise.”
I saw several uniformed men in the distance. Mama stood up. “Go, Mirela. Find some place to live, find a kind family that will take you in. There are many heartless people in this world, but scattered among them are kind-hearted ones. Be safe, Mirela.” She took off her gold necklace with the emeralds on it, that had been a gift from Mr. Girodano two years ago, and put it around my neck. “Remember me, Mirela,” she said softly.
I just stood there, refusing to believe that Mama was leaving me alone. Mama gave me a stern look. “Go! Now!” Behind her harsh gaze, I could see that she was holding back tears, and I knew I had to listen to her. I turned around and ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction.
After reaching a considerable distance, I heard a gunshot, followed by two more. I didn’t want to turn back. I clutched the bag to my chest and ran, without any sense of where I was going.
So here I am now, dear diary. In some other strange town. I used up the small amount of money Mama gave me in the back, and ate the food in there as well. I’ll have to find a better way to live now.
Isabella has been with me the whole time. She’s all I have left, really.
I promised Mama I wouldn’t give up on life, so I’m going to keep on trying. And I’m not going to cry anymore, either. If I’m going to be on my own, I have to be a big girl and accept things the way they are.
February 27th, 2004- Age 12
Today is my birthday, but I didn’t get any presents. I didn’t even tell the group of people I’ve been living with. I suppose because we’re all homeless and on the streets, it wouldn’t do any good because we can’t afford any luxuries or stuff like that. But Isabella remembered and wished me a happy birthday, which made me happy.
July 6th, 2005- Age 13
It’s a harsh world out there, especially for a girl like me.
Last night, I was walking down the back alley of the town- which, now that I look back upon it, was not a very well-planned decision- when I suddenly found myself surrounded by a group of older teenage boys. They started saying some disgusting things about me, and one of them grabbed me, which really startled me. I struggled for a while, and luckily enough, a passing police officer heard me and came. He fired a few warning shots and the gang dissipated. He walked with me the rest of the way home- or, at least, what I call “home”- and told me that I should be more careful about where I walk during the nights. I thanked him for saving me and for his consideration, and he left.
Isabella kept telling me how much she would have liked to “beat those bastards to a pulp”. She really is very violent, I don’t like it sometimes. But she’s somewhat right. If I face a situation like that ever again, I do need to find some way to defend myself.
I have been privately practicing my animation techniques, however. I can animate more than just fire- like I did that day- I’m sure you remember, dear diary. I’ve been secretly animating small things like broken glass, trash bins, water, etc. It’s fun, and perhaps one day I could use it in a combative situation. I have no interest in learning other ways to hurt people.
November 25th, 2006- Age 14
Dear Diary,
I am writing in a cozy little room! It is a wonderful room in an inn, which was given to me free of cost. Mama was right when she said that there were some kind-hearted people in the world. The old couple that owns it is very sweet, and I will be paying them back.
And by doing odd jobs around the town, I’ve earned a bit of cash. Soon I’ll be able to pay them back in full.
I’ve been drawing some conclusions about Isabella. She seems to be another part of me. Perhaps a different side of my personality. It would explain why I feel so connected to her, and why her nature is so much different than mine.
And something very interesting happened today. I was remembering Mama, and for some reason I tried putting my hands together and closing my eyes like she did, and it worked- I turned invisible! Something inside me was urging me to do it, and it would appear that I’ve inherited that magic from her. I don’t understand how or why, but like Grandma said, the magic works in “mysterious ways”. I will practice it often from now on, it may be handy in the future.
June 20th, 2007- Age 15
Dear Diary,
Two weeks ago, a European Summer festival was happening, like the kind that used to happen back home. However, in this town the festival is much grander, and hardly anyone doesn’t attend; even if they have no cash to spare, everybody enjoys watching the free performances and generally basking in the festive atmosphere.
The biggest free performance was a dancing girl, of no more than seventeen years of age. There were many women, but obviously much more men, giving coins and bills as tips. I observed her for a moment. She reminded me of the dances back home, being dark skinned like my Roma clan is. But she was a terrible dancer! The audience simply enjoyed her because they had never seen a true performance. (And, of course, the men enjoyed her because of her looks.)
I was watching for a while, when one of the men asked me, “Hey, you’re a gypsy too, ain’t ya? Why don’t you show us a dance too?” I bashfully said I didn’t know how, but somehow I was pushed into the center. The dancer smiled and backed away, gesturing for me to dance. My heart was pounding, but I tried to imitate what Mama had always done, as she had always received positive feedback. After a while, it seemed to flow very naturally, and I was being cheered on even louder and more enthusiastically than the previous dancer. At the end, my tips were even larger than hers were!
I performed daily for the past two weeks and received a large amount of money. With this, I paid the owners of the inn for any long-standing debts, and had enough to buy Isabella a dagger. I think that she will enjoy learning how to use it; she needs some way to vent her anger anyhow.
February 27, 2008- Age 16
Dear Diary,
Today is my 16th birthday, and Isabella’s 9th. I had left the inn a while ago; something was urging me to move on with my life. I have sufficient money to survive, and I believe I have sufficient skills to protect myself should the need arise. However, I still don’t have any sense of where I am going, just like when I had first left home five years ago. But I won’t ever give up on life, dear diary. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it.