From the way she dresses to the way she speaks, Alicia practically exudes sunshine and rainbows with every step she takes. She doesn't let herself get upset; what use are tears when the time could be better spent laughing? It only takes a little digging to see that seeing the bright side is a conscious choice. She won't whine, she won't cry. She'll suck it up and trudge onwards. Alicia refuses to be the rain on someone's parade, and would rather be the sunshine that brings about the rainbow.

Alicia grew up in a two-person family consisting of her mother and herself. Unfortunately for the young girl, Liese Ruskin possessed no powers and no one in her ancestry did either. Discovering that Alicia could play with fire was a shock to them both. Simple deduction said that the source was the father, but Alicia's mother remained tight-lipped on the subject.

It's strange that she knows little of the father who gave her her powers, unlike most of the various heirs who can trace their history down to the first instance of the power. Her mother simply tells her that her father has his own reasons for being unable to be there for her. As time went on, the reason weakens, but what else did Alicia have to turn to? Acknowledging she was unwanted by her own father would be too painful to bear; it was much easier to believe the lie her mother had fed her since childhood.

This very obvious rejection from her father has led Alicia to live a life wherein she's someone others would want by their side. Independent and reliable; those are the adjectives she wanted attached to her name. She didn't need his help in learning her power; she'd muddle through, and she's quite proud of the results of her trial-and-error attempts. It's ironic that by blinding herself to her father's neglect, she now lived a life fueled by an inadequacy he brought about.

Then one day a letter came, simply addressed to Alicia, signed... "father". Both fear and elation filled her as she ripped the envelope open, but both deflated into disappointment as she read the message. Travel tickets for Berlin, and instructions to seek someone named Scheider. There wasn't even a name she could call him; it was as impersonal as an office memo, as if 'father' was just a position name. Though she was tempted to ignore it, curiosity won. Maybe by going Berlin, she would find answers to who her father was.