Description
Ragged, hunted looking. Her clothes are hand-me-downs and her other equipment old, her hair hasn't been washed for several days now and her eyes flicker uncertainly.
Personality
Formerly somewhat sombre and polite, now she has a ragged edge about her, she no longer seems able to trust, and receiving something for free is considered almost a trap. Her happiness of the former life has fled, and now she is an outcast and on the run, unable to fully escape.
Equipment
One pistol, almost out of ammo. A couple of empty ammo clips and a knife. A few portions of random food she's saving up and a diary filled with her good memories, permenantly locked.
History
Amelia, born on the streets and taken into an orphanage at a young age. She grew up to the strictures of the nuns there, eventually being adopted into a kindly family of the upper middle class. Things went from good to better, even when she became a part of the local 'enforcers'. A mafia like group in which her adopted father was a very influential member. To put it simply, she was happy with her lot, and satisfied that she was living up to her father's expectations, she even made a best friend in her 'group'. A ragged young boy who was rather happy go lucky.
This was good for her, and she seemed full of life. The bright groomed to be ambassador of the group due to her almost charismatic magnetism. But then her father was killed by a rival group, and war in the streets broke out, over 18 now she joined the front line, killing and destroying the homes of those involved in the death of her beloved father. Until, that is, one of the last remaining of the enemy hid themselves as a staff of the orphanage. Conflicted, Amelia could not decide, until she decided to let that one man go to save the orphanage from destruction. The only person she told was the ragged boy who was her friend, not romantically, but platonically.
He told the superiors, and they, angered that a daughter of their esteemed associate would try to stop their will, went ahead and did it. She arrived on the scene just in time to witness the last nun being knifed to death by the hitmen of the group. She shot two of them before they escaped, but the police found her on the scene and blamed her for the murders that happened. She was on the run from the law. The groups contacts in the police egged the chase onwards, and let the other underground groups know that a traitor was headed their way. She is now trapped between the law and crime, and she cannot escape.
So begins...
She ... she just didn't understand this woman. Natalie was very much unlike anyone else Amelia had ever met before, and really, she wondered if she'd ever meet someone like this lady ever again. She shook herself out of the daze, walking around to the drivers side and getting in slowly. "Thank you." She said quietly, almost ashamedly, her face once more obscured by the curtain of her hair.
Amelia, long used to not riding in a car but instead by foot, finds this very comfortable way of travel. She didn't use the car much back at home, and never had bothered to get a licence. She did do as requested, buckling her seatbelt before looking out the windows at the forest travelling by. If there was one advantage to this it was that Gerogin's men wouldn't expect her to contact someone and therefore drive with them. They especially wouldn't expect her to going into Paris.
Amelia giggles at this latest expoundation. The way it was said in such a monotone made it sound almost ridiculous, and besides that, Amelia hadn't had anything to laugh at for a long time. She quietened the giggles quickly though, trying not to sound too unkind. "So what is it about Paris that you dislike so much?" She asks, her eyes looking out the window rather than at Natalie.
She smiles slightly to herself, her eyes wandering the grove as she sits there. "You're spending time with the upperclass. That's the same as at home, with so many sociable higher class. That's why I preferred what are referred to as 'the peasantry' for company." She replies, her mouth twitching as she remembers a happier time, the diary in her rucksack had been locked for so long.
Amelia almost snorted. "That is an overly inflated ego, and trying to get credit for something which doesn't deserve it." She replied, disdain evident in her voice. She felt comfortably full for the first time since she was forced to run away. It was an enjoyable experience after such a long time of skimping for food and actually having to steal to stay alive. "What's your home like?"
Amelia frowned, thinking for a moment before replying. "Home city. I guess I wonder what you have at ... at home." She gets quieter towards Her memories now turning towards the less happy parts of her life. She had a lot of sadness that she would, she thought, never get over. Rather she turned back to her question. "What's your family like?"
"You have a daughter, but you're not married?" She asks, slightly surprised by this. She's heard of such things but... She shook her head. "My father was a noble, my mother a weaver who died before he adopted me. Her tapestries adorned the family house as long as I lived there, beautiful in colour and design." She paused, her eyes downcast. "With neither of them alive, and me on the run, I don't know who takes it now that we're all gone. They had no blood children."
She nodded. Sofia. Another adopted, but rather than being adopted into crime, she was adopted out of it. There were several similarities though. "The orphanage I came from was good, the nuns there were devout... I never could understand their belief in god. Their devotion I didnae understand. But they were good people." She quietened again. "What's Sofia like?" She asks, somewhat curious.
She nods as she falls silent, her eyes drifting around the car, before heading out to look at the country side. "My father was a devout Christian too, which is why he was a constant visitor of the orphanage.." She smiled slightly. "And no one else was, in our group. I still don't know how someone like that could've worked with Gerogin." Her tone turns bitter at the end, her eyes hard and ... sad.
She grimmaced, the thought of raping and butchering children ... ugh. She shook her head, trying to dispel the mental image it conjured. She shook her head again, almost unable to conjure words as she stared out the window. "I don't ... I still don't know how they could do such a thing. That person or mae father." She shivers, her eyes almost haunted. "It's almost like, they live two different lives."
Amelia shrugs. People had choices, and those choices showed who they were, to take choices that conflicted each other was not something she understood, or likely ever would. She just leaned into the chair, looking at the country-side through the windows, wondering where her life would lead now. The FBI agent was .. very nice, despite the monotone she talked in, she had niceness even if you couldn't hear it in her voice.
Amelia frowns at her clothes, which not only are ripped to form bandages, but also stained with blood. Likely it will never be properly removed. "I'm not sure what I can do with mine, bleach them maybe?" She replies, looking slightly concerned. With those people whom Natalie was dealing with, coming in like this wasn't presentable.
She looks down at her clothes, then looks at Natalie. She was going to give her new clothes? Well, after the food and the care it wasn't too surprising, but Amelia still couldn't fathom why she was being so helpful and nice to someone who'd attempted to kill her. That was what Amelia's first intention was. "I .. I guess." She replies, looking back at the clothes she was wearing. "They probably needed that at least a month ago." She added morosely. She was blissfully unaware that the gun she'd clutched like a life-line for four months sat discarded in the boot.
Amelia looked at her slightly in disbelief. "Where was I to get clothes? I was going to steal them?" She asked, her tone almost incredulous. The idea of being able to have clothes when on the run and with almost no money was ... quite rediculous to Amelia. Although she could've stolen if she'd had to.
The Scottish girl calmed down quickly, most people wouldn't usually think about what entailed being a fugitive or a runaway, and after all that kindness from the FBI agent, she wasn't about to be insulting or anything of the sort. That would be biting the hand that gives you gifts. America was land of money, and she had no doubt that the 'not a lot' was probably quite a bit for Amelia. "It's been a while since I wore a dress..."
Amelia frowns slightly. "Their not very practical, I admit, but..." She smiles just slightly, "They look ever so beautiful...." The right ones of course. Amelia would never propose them for anything else than a special occasion, and never for running or chasing, or anything of the sort for that matter. But for dancing they were fine. "I like the long ones, the ballroom dancing ones..." Something of a secret favourite for the girl, who was usually seen out and about practicing, she wasn't really the delicate kind.
Amelia nods as she watches the old lady's house pass. "I've never really had a chance to wear a dress in the proper situation. Have you ever .. Ballroom danced?" She asked, looking up at Natalie as she voiced her question. It was something that had always held her fancy, the dancing in synchronized movement, to the melody being played in the background.
Amelia grinned with her, trying to imaging the monotoned FBI agent dancing in a ballroom dress and wondering what it would actually look like. She wasn't likely to ever find out. "I'd like to try it one day." She announced after the humour was over. Her eyes living in a dream that she'd used to keep herself from the falling over the edges of despair many a time.
"Yes, it wasn't a highclass one, but I did go until I was seventeen, when I was considered good enough to move on to other things..." Amelia then frowns slightly. "Or, my father chose to take me out because he thought I knew enough." Her father had some odd whims and desires at times, though she'd never really enjoyed school that much. Even the sporting side of it wasn't too much to her tastes, despite her being one for physical activity.
"I didn't like it much either." Amelia replies, her voice slightly annoyed. It didn't help that there was all these school politics which went on. This person's popular, this one isn't... It got so annoying that most people pandered to the popular ones..
RPG
Wing City Main Entrance