This thread gives me strong urges to flush out Zel's backstory in more detail...

And I might do some for a couple of my other characters, as well.

Memories - Part 1

I sat on the cool ground, my back against the tall oak that had recently become my favorite spot for wasting time. I scanned the area around me, making sure nobody was around to bother me. I like my alone time.

Of course, with me sitting in the middle of a graveyard, there wouldn't be many people around. Obviously. However, I checked. Like I always do.

Satisfied, I let out a sigh. I fished into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a small, round object I found on my way over. It was a compact. Some lady must have dropped it during a recent service. Things like funerals tend to distract people from lost items.

My curiosity winning control, I flipped the lid open. The little pad for applying the powder was gone. That was fine. I wasn't planning on using it anyways. I noticed the mirror had a crack running diagonally through it as well. Must have happened when it was dropped.

I stared at my reflection for a moment. I was still surprised by how much my appearance had changed since being here in Nexus. I mean, sure, I had been demon possessed and an Abyssal for at least a little while. But, still...I had over twenty years of having a certain look, and knowing it well. These changes would take some time for me to get used to.

I closed the compact with half a mind to toss it away. But, on a whim, I shoved it back in my pocket. Never know when a mirror might be handy. I let out a yawn, placed my hands behind my head, and closed my eyes, drifting into my usual nap...


I was seven when my parents died. I still have some memories of them left. Not many. I had my dad's grey hair and eyes, and my mom's face. We lived in in of the smaller neighborhoods of Rembress. Still within the city's wall, but nowhere near the downtown area. My dad worked as a barman, and my mom worked at a bakery. They made enough money for us to live off of, but not much more. Still, they seemed happy. I used to love it when my mom was late coming home from work, because that meant she had some goodies with her when she walked in the door.

I went to school like most kids my age. Did my chores, did my homework, created the occasional mess in the kitchen. Pretty normal life.

I still don't know the details surrounding their death. I mean, I was seven when it happened. I wasn't going to look into the facts. And with everything that's happened since...well, never really had the chance to look into it.

Oh, I have my suspicions. I was told they were victims of a mugging on their way home from work. At that time, I accepted that. Why wouldn't I? It made sense. We didn't exactly live in the safe part of town. Not that there really was a safe part.

Some years later, I started thinking on those events more. My parents didn't work at the same place. In fact, they hardly ever got home at the same time. I also remembered that the year it happened was the year that the government was really starting to put its hands on everything. People protested, of course. And people disappeared. I never found anything that could prove it, but I made my assumptions.