Bio

Looks:   Animi, with her 6'Something, Un-Muscular frame, looks just about like any other
         cute city girl with her blonde hair tied up in a bun behind her head, green eyes
         and lightly tanned skin running around in a pair of name brand jeans and vest over
         a thin or heavy t-shirt, depending on the weather.

History: TL;DR version before, long story short -
         "Oh my god when I was a little girl I had these weird dreams, and it turned
         out this one person was some sort of blood sucker, and holy crap I just
         can only now really remember any of it and sometimes I feels like everything
         until then was a dream!" 

Nimbus:  As she focuses, a faint aura starts to slowly fill the air, like the glare
         of a warrior, slowly followed by the sounds of tribal drumming...

Tool:    A very beautiful, innocuous looking bronze mirror, it's backside has been
         carefully and lovingly engraved with a series of what would look like 
         incredibly intricate etchings, with hide a series of runes within their
         twisting patterns.

'Animi Causa' lead what was basically a standard, boring, childhood life. She did things,
had some friends, dressed like a boy, had a pet frog, told ghost stories...
Didn't say it was a standard childhood of say, a young lady. just a standard childhood.
The uniqueness was that she managed to have this kind of happy life while living in
an inner city orphanage. It was very hard to keep her spirits down, and she was
generally an instrumental member of any misbehaving. 

Her first brush with the mystical world was when she was all alone one night. It was like
a dream, a vision, one she was completely awake for, a lucid dream, perhaps.
She wandered the orphanage, which was dark, empty, and rather run down looking. She saw
bones, ragged clothes, scurrying rats. It took every bit of her brave little soul
to keep on going, until she heard the chewing noises.

She rounded the corner, and came face to face with something. Something dark, something 
hideous, something that was clearly eating someone. She screamed, and didn't stop until
she was shaken awake by one of the caretakers.

The next day, one of the children had run away. Gone in the middle of the night. Maybe
kidnapped. Animi had a strange tingling sensation at the back of her stomach, as if
something was trying to remind her of something she saw, but the dream was gone.

It took eight years, enough time for her to become a young woman, and unable to stay 
in the orphanage, to understand that the reoccurring dreams she had had around that 
same day, every year, marked something terrible. It was that eighth year, just before 
the night of the dream, that she took action. 

She was prepared. She had taken an early nap, and had a flashlight, and a crowbar she 
'borrowed' for self defense, and to help her break into the orphanage. 

That night, she saw the elderly caretaker, the wizened old woman that had taken care 
of her for years, bite into the neck of one of the younger children, and seem to 
slowly drain the life out of him. It was slow, almost too slow. She could see the 
life drain out of the child's face, and she could feel a chill on the air.

A flash of inspiration, like a glorious summer warmth filled her. It was like she 
could hear the world. She could hear the slowing heartbeat of the child, she could 
hear her own hammering pulse, and she could feel the absence...

And it was gone, and the old woman was staring into her eyes, and it was all she could 
do to swing her crowbar madly, shrieking...

She was arrested, given a very hard slap on the wrist for breaking and entering. Apparently
the old woman didn't wish to press any charges, she had 'understood' the desperation
of a young girl who was thrust into the world with no knowledge of what was right or wrong.

She spent the next few nights in various alleys. She was never quite sure how she had
gotten around between moments of lucid coldness, and the moments of blank madness. She could
feel the very world staring into her from all directions.

"Awakened" he called it, when he touched her cheek to rouse her from the cold madness 
that seemed to grip her head. She was "Truly Awake" now, and she would never sleep the 
same again.

He was right. Even in the safety of his apartment, which he assured her was safe, she 
would find the smallest places she could fit into to sleep. She spent her waking time, 
when he wasn't trying to teach her about her powers, thinking over everything she had 
learned as a child.

The older kids always joked that the yearly runaway was spirited away by boogiemen, like 
some sort of offering. What about the dreams? What was all that? She turned away from her 
studies, becoming more and more involved with the mysteries that plagued her childhood. 
In some ways, this may have been a good thing. She learned quicker in practice then in
classrooms, although she often paid for failures in wounds. Still, the man would find 
her, and bring her back to his apartment, and tend to her.

When she has passed her second decade, she found herself alone again, but with a seeming
connection to an order calling themselves The Mysterium. Her skills were varied, and quite
useful for her hobbies of chasing the things that went bump in the night.

Even now, she thinks back on those two years.

She realized she never once questioned the name he gave her, and she never learned his.