"To my people, I'm a hero."
Katy Saskassa. Everyone knew her: a small girl, scrawny, twig-skinny, and with cold-blue eyes that still radiated warmth. Warm, but... solemn. Solemn, but... friendly? Solemn, friendly, and with that one jutting right fang... cocky? A strange case, indeed, a walking contradiction in action and aura. At school, she never ate the lunch, instead opting for her friends' scraps, and she preferred it when other people fixed her long, deep black hair for her than doing it herself. Despite her skinniness, she still exuded an exited, exuberant energy, even as she trembled weakly when standing still. Everyone always wondered why she was so weak and skinny, and the aura would always dim, the mood dropping on everyone like a ton of bricks. A plea with her eyes, and alike in voice, something of personal experience: negligent parents, barely home most of the time, and never bothering to teach her how to cook her own food. She cried, and ever