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xxxxxArizona is the last place a freckled, red-headed stepchild belongs and yet that is here Shelby was born and raised. Hers is a classic American tale: Mom and Dad meet, marry and have a baby, only to divorce a few years later. Dad is rarely seen afterwards, leaving room for Stepfather to enter the scene. Add the usual chaos of puberty striking a few years later and theirs was not a happy home. Screaming matches were the norm, and things finally came to a head when Shelby's mutation made itself known. Her stepfather was ex-Navy and fond of nautical paintings; during one spectacularly bad fight, the perpetually frozen schooners began to actually toss and sway on the eternally stormy seas. What had been a routine clash between the two became a full on panic between all three and at the end of it, Shelby stormed out (pun not intended) swearing she'd never come home again.
xxxxxAnd she never did.
xxxxxFrom that point on, she cast her lot with other street kids. Smart enough not to get mixed up in turning tricks or sticking meager earnings into her veins, she looked to creativity to keep herself fed. As a busker, she was able to make enough to keep food in her stomach, even if it didn't sometimes stretch to a roof overhead too-- usually she could find someone's couch to crash on for a little while before having to move on. She tried her hand at a little of everything, whether it was fiddling around with instruments, fire-hooping, playing the living statue or any other idea that popped into her head or could be borrowed from others. Most of her success came from chalk-painting though, and talent hewn from some natural talent and not a little bit of borrowed ability from her mutation. She even tried to use her full ability-- being able to animate images-- for awhile, playing it off as a magic trick, before public awareness of mutations became too much and attitudes turned against people like her. No matter how innocuous her ability, she decided it was better to keep her head down...and move on.
xxxxxSo move on she did, hopping from city to city, riding the network of underground activists, wheelers, dealers, peddlers and dreamers. She learned to become what was expected of her from any given group, putting on and taking off labels as easily as others changed clothes. If it meant a place to sleep and the chance to score a free meal, she was there with a fist in the air or a helping hand, as was needed.
xxxxxIt has by no means been an idyllic voyage of self-discovery. She's had run-ins with the cops, with gangbangers, with drunks and methheads. Some targeted her for her age, either to help or take advantage of, and usually her ability to lie at the drop of a hat and run even faster has kept her from too many scars, either psychic or physical. But after three years on the road with no sight of safe harbor, living on the fringes has begun to take its toll-- Shelby is shrewd, manipulative, suspicious and has lost most of her morals along the way. She's unapologetic about being independent but it's beginning to wear, feeling like she constantly has to look over her shoulder. So she's chosen New York as a likely place to hide.
xxxxxIn a city this large, who's going to notice one more in the crowd?
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xxxxx Shelby can animate images no matter what surface they decorate or material they're crafted from. She has to have line of sight, the images must be two-dimensional, and pictures larger than the size of a human body require strict concentration, but otherwise she has full control over her ability. Tattoos can become animate, or paintings in galleries, or children's books. If it is drawn, inked, chalked, painted, sketched or even scuffed in the dirt, she can have them come to life and frolic over the surface in any way she chooses. She can even switch them between surfaces, although this breakthrough was somewhat traumatic.
xxxxxHer next goal is to see if she can have them lift up and amble off of their supporting medium; so far this have been beyond the scope of her reach.
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