Elisayra had always been a rather odd girl, for a number of reasons. One such reason, was that she had always been rather proficient in going unseen. This of course wouldn't be considered particularly strange by normal standards, but Elisayra wasn't quiet by normal standards.
From a very young age, living on the streets of Ostlen, she found she could walk right up to stalls without anyone knowing she was there. She could pass by guards and watchmen without so much as raising an alarm. This realization had her believing for some time that she was in fact physically invisible. This incorrect line of logic was not uncommon for Elisayra, as she had quite the propensity towards allowing her mind to wander off into the strangest possible directions and convincing herself that it was true.
Because she thought she was invisible, Elisayra had decided to test her theory by trying more and more extreme things in an attempt to be seen. It started off small. Stealing food from stalls in the lower markets, as this was already necessary for her to survive, but quickly escalated into stealing coin, larger items, weapons, in some instances articles of clothing or jewelry from those in the upper districts.
This experiment of hers continues for quite some time, before eventually she got far too bold down by the docks, resulting in quite the exciting chase.
Elisayra had always been a rather odd girl, for a number of reasons. Another such reason was that after her discovery that she was in fact, not invisible, but rather so insignificant in the lives of city folk, so unimportant and forgettable that she may as well have been invisible, did she come to the realization that she rather enjoyed being seen. Even if it was negative.
It became something of a game, for no one else to play but her. Existing for her own self satisfaction, she enjoyed the thrill of being caught and chased down. She took pleasure in the excitement of being seen by others, to be pursued. Luckily her ability to go unseen allowed her to take what she needed to survive, allowing her to eat and drink and sometimes be warm. It also allowed others to become angry with her. She could steal nearly anything she wanted without being noticed, but that is the action of stealing itself.
People by nature are very good at recognizing patterns. It is one of the many traits that have allowed them to thrive and survive in the world. While the shopkeepers might not actually see Elisayra stealing, it got to a point where every time this one particularly disheveled looking half-elf entered in close proximity, something would go missing. This pattern recognition had made her someone infamous.
This, of course, was a bad thing. As Elisayra quickly came to realize that being chased off and hunted was fun and exciting, it was particularly bad for survival.
Elisayra had always been a rather odd girl, for a number of reasons. Another such reason, known only to the darker parts of her subconscious, never to be admitted by the waking side of mind, was the Elisayra was something of a Masochist.
Being hated wasn't all that bad, in fact, it was in some ways preferred. If she was lucky, the handsome dock hand would catch her, and punish her. She of course never got caught, as the alternate possibility of being handed over to the guards was more likely, the simple act of being chased sparked the fantasy and that fantasy was enough.
Elisayra didn't particularly enjoy being treated poorly by the citizens, being beaten and slapped and yelled at made her sad. It made her feel little, less than. But there was a part of her that wished the muscular smith would chain her up.
Perhaps it was a survival mechanism, a product of being scum. Perhaps it was just who she was, regardless it made the living hell of city life as a lower race female more bearable.
It wasn't until her infamy garnered enough attention in her usual spots, that finding food to eat was a real issue. Sometimes it would be days before she had a bite of anything to fill her stomach. She could try and branch into different districts, but it wouldn't do her much good. The upper districts nearest the estates could have money for her to steal, but she would have no one to sell it to. And even if she did have coin, she had already been forced out of nearly every area that sold something edible.
Elisayra was desperate, to the point that she thought it a real possibility she may die one night in a gutter somewhere. Elisayra was a half-elf. A lower race. Half elves were not seen as people, in the way that Humans or Dragonkin were, to be lesser was to be an animal, property, a bug, a plague. Something to be rid of. No one would be offering charity, no one would be providing help. Or so she thought.
It wasn't until she met Claire, that she began to have hope again. Claire was a half elf as well, and made her living as a whore in one of the brothels in the Trough, the district allocated to bastards, half breeds and ne'er do wells. It didn't bring in much money, but enough for her to offer help to some others who had found themselves on the brink.
Elisayra was brought into Claire's home, an abandoned and condemned cellar in the very pit of the Trough, where the refuse and runoff gathered into a stinking pile of filth. The scent alone was enough to make Claire struggle to keep down bile even after years of living there.
Claire had taken in several others as well. Each one offering their unique services to help provide for the group, though even among the bottom of the barrel, as a woman half elf she was still below them all.
Elisayra struggled to earn her keep. Stealing from the higher districts and handing the coin and jewels off to the others to be sold, her "cut" would be small, just barely enough to survive.
Despite Elisayra's unusual affinity for being used, she found it hard to get enjoyment from the abuse brought on by those around her. That is because they wouldn't hit her, touch or, even even speak with her. No one but Claire even regarded her. Elisayra would have been able to find a twisted pleasure in being spit on, hit, abused, used. Taken advantage of, but none of those here would dare dirty themselves with her.
Elisayra was a half elf, and a woman. She was as close to property as one could get without being a slave or livestock. To them she was filth among filth. In a way. This life was worse than when she was on her own, starving most days, because at least then she could feel something. She could feel the excitement of being chased, of being hated, of being hurt. Here, she was as good as dead, though somehow still alive.