Those of us who toe the line between good and evil, right and wrong. One foot on the feathery clouds of heaven, and the other, mired in the depths of hell. It's not something that particularly bothers me. I would say that it's more of a passing curiosity, something I think about when I fall too deeply into thought. I was raised this way, see. Perhaps as a punishment of sorts, given that I am a bastard child. In Gracelia, it's looked down upon, and some even consider us to be spawn of the devil. My red hair doesn't help my case either. My country is changing, as of late, but this belief is particularly stubborn, and I have encountered more than my share of people who still think this way. That's where the convent comes in. I was dropped off shortly after I was born, I guess so they could beat the devil out of me. It's funny, though, because I wasn't a red head for long. As soon as I was passed through the door, they dyed my hair black, and I was reborn. During the day, I feed the poor and soothe the weary, and they trust me.
