He won't lie, living in the alleyways isn't an easy day to day thing, but he's long lost track of when it began, nor does he care if it will ever end.
The grime between his finger nails and the dirt in the creases of his eyes, they mirror the ash filled thoughts in his mind.
Ash harbours smoke and embers, and he cannot rest when it's still alive. So sleep wafts by him and garbage sustains him, while the vacuum left by fire coerces his blood to simmer and his teeth to clench.
He doesn't know if he should feel more than that, he tries not to.
~Scar: On the pervasive effects of hatred on his life
no particular time in canon-earlier then meeting Mei Chang and his start in helping Amerstris against father