C was certain today was going to be interesting; for some reason she always had, had a knack for knowing just which days would provide the most entertainment for her otherwise boring and dreary life. She cast a glance across the room and watched the strange light patterns distorted by the leaves of the old oak outside the window appeared on the dark wood of the wall; suddenly looking down when she realized she wasn't in her own bed. With a slight air of disgust she pushed the sheets away from her body; there was something about the foreign smell of another person's sheets and clothes that C always found grotesque.
She paused, wondering why the family had even bothered to let her, a complete stranger have their bed. With a single hand she did her best to brush the frizzy tangles out of her long, thick brown hair; it was laughable what she must have looked like. She had slept in her clothes, torn pants streaked with mud and a t shirt several sizes too big (also painted with brown muck). Her shoes lay on the floor by the bed, mud stained, hole covered, falling apart and all; she had no socks.
C stood and stretched, trying to decide just how she could make sure this particular day was as interesting and entertaining as she could possible make it. She slipped her shoes on and hurried outside; happy the family she had stayed with was all late-sleepers. The sun was just shining over the trees, the distant buildings almost invisible against the intensity of the sun's glare.
You see, C was born rather boring; or rather she was born rather average. She was neither exceedingly beautiful nor ugly; skinny or fat; short or tall; smart or stupid; and she knew alchemy, but could hardly do anything beyond the basics. Her only true defining feature was the rather strange ability she had acquired one eve. The even stranger fact was that the date and time it had first occurred held no significance as one would suspect such a day would have. It wasn't her birthday, someone's death, an anniversary or anything else. She wasn't on the verge of death and C was quite certain that at the time no one she knew was in danger. C hadn't even felt when she awoke that morning that, that day would be interesting. In fact she had felt rather uninterested and bored, even when she discovered her ability, she found it disdainfully useless in some manner; especially in its limitations.
She had gone for a walk as she did afternoons, only to find herself quite irritated that the park bench was broken. It sometimes happened; teenagers would throw rocks and one would crush the wood, the temperatures or humidity would harm the solidity of the wood, or some fat woman would decide to sit down; either way it happened often, and as usual C was annoyed. As with any normal person she was completely startled when the missing chunk of wood on the bench that had snapped off suddenly appeared, rejoined to the rest of the bench.
The power wasn't difficult to control, she just had to know what it looked like and want it, and it happened. She had to be there, looking at it for it to work. There was no light, or bubble of electricity. The energy within her would fade, simultaneously the object she desired would appear; as though it had been there all along. It would be hard to explain to others, but it happened the instant she wanted it, and sometimes C wondered if she had actually done anything at all.
Amazing some might cry out, how absolutely utterly amazing to have gained such an ability. C knew those thoughts were crap; the energy she used was terribly small and didn't grow or develop, it would arrive in bursts. She had absolutely no idea where it came from. It just was. Sometimes nothing for weeks and then suddenly her body would thrum with almost uncontainable potential, other times she would just occasionally get a small thrum of energy in her core. Either way, C didn't use her power. She let it accumulate and grow, using it only when she had too, as long as she stored the energy, C didn't have to worry about what to do if something happened. She was prepared.
She stayed with her family for almost three months after her discovery before finally running away, her father and brother were both part of the military and C was smart enough to know her power would be seeked by the government. On the day C left, she sliced her arm with a razor blade and drew on her bedroom wall in her own blood;
'I am no Hero,
I am no God'
Following this she created her own corpse, razor blade outstretched in pale hand; a face twisted with pain. Blood covered the floors, and C slipped out the window and ran.
But now she was here, in East City, manipulating the people and using their pity and constant helpfulness to her advantage. Sometimes she would heal their wounds, sometimes return lost limbs; these services were the only payment she could manage but the people always considered it godly. They thought it was alchemy. But C knew it wasn't.
They would ask her, her name, and C would reply in a quiet voice, "C."
The people would wonder why she was named a letter of the alphabet; they were silly, believing that was her birth name. C's given name had been Alex Frederick. But she didn't need that name; for her new name was simply an abbreviation for Creation. For that's exactly what C did, she created something from nothing; she herself was a living philosopher's stone.