Jennifer Rose-Marie Lewis saw her brother more than she saw her parents.
Trinity and Charles Lewis had no time for their children until it was important. Until they were due to make a collective appearance at whatever new socialite soiree appeared, Jenny and Chris were just two people that happened to live in the same house as they did until the day they turned 18. Her mother was always out at some fashion show, modeling, working on her art and everything else. Her father was managing the finances of his companies or out on one of his affairs.
Her only real companion was Varro, as it should be – dæmons were, above all else, companions. When they were children, Varro would imitate her parents' dæmons; it was her belief then that if she was like them, they might actually show her some semblance of attention. Charles Lewis had a magnificent golden tamarin named Laressa whilst Trinity's was a mute swan by name of Vitri. Varro tried out both forms often, though he was never quite so beautiful as they were. It never worked, anyways.
Jenny's idea of love had been altered from a very young age. Most little girls dreamt of meeting their own Prince Charming, who'd whisk them off their feet and away into the sunset, where they'd marry in a beautiful castle and live happily ever after. They had their idea of love at first sight, being loyal to one person forever. She and Varro knew better. Her parents didn't love each other. They were cordial, at most. To this day, she couldn't remember seeing Charles kiss his wife or Trinity telling her husband, 'I love you'. Sometimes she wondered how they ever had kids at all. Their marriage was one carefully planned and thought out, akin to a sound business deal. Trinity's family were old blue bloods, with connections to the Royal family and beyond, but little money to boast of after so many years. Charles's family had wealth up to their ears, but they lacked strings to pull. By marriage, Charles gained his wife's pull in the political world, and Trinity could maintain the lavish lifestyle her station demanded. Love was not a factor.
So, by the time she was nine, Jenny and Varro both knew that her future husband was not going to be a Prince Charming that swept her off her feet. He was going to be a carefully selected individual, approved by her parents, having met certain requirements: attractiveness, breeding, money, politics, and so forth. They would have at least two children, to be raised by governesses and nannies, of course, and live in a manor house with etiquette classes in the Plaza, summers in Southampton, private boarding schools, and designer clothes.
Granted, she didn't always agree with that. Varro had listened to her enraged, bitter protests to their preplanned life, bristling and spitting with her, though only in the privacy of their own bedroom where such impropriety could be kept hidden. She had tried her hand at rebellion, just to see if they would notice her. She had nearly been arrested for vandalism twice, and once she'd been given an ASBO when she got caught tagging a building. Varro had always protested that bit, her eternal voice of reason, but why have a voice of reason if you weren't going to ignore it once in a while? A few words from her father, though, and it'd never happened.
When she was twelve, Varro settled. He took the form of a handsome silver fox, his fur a sleek, silvery grey-white down his back and face, with black fur on his muzzle, ears, underbelly, legs, and paws. He would always sit in her lap whenever she was sitting down, trot smoothly beside her feet as she walked. She loved him with all her heart.
A part of her, though, was slightly unnerved. Trinity Lewis's favourite winter coat was made of silver fox fur.
Once, out of curiosity, she did a little digging into her dæmon's form. Foxes were symbols of cunning and wiliness as well as mischievousness, but they weren't always evil. In ancient Peru, the fox was seen as a warrior that'd use his mind to do battle. A Finnish myth featured a fox's intelligence besting both the malevolence of the wolf and the brute strength of the bear. In Chinese, Japanese, and Korean culture, the fox was considered the dæmon of certain goddesses and deities.
"Well, aren't we just the special ones?" Varro asked, weaving through her ankles and grinning up at her; she loved her dæmon.
As she grew older, she gave up on gaining attention through childish misbehaviour. It wouldn't do a damned thing for either of them. Instead, she decided to go a different route. She didn't immediately get married to some well-groomed show pony as soon as she graduated. She got a job instead. The idea of Charles and Trinity's daughter actually working was a laughable one, until it was a reality. She fit into the role of Public Relations like she was born to it, and it was there that she truly did realise her nature was that of the fox. Sly and wily, able to spin any lie and make it believable.
Refusing to give up her job soon resulted in a magnificent row with her mother, which Jenny eventually won. She was not about to be some good little trophy wife; it would drive her up the wall. Varro was not a domesticated animal, and neither was she.
Trinity was only slightly placated when Jenny began seeing Michael, her soon-to-be fiancé, and his gorgeous Siamese cat dæmon, Nira. Michael was well-off, with a good job and good breeding, up to standards.
But then, of course, came the job offer to work in a highly secretive government operation dubbed the ARC, though nobody told her exactly what her job was until she'd arrived and met one James Lester, a man with a reputation that proceeded him. His dæmon was that of a sleek, cool Egyptian Mau by name of Hester. The look on his face positively dared her to make some sort of joke about their names. Jenny knew better than to piss off the boss on the first day. Varro liked Hester, liked her professionalism and composure; she had a feeling that she and Mr. Lester would get on quite well.
But then she was introduced to one scruffy, unkempt Scotsman by name of Professor Nick Cutter and his snow leopard dæmon, and all her and Varro's hopes of the new job going smoothly went straight out the window.