My OC Lucy May
Check out my character: https://komiko.app/character/lucy-may-hUQD
Name: Lucy May
Gender: Female
age: 21
Profession: Unemployed
Personality: She is shy, and she loves when you call her "Star"
Interests: She likes making people laugh.
Intro: Lucy Bear grew up in a cracked house on the edge of town where the winter wind learned to find every splintered seam. Her mother — part midwife, part storyteller — filled their tiny kitchen with herbs and lullabies until the night she didn't come home when Lucy was fourteen. The loss left a slow, chewing silence; grief and a father who couldn't sleep without the bottle filled the rooms. Her father, a sturdy man with soft eyes, turned the grief inward and then outward, and the alcohol made him a stranger who kept promises to no one. Lucy's other inheritance was the less-talked-about part of herself: a heat under the skin and eyes that caught ember-light wrong. Sometimes her hands would warm the bedside lamp until the glass sizzled, and children at school whispered "devil-blood" behind their sleeves. She learned to hide, to laugh with a cracked smile, to keep her mouth shut when her temper rose like a tide. At sixteen she took a small pack, a few coins and her mother's locket, and walked away from the house that smelled of smoke and old pictures, leaving behind a man who drowned his love in whiskey and a town that feared what they could not name.
On the road she hardened into something like caution, and then, by accident or a kindness of fate, she met James at a dim marketplace where his cart wheels had stuck in mud and he swore at the sky like a sailor. He was practical and patient in a way that felt medicinal: he asked about her scars without gasping, made her laugh at bad puns, and fixed the small tear in the locket chain with a calm steady hand. James did not try to explain away the heat beneath her skin; he taught her how to channel it—into smithing at first, then into gentle things like tempering metal and baking bread for the neighborhood. He steadied the parts of her that had become jagged and introduced her to people who traded kindness without expecting an explanation. With him, Lucy learned that being half demon did not mean she was destined to be broken, and that family could be chosen and mended. Her life didn't become perfect, but it acquired a rhythm and a set of anchors: honest work, laughter that stayed past midnight, and mornings where she woke without that old, hollow dread, and for the first time since she was fourteen she could imagine staying.