|Name: Deandra E. Jones|
|Race: Shapeshifter, Coyote|
|Shortdesc: Dusky skinned, dark haired girl in jeans and a t-shirt.|
|Position: Pickin' your lock.|
|Julia Jones as Deandra E. Jones
WARNING: This information should be considered OOC Knowledge unless one has the IC means to access it.
Things were pretty straight forward for Deandra. First, there was the father and mother who used her as a look out when she was old enough to talk and walk. Mom was an alcoholic junkie who was always looking for her next bump. Dad was a bronco riding, half Blackfoot Indian who was savvy with breaking and entering, bypassing alarm systems, hot wiring cars and brawling. From these two, she learned everything she would use in later life.
Sometimes, children just slip through the cracks. Dex, as she preferred to be called, was one of those kids. she attended school with enough irregularity that she didn't make friends and if she managed to, she usually lost them when she suddenly had to move because good 'ol mom or dad had a warrant out for their arrest. Sure, there was the occasional friend she managed to hold onto that understood what kind of life style she was living but they were rare. Children's services were called in once or twice but she was always returned to her parents, and they didn't beat her and they took her on great adventures, so she was always happy to return home.
When she was twelve, they stole a car and drove it almost completely across country. It was a big SUV and it was more than comfortable. At least, more comfortable than the no tell motels that they often stopped in. Unfortunately while sleeping in the back seat, the car was picked up and towed away. With mom and dad no where in sight, Dex tried to run but her efforts were thwarted by the police. They tossed her in the back of the cop car, and she spent several nights in the station, hoping to hear that she was bailed out, that her parents were there to get her.Her parents never showed, she plead guilty to a plea of grand theft auto and was sent to prison for kids. Later on, after serving several years and turning sixteen, she was put on probation and transferred to a group foster home. Here is where things would turn ugly.
Life in the group foster home was worse than anything she had ever experienced in her life of crime with her parents. Speaking of her parents, they hadn't contacted Dex. They hadn't attempted to bail her out of jail, they hadn't come to rescue her as they had times before. She suspected they were in jail, or possibly dead but she was too frightened of the answer to find out for herself. It was easier to keep hope that they would find her, that they would someday show up and take her away from this hell, if she didn't know for sure.
The two years she would spend in the group home were horrible. One bully especially seemed to have it out for her, an older boy named Michael. She hated Michael to his core and he seemed to take special, sadistic delight in what he did to Dex. When threats to tell the social worker or the foster family who owned the group home were brought up, he threatened to cut out her tongue. The next day, as a reminder, he left a cow tongue from the grocery store in her foot locker. Frightened more than she had ever been frightened before, Dex was sick for three days and couldn't get out of bed. This torture would continue until Michael turned eighteen and was told that soon he would have to leave the group home. Dex had just turned seventeen and in his last six months, he did everything he could think of to make Dex's life miserable. On his last night there, he committed the ultimate crime and kidnapped Dex.
Kidnapped, he took her out to the desert, but there was a surprise waiting for them both. It was the night of the full moon and a couple of shape shifter who occupied the desert valley there in Las Vegas, were running that night. As he tossed Dex from the car, bloody, beaten and near death, it was this small group of shapeshifters that took mercy on her. If it hadn't been for their healing and later infection, Dex would have no doubt died there on in the desert. They took her in, the small gathering and helped her through her infection and the following full moon, when she turned, they decided that she was family. She was seventeen years old.
It was the summer of 1993 when she was infected. Taken in by the small group of coyotes, she slowly learned the ways of the shifters. She also got her GPA. Somethings, however, don't change and Dex couldn't seem to find a job that she could tolerate. She preferred to get by as she always had, foraging checks, stealing and hot wiring cars. Although she tried and her new family tried to keep her on the proper side of the law, it wasn't easy. Finally, when she was twenty one, although they dearly loved Dex, they decided that for the good of the group, whom were all under cover shifters, they asked her to leave. They gave her a wad of cash and sent her on her way.
For several years, until she was nearly twenty, Dex made her way as any drifter would. She stole cars, took them to chop shops, made connections with the local underground and soon there wasn't a place that she could go that she didn't have some kind of connection. A crashing place, someone who could use her talents in exchange for some cash or a hot meal. To say that she enjoyed being a criminal might have been an overstatement, but this was the life she knew. It was what she was best at. Slowly, she was gaining a foot in the underground.
Living as a drifter, she ran into a man who was a coyote as well. It was an evening and she had gotten the bad end of a bar fight. Despite knowing she would heal, when she limped her way into the parking lot, playing it up for the humans that might be watching she arrived at her truck to find a man standing there. A man who smelled of coyote. It was only when she approached that he realized his white knight act, was for not. There was nothing wrong with the young woman that she couldn't heal on her own, but he was quite enamored with this tough girl who was one of his own.
They had what some might call a whirl wind romance. He was running under cover and was still working as a successful surgeon. He was strong, he had to be to see his patients laid open as he did and not loose his control. He also had been infected young but hsi parents were well to do and helped him, rather bought him, all the help he could handle. He finished medical school and went on as he had been going to before the infection. Now, he was quite in love with this young woman who was no more than a thief. A good thief, top notch even, but his parents would never accept this. Granted, he was close to his thirties and he was in her mid twenties and he didn't NEED his parents permission but he felt he did owe them that much.
For several years, they lived together and it wasn't until she was twenty seven and he was nearly thirty five that Dex put a stop to the relationship. Although she had enjoyed playing the meager house wife, who cooked, cleaned and took care of her man… it was after all less stressful than stealing, she couldn't do this forever. This just wasn't a life she could continue to live. He had bought her almost anything she wanted, something she had merely looked at. He had bought her dressed, a beautiful set of diamond earrings and when cleaned up and fed properly, she made quite the arm candy to take to his medical conferences and out on the town. It was only when rumors of the rich, successful doctor who was living with a woman who had a rap sheet as long as he was tall got back around to his parents that things began to get ugly. His parents threatened to cut him off, and Dex, wanting to do what was 'right' put an end of the relationship.
He begged her not to, told her he didn't care if his parents disowned him. She however, did. She left the following evening while he was on duty at the ER at the hospital he worked at. In her hand, she held the 100,000 check that his parents had given her to do what she had done. But she didn't do it for the money, she did it because she loved Thomas and wanted the best for him. The money would keep her out of trouble for a while at least.
She headed for New Orleans and grifted there for several years. The tourists were thick, things were being rebuilt and it was easy pickings. It wasn't until she was nearly thirty five that she decided that it was time to move on. With money in her pocket, she headed towards Chicago.
Thick dark hair is cut to just above her shoulders. A few random braids give her a careless sort of style, her skin a subtle clue to Native American blood somewhere in her ancestry. Along with that comes the subtle upsweep of her cheekbones and the small but unique difference in her eye shape. Those eyes, often squinting against the sun or simply hidden behind shades, are hazel. Touches of all the fall colors that the leaves might covet can be found there, golden, green and copper. Smooth skin, she has only a small smattering of very light freckles across the bridge of her nose. In frame, she is perhaps five foot and a handful, of slim build.
Casual, the clothes might come from second hand stores or the Salvation Army. Jeans that have seen better days but still have several moments ahead seem to be her favorite. Sometimes torn at the knee, usually worn at the back pocket and the cuffs are often decorated with fringes of wear, tear and washing. T-shirts with various logos, bands and slogans make up a majority of her woredrobe. Comfortable, cotton is the usual fabric of choice. Occasionally there is a warmer, knit shirt that could be a man's but for the most part, it's t-shirts and a hoodie in the cooler months. Boots are worn but functional and comfortable. Broken in just right and scuffed enough to show they too, have seen better days. Brown, they have a touch of mud to give them character.