April's first memory is of a dead, discarded world. She was standing alone in what was once a clearing, or perhaps a plaza; the warped and molded shapes of the spikes and spires surrounding her could just as possibly have once been buildings as trees, it was impossible to tell. The sky bled black and purple through gashes that winked and wailed, and the ground knew what it was to drink deeply of its lover's soul wherever the splashes touched down in tidal waves. There were no people, but there were things that stared and shifted and sloughed, and she didn't dare meet their gazes.

She knew only two things. The first thing she knew was a name, and she quickly decided it was hers. Perhaps it hadn't been before, but it was now, and that was all that mattered. The second thing she knew was that she was a creature of intention, able to be who and whatever she pleased, and that whatever had brought her to this point, she had chosen to be a creature who couldn't remember. It wasn't sad or mournful when she slipped out of that world. She couldn't remember if it was supposed to be.

Making it on your own in the Tangle is never easy for anyone, but when you're able to remake yourself every day into the perfect person for whatever you'd be facing, you certainly had a leg up on the competition. Her first few years on her own were strange; barely the same person at all day by day, everyone who met her meeting a different person altogether who wouldn't exist the following morning, but eventually, she began to find her preferences. A tone here, a curve here, a splash of personality here or there, April started to develop recognizable staples. By the time she started finally making friends, she'd practically developed a sense of self. It was preference, in the end, that drove her to find who and what she wanted to be. She liked long hair, so she gave it to herself. She found freckles attractive, so she covered herself in them. She preferred kind people to cruel ones, so she made herself kind. She found a love for beautiful things, and so, she made herself beautiful. And of course, she discovered that sex felt nice, so she made herself perfect for that, too.

She gathered experience, everywhere between the many interconnected worlds she flitted. Her ability to cultivate beauty translated into skill as a florist, and her ability to find it in nature translated into a photographer's eye. She was a model, a waitress, a designer, a dominatrix, but what gave her the most joy was the long-sought and now finally- achieved feeling that, even when she was none of those things, she was April Cloverleigh. She was April, and between all her skills, she was her own greatest achievement. After years and years of building herself after stepping free of the world that time had forgotten, she was ready to establish herself and commit to stable personhood at last. So, she had a name, she had a body, and she certainly had jobs, but what else did she need?

Ah. Somewhere to live. Right. Becoming someone that didn't need rest or sleep every night was starting to not quite cut it anymore.

April tried out a few different living arrangements, but none of them quite suited her the way she would like. The homes all felt cramped and ill-fitting, the communes were too open and uncivilized, and all the humble proposals to be the bride of nobles and royals felt too suffocating and restrictive. It was frustrating, as someone who had curated herself from the ground-up not to be able to curate her own place to exist in the same way. But that was a skill reserved for those with the ability to weave reality itself; April could certainly afford to “rent” a sizeable pocket dimension, but without the technical ability to morph it to her will, it would just be useless potentiality sitting in non- space and burning a hole in her pocket.

And then, she met Muffin Knight. Pointed her way by several mutual acquaintances, and also searching for a place to live, it was practically serendipity to have happened upon her. A gifted essokineticist of her own age and comparable temperament? April couldn't help but wonder if she'd wished so hard she'd accidentally conjured the woman herself.

The woman who had invented herself had finally found a life that she fit inside of, and as she would soon become, a partner to enjoy it with. April Cloverleigh closes her eyes to sleep, and for the first time in her memory, awakens exactly the same the next morning. And she is content with that at last.

?????: Eldritch landlord whose name defies pronunciation. He likes April the most, she deals with him whenever they need to.

Sydell Okiro: Old friend from her waitress days. Reliable, earnest, and crushing hugely on Muffin. April holds his hair back when that doesn't work out for him.

Mysca Vane: Whymsite mage who seems oddly insistent on some preexisting relationship with April, though April has no memory of this or them.

Swipe: Fey House Lord who is *incredibly* insistent that April take his hand and bear him, in his words, "many and variegated children. Annoying, and an annoyingly good fuck.

Wuxy Tantercrux: April's ditzy but endearing talent manager and agent. Tryhard in the best way.

Name Shasri: Old friend and confidant from the early days. Gave April a roof and safety. They check in every now and then.

Rhys Far: Contact within the Wayfarer's Guild, which is basically Muffin's union. Also sometimes her agent.

Trasphalium: Angelic ex-boyfriend. Booty calls occasionally.

Nydas Fyru: Minotaur who took, in Muffin's words, April's "monsterfuckerginity". They haven't seen each other in years, but they sext *daily*.