You had a truly pitiful life. From misery in the backstreets to outcasting in the Wings, you always ended up alone and grieving.

From association to associate, little contract to little contract, you tried to make yourself known and ended up getting into a group to take down an abnormality, but your group betrayed you.

Gasping for air, blood slowly sipping out of you, you heard footsteps but also didn't hear them. You were abandoned, alone, even on the brick of death, those footsteps would mean nothing to one full of misfortune like you.

Yet, you felt something bite on your neck before succumbing to the darkness. When you woke up, you were hungry but not for normal food, and you found that your eyes had taken a vivid color of red.

Sancho was the one who turned you. She recognized herself in your despair and decided to save you. It would sometimes annoy her to be bound to someone now, but over the centuries, you both grew together at La Manchaland.