Alicia Vaughn was born in Abilene, Texas, some three hours' drive east of Odessa; however, she doesn't remember the first thing about living there, only a few visits made during her childhood. Not long after her first birthday, Alicia's dad found employment with better pay, highly important now that the family had increased — they just had to move to Indianapolis for it. It's in Indiana, then, that Alicia grew up; she got into all the usual scrapes with neighborhood kids, and a few more for being that girl who always had to one-up the boys. At least until her mother put a foot down and started to insist a young woman do more ladylike things. Alicia flat-out refused to learn ballet. Her mother wouldn't let her take classes in swing dancing. They finally compromised on piano lessons; learning to play the piano well, well enough to appease her mother, kept Alicia out of most trouble from fifth grade through middle school. By high school, Alicia had learned to like the piano for its own sake.
At first, she thought she wanted to be a professional musician — which is why, out of the several that accepted her applications, Alicia chose to attend Ithaca College. …That lasted for about the first one and a half semesters, until she realized that not only did she start too late to be really good, music simply wasn't her passion; without that passion, she had no hope of being a competitive professional. Alicia finished her freshman year; drifted through general requirements in the first half of her second. Took a ceramics class on a whim — and decided she liked it enough to take another. Ultimately, although it took her until 2005 because of the major switch — and several odd jobs worked around classes — Alicia graduate from Ithaca College with a B.F.A. in Art, concentration in ceramics.
The next big issue was making a living at it. Which didn't really happen as such, not right out the door. Oh, Alicia moved to Manhattan with dreams of finding the perfect studio among the city's many options, building up experience, maybe after a few years going for the polish of a Master's degree… no, not so much. There simply wasn't professional room for yet another fresh new artist, not one with only college connections to her name and a minimal portfolio. She worked retail, set up her own miniature studio in her apartment, and worked on fixing those issues the hard way.
At the beginning of November 2006, Alicia was out of town for an art expo. This spared her the immediate aftermath of the bomb; in fact, she went back to Indianapolis for two months, staying with her parents while the city struggled to overcome its devastation. Upon returning, she found that her Chelsea apartment, while intact, had been picked over by looters — probably several times. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, though: the things which mattered most to Alicia, the ceramics and sketches and even her cheap keyboard, were essentially valueless in their context. Then February rolled around.
She'd thought the bombing of New York was something out of bad science fiction. Superpowers: icing on the cake. What bizarre development would hit next?
Property loss aside, Alicia was actually one of the relatively few people to benefit from the November 8th explosion, as she and friends took over The Painted Pot's studio on the edge of Red Hook; its former managers wanted out of the city. They may have been the smart ones, but to this day Alicia believes she made a good investment — in terms of her own professional and personal development, that's for sure. Financially, well, it hasn't been the easiest endeavor to keep the studio averaged in the black. Between her own pieces and her turns as an instructor, however, Alicia does well enough.
She was at work when the flashforward visions hit, fortunately not dealing with anything hazardous: while unattended hands on the potter's wheel did result in a mess, clay fortunately washes out. What she experienced was confusingly outside of any reference Alicia could bring to bear. Maybe that's how and why she persuaded herself it was just a dream — no matter what the rumormongers claimed. Visions of the future, her? Right.
No one foresaw the great freeze that lasted over three months, did they? Alicia wasn't as lucky that time, caught in the city with all the rest who didn't make it to parts distant before becoming seriously snowed in. The studio sat untouched for two months, and nearly all the greenware in it froze through (along with most water pipes). It wasn't a small setback, but they dug back in and kept going — either admirably determined or foolishly stubborn of The Painted Pot's crew, and only time will determine which.
When Alicia went to Register as became required in September 2010, she discovered she herself was unwitting Evolved. (Maybe she really did see… no, surely not.) Accordingly, her record was added under Tier 0, ability unknown — and a puzzled Alicia went back to an essentially normal life. Life that was only normal for two more months. On November 8th, Alicia, visiting the Suresh Center in an attempt to learn more about her quiescent Evolved ability, had the misfortune of being caught in the chaos of Roosevelt Island. It was a week and a half before officials reopened the bridge and let her go home again.
Since then, life has largely settled back down for Alicia; she chose not to go anywhere for the holidays, having no guarantee she'd be able to get back into the city (what with all the disasters, martial law, etc.). Many would probably say she should go elsewhere, but the life Alicia's made for herself is here, and she's not exactly keen on abandoning it just yet.
