Registry of the Evolved Database
File #19 Jul 2010 15:18
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 Dawn Olivieri |
I had always been intuitive. Keen to others' thoughts and feelings. Dad always said that I had a way about me. An unintentional ability to read people. Back then, he was right. I picked up on body language, on gestures and the like, but soon that grew into much more.
My childhood hadn’t been completely unhappy. In fact, I think my parents cared for me and my sister Carol all along. We were fed, clothed, schooled. Mostly.
My dad, Roderick, was a carpenter. He worked with his hands to put things together. My mother, a technical writer, her job was to take things apart. Our house was always full of discord. Mom and Dad couldn’t agree on much at all; particularly when it came to us children. Dad was our encourager, the man who built us up, while Mom felt it better to tear our every action down, lest pride set in. Whenever things got really bad between them, Carol would take me to the closet of the room we shared and make me plug my ears and close my eyes. She wanted me to focus on something else. Something beyond our reality. I saw life in pictures in those moments, indiscernible images of black.
But then that was just the way we were brought up. Carol moved out as soon as she turned eighteen and I was left alone with the fighting and the constant corrections from my mother. And I continued to retreat. Constantly retreated to the closet or my friends’ houses. And the pressure was on from the start. Always pressured to be better, be more, be the best.
And that’s probably why I became so attached to Jean-Claude (JC). It happened rather quickly, he was two years older than me, and made promises my family couldn’t begin to make. He was there, supportive, considerate— everything I wanted; everything I needed. And so when things got even rougher at home; we ran away together.
I was fifteen.
Within months he said he loved me. I knew he didn’t mean it, but I gave into his desires anyways. We had a passionate romance, or whatever it was, but our childhood dreams were burst shortly thereafter.
I got pregnant.
And then, innately, I came to realize something. Not only could I read people, I could feel their desires. JC wanted to run away.
I ran first.
Fifteen and pregnant, there was no place to go but home. For the first time in a long time I told my parents the truth. I didn’t lie, I didn’t pretend everything was okay, but in doing so, I sealed my fate. They wouldn’t accept me back. My father, the man I had so fondly referred to as Daddy, disowned me. But there was someone who took pity on me, someone who was still there when things fell apart.
Carol had always been there for me. She took me in and helped me the best she could. She came to every doctor’s appointment, and was there for the delivery. She was my saving grace through it all.
But once again, someone else’s desires outweighed my own. Carol craved something. She longed for the baby that grew daily in my belly. And so, after Amanda was born, I ran again, leaving my daughter behind to be raised by my sister. I was too young to raise Amanda; unclear on who or what I was. It was a hard decision, and every day I wondered about my little girl. But I ran anyways.
This time I found a place I belonged.
The Sullivan Bros Carnival was the kind of place people like me could thrive. Joseph was kind. He made me feel at ease just by being himself. For the first time in years I’d found a man that reminded me of my own father; a kind of paternal replacement that I hadn’t imagined I’d ever have. Something about him exuded understanding, compassion, and patience. It’s because of Joseph that I stayed for so long, working as a fortune teller of sorts, able to tap into people’s most intimate desires.
It was in the carnival I got my first tattoo. The ink was alluring in ways I can’t describe. People’s desires and forms began to imprint their images onto my skin with the help of Samuel, one of the Sullivan brothers.
We weren’t just a carnival. We were a family; people joint together by something bigger than ourselves, a purpose whereby we could live and operate together and grow in our unique gifts and talents. Joseph constantly wanted us to be aware of that. And for the first time in my life, I belonged. I knew the desires and longings of the people around me, and for the first time, I felt genuinely wanted, and I knew I had a place I could belong.
I’d never felt part of something before it. For the first time I found purpose. I found comfort. I found people I could depend on. Growing up my parents were either fighting or not there; I had no one. But at the carnival, I had ties. I had people I could go to if I needed them.
The carnival provided me a place to belong but also a strange melancholy set in. I longed to know my daughter, but she needed better than I had. Carol could provide her with a sense of security and normalcy I never had. The family was supportive, yet there was always some underlying oddity that perhaps only I could feel. I knew shortly after I’d arrived that Samuel was unsettled, but Joseph was in charge. While Samuel left me mildly uneasy at times, I knew that Joseph could keep him in line with his unusual sensitivity and compassion for people like us.
And then there was Edgar.
He’d been at the carnival before me, and he taught me how to smile again; how to laugh again. Made me feel wanted; part of something. And there was always a spark between us. He was— or is— my best friend.
He threw knives and I became his assistant. I trusted him; and he never hit me. Not once. He showed me how to live in the carnival; taught me to trust again. And he taught me some of his own skills, like how to throw knives.
He could run so fast; he never stopped running. Neither of us did. We ran from a past, we ran from conflict, and in a way we ran right into each other. He was rough around the edges. Used to running. I loved him. Still do, if I’m honest. But I never told him. Not once did I say it. Throughout my entire life when people said they loved you, it meant that they went out of their way to hurt you. Maybe that’s why I never told him. But it was true just the same.
Ours wasn’t the romance of history books. It was slow. Methodical. A mutual secret; a spot in a family. All whispers. And secrets. And looks of longing, of desire. But little action. With the carnival it wasn’t simple; it wasn’t like relationships could just happen. We were family. If things hadn’t worked out where would that put the family? And so we continued the way we always had, with mutual desire bringing us together but loyalty to everyone else keeping us apart.
November 8, 2006.
The bomb. I think everyone can remember where they were when it happened. We felt unsafe. Everyone felt unsafe. And yet it was so far away from us; we were in Florida at the time, regrouping and reorganizing ourselves. I remember the first pang of uneasiness that came to me. It was a tattoo that formed on my arm—a picture of the daughter I’d given up so many years before. And then news of the incident trickled to our ranks. Carol’s husband Jacob died in the wreckage. After learning the news, I took a short leave from my nomadic family to see him buried. I saw the funeral from a distance. My daughter from a distance. I didn’t dare get close. It was cowardly in a way, but she didn’t need me. Carol didn’t need me. But I was there just the same.
After the bomb, for us at the carnival, things turned back to the way they always were. We continued to tour. We continued to live semi-normal lives as open freaks. In fact, we were relatively settled again. The government was trying to route out terrorists and here we were, living in a kind of bubble, connected closely to each other and far apart from anyone outside.
Joseph consoled us constantly. He told us it was just another act of terrorism on home soil. It was disconcerting, less people went out. That meant less people at our carnival, which meant less revenue. And maybe it’s a silly thing to think about, but taking care of our family was the most important thing. For months things were difficult for us. Financially we tightened our belts and while we’d already had pooled resources some of our cohorts felt the need to search outside the carnival to contribute to family funds. I was among them. Some of us turned to theft, I turned to a kind of manipulation. Until Joseph found out. His disappointment was palpable. I stopped. He said we’d weather the storm, and like a child, I believed that this was the worst it was going to get.
I settled into our life again. We all did. Well, we were settled until February 18th, 2007. That’s when we were outed. All of us were outed. Sylar was blamed for the bomb; people like us were known to exist. Everything about our world was changing, and as a carnival full of specials in open hiding, we were a target of sorts, even if we were careful and didn’t divulge our biggest secret, people like us were targets of a new kind.
There were rallies against people like us. Yelling matches. Politicking. At the carnival, Joseph pressed that it was business as usual. They’d never look for us in open hiding, he’d said. But Samuel grew more restless. I could feel his anger, his uneasiness, and his strange thirst for power. Yet Samuel was still part of my family, and family is the ultimate. And in all honesty, he wasn’t alone. Many among our ranks became angry. We’d known the non-evolveds wouldn’t be open to us long before the bomb. The Linderman Act was further evidence. Registration really was inevitable, particularly with non-evolveds so anxious about people like us.
The idea of registration made Samuel furious, he began to spout how we needed to take our place in the world and that they couldn’t stop us if they wanted to. He went out of his way to collect more people like us, bringing them into the family, and spreading his disgust with the idea of having to register to others. It was rampant, really.
In his fatherly-like wisdom, Joseph saw that Samuel was too dangerous to be contained. He contacted the Department of Homeland Security, determined to make peace at our carnival and keep the humans safe. DHS agreed to keep things on the up and up, taking only Samuel and leaving the rest of the carnival to their own devices.
DHS lied.
The raid was swift and sure. In moments most were in captivity. I’d slinked away through the help of several friends. I think Samuel died. Joseph was heart broken — that much I could tell, I didn’t need to touch him to know that. The double-cross left a mark. And everything I’d known and loved was taken from me in an instant.
Even those that had escaped had to lose touch for our protection. It was like starting over; rebooting life.
Alone.
Again.
And angry. We weren’t hurting anyone. We weren’t damaging people. We hadn’t done anything. And DHS split us up. They destroyed my family. I was on my own all alone. Again.
Edgar and I— we were apart. I forgot how to really smile again and got even better at faking it. I was crushed. Lonely for him. For all of them, but him especially.
But this time I was all the wiser. I assumed a new last name, and hid among the normals, determined to blend, if only for awhile before I find a strategy to release that anger. I managed to move to New York and join a ring of psychics, most of whom lived by chance rather than any innate ability to tap into someone else’s psyche. I was gifted. And after the carnival, I had the showmanship to sell it. Beyond that, I had the ability to tell people what they wanted to hear. People are always willing to pay more for what they want. It would’ve been easy to manipulate people based on their desires, but I tried to be responsible. Mostly. Sometimes.
Beyond that, I had a knack for sales of any form. I could sense what people wanted; like a cheat of sorts. It made for an excellent second job and another way to just blend. The department store wasn’t interested in hiring me because of my physical presence, but the tattoo parlour liked my ink. And it was a subculture I easily sunk into.
Today I do both. I work with a psychic ring, telling fortunes, reading tarot cards, and I book appointments for ‘Just Ink’ while apprenticing as an artist (still long ways to go, but hey, my tats are cheap because of it) and I can tell when a client likes my work which is a bonus.
But despite my work and artistic bent, I’m not settling, I haven’t settled. I won’t. There’s a strange longing within me for that family that I so desperately miss. I wonder what happened to them all. Edgar especially. And a quiet determination to get the revenge against DHS for what they did to our family.
Stoic - To people she doesn’t trust (or doesn’t really know), Lydia has a kind of constant brave face, hardened by her past. This face, however, includes a kind of small, yet not-quite-genuine smile. When she trusts people this stoicism disappears, melting away into a genuine version of herself.
Sensitive - While she might not seem super emotional herself at times, Lydia is highly sensitive to the feelings of others. She tries to accommodate them to the best of her ability and listens to them as much as she can. Further, with her ability, she’s able to understand people in ways others can’t.
Closed - Lydia is pretty closed about her past, lest it connect her too much to the Carnival and the registration of her family. Further, she left her old life behind. While she thinks frequently of her sister and the daughter she left, she feels that things are better they way they are, especially for Amanda.
Family - It’s the most important thing to Lydia. Hers consists of her carnival family who supported her when she had no one else. She would do anything for her family and that sense of belonging. Further, she would do anything in her power to protect them.
Friends - Lydia easily makes friendly connections, but is fairly cryptic about her past, feeding people one story or another. While her last name has changed, she knows it’s still not exactly safe. Further, she oftentimes appears warm and open, but reveals little of herself to others.
DHS - A deep seated hatred for the DHS permeates Lydia. She detests what they did to her family and how they double-crossed Joseph. More than anything she would like to see them suffer.
Intuitive - Lydia can generally figure out people’s intentions towards her, with and without her ability. She’s able to read body language, interprets tones of voice, and can sense whether someone is lying or not based on these things.
Protective - While Lydia doesn’t necessarily trust many people, those friends and family that she has, she is highly protective of. Once in her circle, a person is looked out for and well taken care of.
Maternal - This is a large component of her protective instincts. As a sensitive person, she can come off as mothering to those around her. Further, she takes care of her family much like a mother.
Non-Evolveds - While she doesn’t have a hatred towards them, non-evolveds can make Lydia feel somewhat uneasy, but thanks to her stoicism the uneasiness doesn’t come out much. Having lived in such a small community of evolved people, non-evolveds are, in a way, a bit of a mystery.
Empathy is the ability to know other people’s feelings and desires. This ability can manifest itself in several ways. First, Lydia can understand other people’s feelings. Generally, she needs to have a connection with the other party to be able to do this. For strangers, physical touch enables her this connection, for people she has an emotional attachment to, distance can vary; the stronger the emotional attachment, the more able she is to make that connection. Further, one of the main functions of her ability is to discern other peoples’ desires or needs. This can happen through various mediums like her tattoos (with the help of Samuel), crystal balls, tarot cards, palm readings, or tea leaves.
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Appendices
RP Hooks
- Ichihara Bookstore - Lydia owns this bookstore thanks to an unusual turn of events.
- Palmistry - Lydia can read palms thanks to that ability of hers; an activity she does in Ichihara Bookstore (and likely would do just about anywhere as all it requires is someone's palm, and her own two hands).
- Tarot - Lydia reads tarot at Ichihara.
- Tea Leaves - Another of Lydia's talents thanks to the Sullivan Bros. Carnival, she picked up a number of fortune teller-esque talents.
- Tattoos - Lydia does tattoo artistry in Ichihara.
- Carnie — Lydia was with the Sullivan Bros Carnival for a number of years.