[h1][color=f26522][b]Kali Inigo - Scorch[/b][/color][/h1]
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The small apartment was almost barren of all personal objects which would suggest a person was living there. Of course, but she had little to no intention of decorating the space she occupied. Since her siblings left, she thought there was no point in 'sprucing the place up' as her sister would frequently suggest. Without that nagging of the younger woman, she had no motivations to do so. It wasn't a home any more. It was simply a place to rest her head and recharge her batteries after a long night out. Between her day job and her nightly activities she spent very little time in the apartment, dedicating the living room to be a triage of sorts, both medicine and sewing kits lining the walls for when she returned. Even her bedroom was close to empty, containing a simple mattress against the back wall and a framed picture of her family.

Swinging her legs over the side of the couch, Kali slowly pulled herself up, taking a second to recover from the head rush which temporarily took over her body, causing the world to spin. Once she had collected herself, she moved unsteadily onto her feet which sunk into the old shag rug which was centred in the room, splattered with god knows what. Then again, that god knows what was likely blood Kali knew. 

Moving swiftly to the window, she placed a hand against the steadily cooling glass, gazing out across the street far below and the slowly flickering street lights that gradually sparked to life. Raising her free hand to her face, she tentatively rubbed at her eye, brushing the sleep from it as she pushed herself from the window, stumbling her way through the low lit room to her bedroom. Fumbling tentatively against the wall, she finally found the light switch and flicked it on, hissing quietly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

She hated this room. More specifically hated the mirror which rested in the corner. No matter how much she despised it and all she could see within it, there was no avoiding it. No getting rid of it. Her mother had given it to her as a congratulation of her graduation from Recruit at her firehouse, the small firetruck carved into the mirrors wooden frame an ever present reminder of that. 

Skirting around the mirror tentatively, she instead quickly redressed from shorts and tank top to her more concealing clothing she wore to go outside. Black leather pants and black long sleeve were the attire for tonight, all pulled together by a leather hooded jacket and heavy combat boots, the outfit simple and dark which made it even easier to fade into the background. 

Now covered, she found it easier to face herself in the mirror in the corner of the room, stepping over to it hesitantly. A woman of above average height stared back at her, broad shoulders and chest inclining themselves to hard physical labour. Where a relatively attractive face should've resided, half of it was hidden in a shroud of dark brown hair which was pulled across the right side of her face, dark green eyes glinting in the low light though one was currently concealed. Where it didn't quite cover, the faintest hints of silver scarring began, the most visible expanse starting  at her jaw and travelling down her exposed neck before vanishing beneath her hood. Despite the clothing that covered her now, she was all too familiar with the patch work of scars that spread over her skin. She had traced them many a time after all. 

Pulling herself from her internal contemplation, she moved back into the living room, slinging a bag she had packed earlier over her shoulder before flipping her hood up, locking the door to her apartment behind her as she left the building to start a long night of prowling the streets for an excuse to burn someone. 

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