Princess of the white rose

Edel AU. Yes. I did more.

2009-03-26T05:53:12Z

Goddamn plot bunnies!

THEY MULTIPLY!

Characters: Yuffie, Edgeworth, unnamed security, Mentioned: Paul

The best there is can’t get caught.

The best there is can do whatever she likes and wont get caught.

She’s sure.

That’s why she’s here. She’s been planning planning planning and thinking and focusing and she’s made it. (Better then fucking ever. The other terrorists would be proud.) She keeps forgetting what she’s doing in this hall, and the sense of not allowed is making it harder to get through then usual. She’s got shards of metal in her hands, sharpened and vicious and she’s positive for once that she knows where they’re going and doing and she’s sure sure sure and….

(scalpels are back where they belong in the sides of her boots, in her hands, that’s where they belong, Ghost. Not in her skin. In her hands. They’re weapons and beautiful to her. Shiny like silver hair.)

The lock snaps open with a pop and she kicks the door open so hard it cracks as it hits the wall, loud noise and snapping wood. Like twigs. It makes the man across the room jump, he’s practically out of his chair in a second and she remembers making him do this so many times…he always looked so funny when she surpri-She shakes her head and closes her fists tighter around the things from Ghost’s pockets. He keeps forgetting that she’s stronger then anything.

(can’t shatter things more then once)

He’s Up and trying to talk to her like she’s not important, like someone’s coming to get him, to stop her. Who would stop her? WHO? He’s obviously seen the danger and is now trying to use his words as a shield.

Words words words! All he’s made of is WORDS and none of them make her feel happy or safe or anything less then sharp. Broken edges and hard lines and wrong, so many kinds of wrong. She can remember his voice and so many different words, types of truths and lies and she can’t separate them now that she’s looking at him.

She sees him and remembers and now that she’s here she can’t focus as words now and then hit her hard and nearly knock her down. He’s not even acknowledging she has a name when he knows her name. He KNOWS and she knows he does she knows it.

Her memory betrays her playing pretty words (You aren't and will never be a burden, and I don't regret anything I've done. You're, ah...more important. Than anything I could do or say or believe. ) alongside painful ones (Patient 24519, you need to learn your place.)

She doesn’t know when the scalpels leave her hand, only that a second later they are buried blade deep in the desk and there are tears falling to meet where they’ll leave a mark. Permanent. It’s going to be there as long as the desk is. She wishes she were as strong, as able to leave a mark. Because right now she feels transparent, translucent. Invisible.

And he’s just watching her.

Watching her and using words that sting and stab and a scream bubbles up from her chest and she can’t keep in. Words of her own follow soon after, her mouth a direct connection to every last thing he’s broken or hurt cause he’s just as guilty as she is in breaking everything. Arms swing out wide as she lets thoughts and things she’s let curl up in her and rot out.

“You left! Left! Did it on purpose. Shattered everything. D-D-Didn’t even try to do anything to f-fix it. Fix all of it. Know you! KNOW YOU and you FORGOT. Forgot EVERYTHING. And. And. And me and did it cause you COULD! Did it cause you’re scared-Scared-soscared- all the fractured things. All are bits and pieces and broke and- why did you do that! How. C-Could. you?!?! Not our fault and you left and didn’t mean to-

I didn’t-

I’m-

You-“

Her words don’t make sense and she can’t even understand what she’s saying. She can’t understand. Her words slip into the ones only she knows, talking like home and he should understand because he does.

“FORGOT-ALL OF IT. BrokeitbrokeitBROKEN! SHATTERED INTO BITS. DOLLS ALL LINED UP IN A ROW CUTTING STRINGS CAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO MOVE THEM.”

She knows. She showed him herself how they link and the pattern and she knows he knows because he has a better memory then even her and hers is only hurting her again and again showing things that are so long gone from before he killed the part of him she knew so well, she knew him. (It’s okay to cry sometimes and she thinks about how it’s not a weak thing to cry. Whoever told him that was stupid, so stupid. It’s not something she likes to do, but there are times for it, good times for it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. She clings on tighter glad for him to be alive.) and he’s hidden everything that’s him and hiding behind things that he used to hate and her mouth is moving without sound as she tries to find the words to tell him how badly things are broken.

Her words are useless, she clamps her hands over her mouth, closing them in so she can’t lose them and leave them to fall out of her like letting go dragonflies and he isn’t speaking, he’s watching her again, there’s something off and old in the way he’s looking at her.

When he starts to speak again the words are a little less harsh, sound off, wrong, like he can’t get them out again and she remembers and recognizes and it hurts hurts HURTS and she wants him to shut up now cause at least before it wasn’t him it wasn’t and it wasn’t real.

“S-ST-STOP YOU’RE ST-T-TUTTERING AND SKIPPING. YOU’RE A BAD RECORD! STOP IT STOP IT! IF YOU’RE GOING TO PRETEND THEN DON’T START TO-STOP T-T-TALKING LIKE YOU. STOP IT. NO, NOT, STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”

Hands cover her ears instead, fighting to keep these words out cause they hurt in such a different way that she can’t focus. It’s blinding, blinding, painful, harsh, and it’s breaking her into bits and pieces.

Memory is painful. Now is worse cause it’s like looking at a memory that got thrown and colored wrong and cut around the edges to make a shape that doesn’t fit. She’s covering her ears and nails claw into the back of her neck, cutting crescents in her skin, painful as the words.

He’s stopped and is just watching again. She pulls her face up so she can see him, see how he’s fractured in his own way. It’s wrong and awful and he’s even more broken then she is cause at least she still knows she’s her and hasn’t killed herself again and again till there is nothing left.

Hands slide down her neck, getting caught in her hair until they tangle and stay. She’s watching him now, and it’s obvious he doesn’t like it. She can tell. It doesn’t take knowing him to tell.

And she does. Even now she does. He can’t hide in himself enough to keep her from finding him. Edgey is an awful liar even when he’s hidden himself so deep he’s practically good as dead and buried and alone. Always was terrible at lying. Too sure of the truth all the time to be any good at it.

She’s standing again, her feet aren’t able to keep up with themselves drawing with her toes as she walks. He’s backing up, he knows her too, even as much as he denies it, he knows her too and knows when she’s up to things. He knows.

She’s in his space like she always was. He has a shield around him, a bubble of words and thoughts, they are meant to keep people out, a fence. It’s so very real and she tears through it to reach up, her fingers like spiders, curling and uncurling, twisting in the space between them. She’s very sure that she can find him…if she looked hard enough. (But she also knows that people can’t follow paths they don’t want to. And her path and his are the same but wind in different directions.) Broken mirrors of each other.

She raises up on her toes and her fingertips brush skin…. And it surprises her when hand doesn’t freeze with as still as he’s being. Her words are her own, the characters, not the letters, and they echo because she isn’t the only one in the world who understands them.

“If it doen’t want to be found….it has to find a better hiding place.”

She hasn’t found him, and she knows it. He’s more shattered then she is and it would take long searching for pieces hiding in places that are tattered and weathered. And she can’t follow her path onto his. There are places even she can’t go. But they are there. Which means they exist.

So even if she can’t-

She feels the hands on her arms, pulling her away and down and she can see him slide back to where he’d been hiding. But it’s just that. And now they both know it.

She starts to laugh, giggling over the top of the talk of what to do, what to do, what do you do with the shattered girl………and even as he condemns her to Ghost or whoever takes her name from the list, she laughs.

The heels of her boots are dragged along the floor as they pull her by the arms, she grins over her shoulder, smile wide and cracking and calls out behind her,

“Got to find a hiding place without mirrors!”

And as she’s pulled away….She’s the only one who can see the cracks.

Edel AU.

2009-03-25T08:35:31Z

Jesus Christ. The plot bunnies are eating me.

Characters: Yuffie, Matt, Nami, Jack, Mentioned: Rin and implied others

It’s an important day.

She remembers that. Even through all the fog in her head, she remembers that much. She can’t for the LIFE of her remember why….and it’s stuck stuck stuck and painful in her mind like a splinter. Can’t remember the important things can’t remember can’t remember……

She eats, Nami makes sure she does, quiet and sweet and reminding her of being five in father’s chambers while her mother told her stories….It’s so far away the image burns in her head for a moment and then is gone like a flash. Like a bright light behind her eyes burning everything away.

It’s a little after Nami’s left and her hair is neat and tidy in a wet rope down her back, long and braided and clean that she remembers all too well what she was supposed to remember. She has a very good memory. She does. It’s just all locked up in the back of her head with a fog to protect it so thick she gets stuck.

She can hear words and memories just right out her reach by just a short little stretch that she could find them if she really really tried, she’s sure, so sure. But she knows the key now, it’s long hair in braids and her eyes are closed tight trying to imagine why when-

She’d pounding on the door a second later, it’s soon till they open the door, they’ll let her out, let her walk, they will. They will. She can’t piece together words well enough to tell or talk what she can see, what she’s seen. And she knows if she tries Ghost will catch her words and tangle them before they can reach who she means for them to. (Or Jacky will tell her to calm calm calm and she can’t can’t can’t. Not right now no no no.)

She wants out. Wants out out out out.

She sits down hard, knees hitting the floor with a crack she hears (but wont feel until there’s color to show she should) before she just lets herself curl, fingers twisting in her hair, tugging the strands hard enough to get them out of that shape. It’s not hers. Not hers. Not today. No.

When the door finally opens she gets a look something like a stab in the chest from Jacky. She’s glad he’s letting her out, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel tiny and like she’s a bug on the floor, curled and laid out on it’s back and any moment she’s going to be less entertaining then she was a moment before. Of course.

Her fingers relax and pull free of the long strands of black that now hang wet in her face and tangle around her fingers, loose and alone. There’s less of an ache and she stares at them. They’re supposed to be part of a whole….just another thing she broke. Broken Broken……and when she looks up the path is clear and Jacky is long gone, down the hall, unlocking doors. He’s been gone a long long time to her. Too broken there to fix. Too many things are too broken to fix.

She walks through the halls, trying to not be caught. Though no one can catch her. (She’s the best there is. Best. She can’t be caught. Never never ever.) Fingers trail notes and patterns along the wall as she walks and she’s making figure eights on the floor with the toes of her boots as goes, pretty patterns no one else can see.

She’s looking for a door, looking (looking looking looking)…..THERE.

She pokes her head in fingers curling around the door frame as she does, peeking in. She doesn’t know how welcome she is today, if it’s the day she thinks it is, she doesn’t want to be adding to broken things and thoughts and….

And nothing’s happening. That’s the thing she sees first. Nothing. No strings connecting, no papers rustling…nothing. Silent. Silent. Too too quiet.

Her feet scuff the floor and she steps light and careful into the dark mess of strings that are not connecting like they should be. It takes her a moment to see him, he’s in the chair like she’d expect, but he’s not very like himself at all so she nearly missed him. Like he wasn’t there at all. It scares her so bad she can feel her vision go white and her body tense like a spring.

(no no`no not leaving me too people can leave without dying leave and look and sound the same or leave their bodies behind like shells to visit home all alone alone please don’t go too)

He’d tell her before going away, he’d tell her. That’s all she has to cling to as she walks over and watches him like some kind of careful little timid thing. He’s hiding quiet in plain sight, and for once just once she wishes he’d talk. She doesn’t like to wish he did anything different then he does. It feels wrong and incorrect.

It’s wrong wrong wrong but he’s hiding. She sits beside the chair and he’s watching her, just a little. Like she distracted him, not like he’s trying to figure out what she’s doing.

She waits.

She’s willing to wait.

Matt’s not a plaything, Matt is Matt, and he’s worth waiting for.

So she does.

It’s been a long time since he talked as much as she did and he smiled. She misses that. Somedays, she wants to scream at the missing girl. She’s as guilty as Miley for going away….but she didn’t mean to because she was the kinder one, sweet. She made word games and talked calmly to her even after the fog rolled in and made things harder to understand and the games harder to play. She didn’t leave on purpose. That’s all Yuffie has she can hold on to to keep from getting mad at her.

She hates it when people leave and take parts of the people she loves. She’s a patchwork of missing pieces herself and knows it. Seeing someone else’s missing pieces make her miss her own cause she doesn’t have any to spare.

She’s curled up by his leg, using his knee as something to lean on, waiting. He’s got to move sometime. He has puzzles and thoughts and strings and he’s got to do something something something.

(He looked at her he did and that means he’s still in there he’s still there not-……..he’s still there still there )

It feels like hours or seconds and she doesn’t know the difference. Time is time and it’s passing passing passed and it’s long gone by the time she’s thought to deal with it.

She’s half asleep and watching the door out of the corner of her eye, no one is going to interrupt her time that isn’t until she’s sure and sure isn’t coming and she jumps when she feels something brushing back her hair and it isn’t her hand cause her hands are curled up tight under her chin and….her laugh is like breaking glass, shattering and tinkling and she curls up tighter for a moment before relaxing.

It doesn’t matter that he’s telling her not to worry, she doesn’t stop, not matter what anyone says. She never doesn’t worry. Someone with that many broken pieces holds on tight to the ones she still has, but she’s willing to stop for the moment.

As long as she can find him again, she’s okay with him missing pieces too.

More....au shit...except not as good 0.o

2009-03-24T07:20:16Z

Fic~

Characters: Yuffie, Matt, implied others.

“If I be good this time can I get off the bed?”

Long hair is tangled around her arms and down her back, like vines, black stark and harsh against the off white of her shirt and whatever the loose fabric is she’s wrapped around her arms like bandages but not. She hasn’t harmed herself in a , not since he got mad at her and said he would never never ever forgive her if she went away.

She doesn’t remember who is saying the words she remembers, she hears snippets and parts and a tone of the voice she isn’t used to and far too afraid….(goddammit Yuffie don’t do that please! STOP THAT!) She doesn’t like it. Doesn’t want to remember who she made feel that, sound that way. She’s sure she didn’t mean to.

She never means to.

Instead of continuing to focus on upsetting thoughts that make the glowing thoughts stop and make her claw at the wraps around her arms (went away they went away too always going and going and gone.) she watches Matt instead, all the words on papers that line all of the walls and strings and things connecting the papers and words and thoughts from one to another and twisting into something he’s tried to explain, but she’s never really understood even with as many times as he’s told her.

(Explanations don’t work, they’ve tried to tell her they’ve tried, can’t explain why people do the things they do, why people go away away away and leave her again and again and again.)

He waves a hand somewhere in her direction, and she thinks the smoke trailing from the cigarette in his hand writes more words in the air. Matt is made of words lately, but…not many of them spoken. His words are all on papers and tacked to the walls or to himself.

People get mad when she speaks to herself. But she doesn’t mind too badly when Matt does it, it may be lonely, but it’s a hum that doesn’t make her head hurt or buzz white and make things hard to see clear.

She thinks he has to see clearer then anyone else right now, because otherwise why would he do what he does with the words and papers and thoughts and strings that make up this room.

Yuffie gets up to watch over his shoulder, he didn’t say no, and not saying no means yes. Or she thinks. Matt tends to remember to say the word ‘no’ if he means it. She gets up behind him, close enough to see that one of the papers has her name on it. It’s one of the ones he let her write on because there is his writing, then her letters that belong to only her beside it, writing her name in words no one else remembers they know. The characters are pretty beside the letters and she wonders why people don’t write in both more often.

He doesn’t seem to notice her, though he’s probably very aware of her in his personal space. Matt’s aware of a lot more then people think he is. It makes it easier to focus when she knows that she isn’t wasting the time to work through the haze on someone who isn’t going to understand what that takes.

She sidesteps so she is beside him instead, and reaches out with her fingertips to brush across letters without characters, but that she does remember teaching to be written in them. She remembers figuring out how to translate a few of these words into characters, names like hers, and other characters and letters side by side-

The next thing she knows Matt is waving his hand in front of her face and trying to pull one of the papers out of her hand where her fingers have clutched it tight like she’s afraid to let go. (Wants to keep them wants to keep the words like she can’t keep the people they mean can’t they’ve gone too far away and leave her every time)He’s talking to her, though she can’t really hear the words right now, they’re stuck in the fog like the past few moments and he’s watching her through orange tinted eyes…those goggles have a crack in them. Just on one side. It made her sad because there’s a tiny part of the world that’s the color things really are when you wear them now. So she doesn’t take them any more.

She can hear her name now, and she lets the paper fall from her fingers the foot to the floor. She didn’t notice she was sitting until she sees how far there was to fall. He picks up the paper and he starts to stand and almost looks confused for a second before putting it away, tacked with the others, before coming back to her. It’s okay, because she can hear again, the buzz in her ears isn’t strong enough to block out words and sounds, she can hear him ask if she’s alright and she pulls her knees to her chest.

“I-I didn’t mean to. I didn’t.”

She starts picking at the strips of cloth on her arm, it’s her fault he’s not connecting thoughts and words and strings anymore, she broke it, broke it and didn’t mean to even when she said she wouldn’t. He’s stopped and is now telling her to get up off the floor and she only listens because maybe he wont lose track of the things he’s been arraigning if she does. She feels like she’s tangled up something important that she’s supposed to figure out how to untangle and fix but she doesn’t know how. He doesn’t look mad, it takes a lot to make him look mad. She doesn’t remember the last time.

(Does does does doesn’t want to remember though cause it made her want to tell him to go back to fixing strings go back to untangling cause Matt isn’t suited to being mad or scared he’s not not not doesn’t like to see him that way doesn’t doesn’t don’t be sad don’t cry people leave but they’re still there they are always people can’t disappear)

He’s watching her more closely now, she’s standing, the floor is far away and she’s lightheaded like she could float to the ceiling. The floor’s been far away for long minutes and he’s asking her if she’s okay again (why do they always ask she’s just fine fine fine FINE FUCKING FINE ALWAYS FINE) she nods and smiles and her boots scuff along the floor as she spins away like a top, like some kind of dancer. She wanted to be a dancer once, not the pretty kind like in the plays the upper plates used to watch but the kinds who used to sit calmly beside the people in her father’s chamber before showing what they really could do. Butterflies, every one of them, and she’d wanted to fly with them. Away like she had wings, fans were wings.

He’s distracted now, and she thinks she might have broken it for a few hours. He’s not returning to the strings. So she asks if he’d like to listen to the fairytales instead, he listens when he isn’t connecting words together.

She thinks it’s more connecting words and worlds, but as long as someone is willing to hear the stories that bubble up in her and make her wish to scream because she can remember what it was like to stand on the thumb of a god and watch the sky filled by blood red rocks that colored the world. The end of the world is glittering green glass and no one else remembers.

Here it goes out in a flicker of nothingness.

But he looks back to the papers, the strings, then back to her. Shaking his head but sitting down instead of going back to the wall. She laughs and even though there are tear tracks down her face from short little moments before, she can still think about winking green and smile.

Even if he’s only going to wrap the green up in strings near her name and others that mean those with silver hair and blood on her clothes (or ruffling short hair and princess she misses when it meant sweetness and not a reason to hide or golden claws and monsters inside or golden spikes and eyes like the sky) he’s still letting them escape her and go to him instead, let him take some of it so it doesn’t fill her up enough to break.

Fairytales are only good if other people listen.

Edel AU

2009-03-22T08:51:54Z

AU stuffs

Character: Yuffie, Mentioned: Jack, Paul, Edgeworth

She hasn’t had a new playmate for a long time.

They stopped letting her have new ones after the last one broke, even though the last one wasn’t her fault. It made her sad, she liked having playmates. After the doors were locked, they were the only ones you could see the faces of, the only ones who were still totally real. She can remember all seventeen (eighteen eighteen there were eighteen nonodoesn’tcount hedoesn’tcount) easily, they are all perfect little picture book copies in her head. Pristine forever. She hadn’t liked all of them, (especially the little one with silver hair Jacky had been so mad at her for getting red all over her nice clothes) but the last two she’d had were very much fun in their own little ways.

Though the one’s hair had looked a lot prettier when their head had still been attached.

She doesn’t like some of the other people here, never never has and never will. And it will get worse if they keep taking her playmates. At least Ghost tells her first. Ghost likes to play with her…but he isn’t nice. Ghost never has been nice. Ghost is rotted rotted rotted and she can smell his soul stink from far far away. …Though he does call her Princess. Princess. And that she does like.

It might just be because of the little things she remembers like stars, twinkling in and out as days go by. She thinks she loves these fleeting moments, but can’t remember them long enough to know. There were days where she used to have pretty things. She knows that much. Pretty shiny things that she didn’t have to keep hidden under the bed and could take out to look at any time she chose.

They used to glow.

Some days she thinks everyone else is just a little sadder for not remembering pretty things like that. So she tries to tell them about the pretty glowing things that used to make her feel like a fairytale (fairytaleswithmonstersthatcoulddistroyplanets meteormeteormeteorJENOVA)…But they get mad.

Nobody likes to listen to fairytales anymore. Especially when they’re true.

She knows they are….even now. Even through the fog that seemed to cloud…everything. She knows. Knows it like she knows words that no one else can understand (LIARLIARLIAR YOU UNDERSTAND YOU UNDERSTAND LIAR LIAR LIAR MILEY IS A LIAR KEEPS SECRETS TOO WELL KEEPS THEM FROM PEOPLE WHO GAVE THEM TO KEEP) and when she screams them….

She thinks she feels a little bit like outside.

MEME

2009-02-25T04:02:01Z

HERE is a list of questions; HERE, a random number generator.

Post 10 numbers; questions will be answered honestly and truthfully. Count yourself lucky. Yuffie will answer all nice and honest.

wutaian_rose @ 2010-08-18T21:15:00

2008-08-19T03:16:20Z

PLAYER
NAME: Shelly
PERSONAL LJ: yuffie_9
EMAIL/MESSENGER(S):Whitewutianrose, Poptartenvy_9@yahoo.com

Spiderswalk Information

2008-04-01T05:53:57Z

FULL NAME: Yuffie Kisaragi

NATIONALITY: Wutanese (For the sake of SW She's Japanese and very proud of it.)

AGE: 19

BIRTHDAY: November 20, (SW: 11/20/16)

PERSONALITY: Yuffie is normally fairly loud and bubbly. She is something of an optimist and has a selfish self absorbed streak that can cause problems. As she has grown up that has definitely become less of an issue however. Yuffie is a highly emotional and reactive character, though she is intelligent and a useful person to have on your side, she is often ruled by emotion quicker then common sense. On the side of intelligence, Yuffie is the head of intelligence for the WRO, she is at least bi-lingual and can fight as well as people twice her age. In short, though the kid may seem like an air head, she is actually very smart.

Yuffie has a bit of a problem with once she has decided someone is an enemy, she has a problem becoming friends later (unless there is something in it for her that she needs).Though not a constant issue, and can work entirely in the reverse, she can be prone to making decisions about people based on who they were aligned with to the point where she decided she would be awful to people she had become allies with after learning they were Turks. Eventually she can work around it, even grow to trust people she at one point disliked or distrusted but it takes active work on either her part or theirs. The reverse is she can somehow manage to still believe in people even after they have completely and totally screwed up. She is insanely loyal, once you have her you have her nearly for good. She also is the type of person to keep an eye on people. She's the person who calls you randomly to see how you're doing and what time she WILL drop by to see you and you had better be there.

When you met her in FFVII she was quite the self serving kid. Immature, prone to fits of temper and quite frankly a brat. Though something of a good-natured brat under all of the anger at her father and at Shinra. This occasionally shows back up, especially if she feels threatened or particularly upset or offended.

She has stolen without much remorse and was flippant about having done so. She didn't flinch at the death of Don Corneo, though his death is rather brutal, or frankly many of the things they have had to do in the Jenova war. She is willing to fight with little reason if she gets freaked out.

Her ego is also a weak point, Yuffie knows she is good. VERY good. But she's not the best, and sometime that causes issues because she will think she can do something she can't. Or if she doesn't get something fast enough she gets FRUSTRATED. She is also impulsive, Yuffie doesn't think ahead on occasion to such extreme that she will charge headlong into fights she can't win or isn't prepared for.

Spiderswalk History: Yuffie was born in Brooklyn, her parents migrated from Japan during the post-Meiji love affair Japan had with America. Unfortunately, soon after, the love affair ended due to various regulations and world happenings, but the Kisaragi family still was in Brooklyn and still were fairly comfortable all things considered.

This was, sadly, only until she was nine. When Yuffie was nine years old, her mother died, having gotten very sick a few months earlier and she simply never got better.

For the next few years, Yuffie was taught by a tutor, thanks to her father, and she continued on as she always had. Though significantly less well mannered and happy then she had been before her mother's death. When she was about fifteen she had a significant falling out with her father. The level of the fight caused Yuffie to run away, and she quickly found herself without money, or shelter, or anything necessary to live. So she took to pickpocketing.

Then, Yuffie's luck got better. Due to her willingness to work and her fearlessness in dealing with people, She worked as a runner, and then before the end of prohibition, began to find her true calling. As a thief. And a damn good one at that.

(May be expanded later with more information)

Affiliation: Osborn

Other information:
-Yuffie has her own place, but is rarely seen there. She tends to be running around other places, in fact, she will deny having a place she knows of to go if she believes it will get a good reaction.

-She occasionally steals things without noticing, meaning that sometimes you'll end up with a sheepish girl handing you back something she took out of your pocket unintentionally. Though she'll only give it back if she's on good terms with the person she took it from.

Relationships:

Reeve: (Canonmate) She tried to steal from him when she was younger, and instead got caught. Since then they are on very good terms and they bump into each other frequently enough.

Constantine: One of the only people who will by things from Yuffie anymore. Also, one of the few she will actively try to make things safer for by covering her tracks. She's known him since she was a kid in the city and he's the closest thing she has to family in the city. She is a frequent and usual visitor to his apartment and the shop.

Blue (Zuko): Fellow thief and Japanese kid. She thinks he's pretty damn nifty, and tries to keep an eye on him. He's one of her best friends, though she is very aware he's difficult as hell to deal with on occasion. But then again. She's difficult too.

Edgeworth: Also someone she considers a friend, though it's very much her pushing herself into his life by force and him simply having to deal with it. Too bad Lawyer man. She wants to help the guy find his sense of humor. REALLY wants to help the guy find his sense of humor.

Jack: Her drinking buddy. He's the first person in a long time she's dragged up to her place, and they're good friends. They confuse Edgeworth by both being close talkers and not courting. XDDD He's her partner in crime for trying to help Edgey find a sense of humor.

Gary: Jack's roommate. She doesn't understand quite why Jack is so adamant against him.

Miss. R (Rin) : Fellow girl on the journals and all in all a nice gal. Yuffie finds her fun to talk to.