Cynthia Marie Laurent was born on March 16th, 1989 in a bleak little hospital in New York City. Her mother, Gwen Laurent, took her home three days later to their two bedroom apartment next to Washington Square Park. It was a damp, drizzly day, but that doesn’t have much to do with Cyn. Gwen’s then fiancée and Cyn’s father left while the girl was still womb bound, struggling with his ambitions and knowing New York was not the place for him. Gwen refused to leave the business she had spent so much time preening (the small salon that was under their apartment), and told him to move it or lose it. Well, it doesn’t need to be said, but lets say it anyway. He lost it. He was not a mean man, just one who had lost his way. He did not abandon the family he never saw - he put money in Cyn’s bank account every single birthday, Christmas, and school achievement.

As she was growing up, no one called her Cyn. She was always Cynthia, and she was one happy fucking kid. Her mother was not the cliché parent of all Hathian residents. Gwen was a loving, pretty, warm and caring woman. A little tired and weary from work and single parenthood, but relatively good natured. Cynthia played soccer, she had Barbies, she had good friends and took the yellow school bus home from public school every weekday. On weekends she want to the park with her best friend MaryElle, and had a perfectly normal childhood. She was happy with the simpler life, it was everything she ever could have hoped for.

From child to teenager, the transition was an easy one. She was in a band, had a boyfriend, gossiped with the girls - still Ms. Typical Teen. Slumming it only slightly, her biggest dread was that she couldn’t afford the clothes at Saks Fifth Avenue and Barney’s. Her mother supported everything she did, and she craved to give Cyn the father figure she never had, even though they were perfectly happy. Her mother had met Jeremy at a town meeting, and was immediately infatuated with the man. Jeremy himself was a deceiver of sorts, joking and funny at first inspection, but underneath his prickly exterior there was something…darker. The monster that stirred there was the same one that introduced Gwen to substance abuse. He gave his 39 year old girlfriend her first line of coke, and the line was never-ending, even when Jeremy had been sent packing. Cyn was only sixteen when she saw her mother fall victim to her addiction, their life slowly unraveling. She started working to support them both when her mom stopped going to work, even resorting to petty crimes. The calm and drama free life she so cherished was slowly fading away, but all that mattered was keeping her mother afloat - the cost wasn’t an issue. Despite all of Cyn’s efforts, she came home from a long night witnessing to see her mother dead from overdose in her armchair, the line of coke unfinished on a mirror on the side table, the white powder still caked around her nostrils.

Cyn didn’t do what most teens would do. She didn’t curl up and die. She went back to work the next day, just a little emptier inside. The funeral was small and private, and after a few weeks of piled up bills, Cyn decided to leave the apartment she grew up in. She packed a few things, a few salvageable memories, the knife her mother always used to cook, and lit her apartment on fire. Arson was her first felony. As far as she was concerned, if she couldn’t live in that place, no one else could either. She took to the streets, found her own personal hidey-hole, and kept working. She resorted to small crimes a lot more, mugging and even a little dealing, although she wouldn’t touch drugs - her mother’s death was still fresh in her, and she had a terrible fear of addiction. That mulled over into her everyday life - she feared commitment of every kind. Cyn isolated herself emotionally, boys were no longer a concern, followed soon by friends. With strangers, she used her good looks and false charm to con people into giving her what she needed. With people she knew and needed, she used guilt, mooching off people to get anything she could want. And when she ran out of people to deceive, she resorted again to minor misdemeanors. It was monotony, and it was hell. Her normal happy, erratic, and spontaneous nature was subdued for the time. And when life became too much for her, she acted unexpectedly again. She didn’t slit her wrists, or hang herself from the rafters - she went to the bank. She traced that money that went into her account every few months and found out from where it came. Los Angeles. Cyn was a fighter - a survivor, and this was the only option she had left before she ran out of fight completely. The streets had stolen her naiveté and trusting nature - she learned to fight, how to work a weapon (she was extremely good with a blade). She was a reluctant criminal; forced into a life of meager existence. She made for warmer climate, hitch hiking her way to California. She had only her belongings and the carver from her old home. She named the knife GW. George Washington -Carver-? Get it? The name was laughable really, but he was the last person she had learned about in school - it reminded her that once upon a time, she was educated and had promise. She was going somewhere. The knife itself was one of the last things her mother every touched before her life was snuffed out like a smoldering flame.

The sun warmed her face as she looked around sunny Los Angeles. Before she could track down her father, she needed to set herself up. She went to the nearest halfway house and met a beautiful, dark haired twenty two year old named Craig. Cyn was eighteen and her took her in. The first four months were ones of normal existence. A romance blossomed between them, Cyn lived with Craig, who hid his double life from her quite easily. After a time, Craig started to become more and more agitated, and cut Cyn off financially unless she started working. Her world did a tilt a whirl when Craig went from boyfriend to pimp in the matter of a day. She had few other friends in Los Angeles, it wasn’t like New York, where she was so well networked. She started stripping and selling herself for money. It wasn’t hard for her to get business, she was much healthier looking than the other girls thanks to her constant eschewing of drugs. Craig came home in drunken rages, beating and forcing sex upon his girlfriend and number one employee. He pressed her hand to the hot stove on her nineteenth birthday, and she lost the feeling in the last three fingers on her right hand. Good thing she’s a lefty, right? Cyn flew off the handle. Sneaking into where he kept his girls’ “personal belongings”, she found her old beloved knife, the meager memories she had from home, stashed away like they were trash. When he was in a drunken sleep, Cyn slit his throat, packed her shit, and started combing the phone books. Murder was her second felony, and now she was skipping the fuck out of town. She wouldn’t be wanted for crime - her record was barely in existence, she was just a nameless face in the sex selling crowd. But now she had her own money (she had emptied Craig’s account, after all), and re-began her journey that brought her to Cali in the first place. A frequent client of hers knew the name of her father (last name: Van Der Woodsen), and pointed her in his direction. She rang the doorbell a week later, totally in awe of his sprawling estate and obvious splendor.

A shorter, only slightly younger, and sarcastic looking figure opened the door in front of her. Their slight resemblance was un-ignorable. She was face to face with her new found half sister Jacqueline Van Der Woodsen. She had an obvious air of being pampered. Her few weeks with her half family and birthfather were slightly surreal - she had never lived this way before. Such grand existence was unnatural to her - it didn’t take much to satisfy Cyn. She bonded with dear old dad, who had always loved the daughter he never knew, but getting to know her half sister was the real prize. Jack was the family Cyn had been looking to embrace for the past three years, her opposite but completing factor in every single way, she wanted nothing but to be around her. Jack was a hypnotizing individual - her life was the peak of excitement. She had done everything from bounty hunting to battle royale. But the eighteen year old had decided it was time to start another chapter in her life. Jack was bored: she had always lived on her whim, and Cyn was eager to please. She used a little of her whore money to buy a rickety red Chevy and her and Jack made haste to leave California.

When the gas had run out, and the money for gas had run out, they pulled their now sputtering vehicle to the side of the road in none other but Devil’s Pocket. The Lousianna heat beating on their backs, they made the long but enlightening walk into Hathian. Setting themselves up relatively easy, Cyn went out right away looking for a job, meeting people slowly but surely. Jack took to a different path, flirting with the idea of starting her own gang. Networking was obviously everything in Hathian, but it became hard to not get sucked into the most powerful addiction the city had to offer: gang life. Relatively pleased to see a few familiar faces in the city haze, Cyn was relaxing when her life changed in a place where many a-lives had changed before hers. The creaky little table outside the Grind was where she had perched her New York bred ass. Somewhere between glares and misunderstanding, Tah was holding out a joint for her to take a hit off of. She hated drugs, but when someone that beautiful offers you weed….well, you don’t say no. Talk about above the influence. She had smoked weed before, it was no big deal, she just cared about not dallying with the hard stuff. He even bought her greasy slop from the Grind…maybe chivalry wasn’t dead? She was quiet, her instincts always told her to inspect people for ulterior motives. He gave her a job as a dealer for him. A few more conversations, a couple of more run ins, and she found herself actually liking the guy. They had sex on the beach…how cliché was that? And the rest…undoubtedly history.

Through Tah, she met Sadie. Sadie was the hardened lieutenant Cyn had always craved being. Her sister and her not-yet-friend had gotten into a bit of a tussle over Sadie’s affection for Tah. Cyn and Sadie were automatically pitted against each other, their dislike for each other so evident that you could cut it with a toothpick. It hung thick in the air and eventually dissipated after the two women realized they both had the big lunk’s best interest at heart. The three of them went back to school together, Cyn’s hope for a career above petty crime now once again very real. Sadie and Cyn grew to love each other over each other’s love for him. Sadie is now one of the more prominent figures in Cyn’s life, she goes where Sadie goes. On Sadie’s word, and with Tah in mind, Cyn has gotten into a fight with both Reaver and Reject. Her reckless nature returned with a vengeance as soon as she got comfortable with her new found city. It, without a doubt, caused trouble for her, but recent events have caused her to suppress it once again.

When Tah came to Cyn and told her he cheated on her, it felt like she was swallowing thumb tacks. She fled to the deep, dark, recesses of her own head. Recently employed at the Twister, she didn’t work. She didn’t emerge from the house - Cyn had never knows a love like this. It was a beautiful, intoxicating thing. She drank it up like water in a drought - it was all she had. The man had held fast under her skin, her fear of commitment and addiction had failed her - she wasn’t addicted to drugs, but to the love of a person. The emo (don’t judge - it’s in all of you! XD) in Cyn finally shone through. She cut her arms and thighs, the pain making her feel oh so real. She even danced with the thought of trying the hardest drugs there were to try. Anything to get her mind off reality. When she emerged from the house, she was reserved, composed, happy, and a total fucking liar. She lived day by day until the two finally got back together. He lied about cheating to push her away from what he felt was unavoidable: that her association with him would be her own end. (Tch, I mean come ON though, really?) She went back to him with open arms, which was totally an expected move on her part. However, she wasn’t unlearned from the whole situation. Tah wasn’t God, he wasn’t perfect, he was totally capable of hurting her. And with that came back her old fear. She relied on no one solely but herself. In that sense, she craved to be like Sadie. Her now best friend was without a doubt, a soldier, unmerciful in her infinite war. Now, when it comes to the serious things, Cyn is all business. She is a fighter for the Sadie and Tah cause - her allegiance is easily bought. If your interests are tied with her boyfriend, sister and/or her best friend, then you will have her fury at your side. She remains gang unaffiliated for the sole reason that people are more dangerous, less trustworthy, and all around sneakier in groups. Her trust lies within individuals rather than crowds, because in a group of ten there is bound to be one or two whose loyalty has strayed. Cyn loves few, trusts fewer, and is not willing to take that risk of putting the lives of those she loves or her own into the hands of others.