The foster kid
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"I know that you're wrong for me
Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave"
LYDIA
Greek | “woman from Lydia”
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ANDREA
English | "strong and manly"
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WARREN
English | "game preserve keeper"
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- THE BASICS -
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◖Birthname◗
She was born under the name Lydia Andrea Warren
◖Nicknames◗
She goes under the names of Lyd, Lyds or Ydia
◖Age◗
She is 25 years old, born on the 11th of July which makes her a Cancer
◖Birthplace◗
She was born in Sydney, Australia but she has lived her whole life in America
◖Nationality◗
Australian American
◖Residence◗
She currently lives in Manhattan, New York City, New Jersey
◖Occupation◗
She is a lawyer, yet she still hasn't passed her bar yet
◖Build◗
She has a slim figure which frames her body pretty well
◖Height◗
By the imperial units standards she is 5 ft 7 in but by the metric system she is 170 cm
◖Eyes◗
She has some beautiful doll like dark brown eyes
◖Hair◗
Her hair is naturally dark brown, which is cuts and styles differently at times
◖Complexion◗
xx
◖Face◗
People really reconize her for her stunning dark brown eyes
◖Clothes◗
She wears quite expensive dresses and high class garments, to impress her clients
◖Zodiac◗
She was born under the astrology sign of the Cancer
◖Sexuality◗
Heterosexual
◖Relationship Status◗
She is single as a pringle
◖Faceclaim◗
She shares the same face as Maia Mitchell
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- CORE TRAITS -
☽ Word ▪ Text ☽ Word ▪ Text
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
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- CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE -
Lydia Warren had no memory of being wanted.
Her life began not with warmth, but with absence—papers signed, names exchanged, a quiet departure no one ever explained to her. By the time she was old enough to ask where she came from, the answers had already dissolved into something distant and unreachable. The United States became the backdrop of her childhood, but never quite a home.
She grew up in fragments.
Different houses. Different rules. Different people who never stayed long enough to matter—at least, that’s what she told herself. It was easier that way. Easier to believe that attachment was optional, that love was something other people needed. Lydia learned to carry herself like someone passing through, never settling, never rooting. Because roots could be torn out. She knew that much.
Trust came harder.
By the time she reached her teenage years, the world had already taken more from her than she was willing to admit. There were moments—unspoken, buried deep—where something in her shifted permanently. Things she never told anyone about. Things that made silence feel safer than truth. The system that was supposed to protect her became something she endured instead, and survival turned into a quiet, relentless habit.
She stopped expecting kindness.
In school, she existed on the edges of everything. Not invisible, but not quite seen either. Teachers knew her name because it appeared on reports. Students knew her face, though rarely her voice. She spent her lunch breaks tucked away in places no one bothered to look—the art room, where color gave her something to focus on, or the music room, where noise could drown out her thoughts.
She wasn’t soft.
If anything, Lydia became sharp where the world had tried to break her. Defensive. Quick-tempered when pushed. There were fights—some physical, most not—and consequences that followed her like a shadow. She made choices she knew weren’t good for her, drifting toward people who asked fewer questions, who expected less. It wasn’t happiness. But it was something close enough to distraction.
And for a long time, that was enough.
Until it wasn’t.
Change didn’t come all at once. It never does. It came quietly, in moments so small they almost went unnoticed. A realization here. A decision there. A slow, reluctant understanding that if she kept walking the same path, she would end up exactly where she started—lost, angry, and alone.
So she chose differently.
It was the hardest thing she had ever done.
"I'll put you down slow, love you goodbye
Before you let go, just one more time"
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- ASTROLOGY SIGN -
CANCER
Latin | "crab"
Cancer: Just like the moon, you shine in times of darkness."
Cancer is a cardinal water sign. Represented by the crab, this oceanic crustacean seamlessly weaves between the sea and shore, representing Cancer’s ability to exist in both emotional and material realms. Cancers are highly intuitive and their psychic abilities manifest in tangible spaces: For instance, Cancers can effortlessly pick up the energies in a room. These crabs are highly sensitive to their environments, as well as extremely self-protective. Much like their celestial spirit animal, Cancers are shielded by hard, external shells. At first, these crabs may be perceived as cold or distant. With time, though, Cancers reveal their gentle nature, genuine compassion, and mystical capabilities. Just don't be surprised if it takes a while to get to know them.
Cancer is ruled by the moon, the celestial body that represents comfort, self-care, and maternal energies. Accordingly, Cancers tend to be domestically oriented. They love to create cozy, safe spaces that serve as their personal sanctuaries, then spend lots of time in them. Cancers care deeply about their families and are quick to adopt caregiver roles. But these crabs must be careful: When Cancers invest in someone emotionally, they risk blurring the line between attentive nurturing and controlling behavior.
Cancers attract friends and lovers through their loyalty, commitment, and emotional depth. These crustaceans make excellent hosts and enjoy entertaining with comfort food and free-flowing libations. (Cancer rules the stomach, so there’s nothing these crabs love more than a home-cooked meal.) If you're not a fan of Cancer’s attachment to the home, that may be a bit of a problem. Though these celestial crabs avoid direct conflict by walking at an angle, they can inflict a harsh pinch with their distinctive brand of passive-aggressiveness. It may be difficult to convince a Cancer to talk openly about what's bothering them, but if you can do it without making them feel threatened, you'll build long-lasting trust.
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- LET ME DOWN SLOWLY -
Lydia let go of the one thing that had dulled the edges of her world, even when it left her raw and exposed. She pushed herself into something unfamiliar, something demanding. Law wasn’t just a career choice—it was a statement. A refusal to remain powerless. A promise, though she never said it aloud, that no one else should have to feel as voiceless as she once had.
She built herself from the ground up. Not perfectly. Not easily. But deliberately. By twenty-five, Lydia Warren was no longer the girl she used to be.
There were still traces of her past in the way she hesitated before trusting someone, in the way her walls never fully came down. Healing wasn’t a straight line, and she had long since stopped expecting it to be. But there was something different about her now—something steadier.
She smiled more. Not the guarded, fleeting expressions she once wore, but something real. Something that reached her eyes, even if it surprised her when it happened. She carried herself with a quiet confidence, dressing in ways that reflected the person she was becoming rather than the one she had been. There was intention in her choices now. Direction.
For the first time, she could see a future. It wasn’t perfect. She hadn’t passed the bar yet, and there were still long nights filled with work, doubt, and exhaustion. But it was hers. Every step of it. And that alone meant something. More than she ever thought it would.
Somewhere along the way, she found people—real people—who stayed. Friends who didn’t disappear, who didn’t expect her to be anything other than what she was. They weren’t a traditional family, but they were close enough that the difference stopped mattering. And slowly, almost cautiously, Lydia began to believe in things she had spent years avoiding. Like trust. Like belonging. Like love.
She wasn’t entirely there yet. Some part of her still braced for loss, still expected things to fall apart the moment they started to feel real. But she no longer ran from the idea of it. Instead, she stood at the edge of something new, allowing herself to experience it piece by piece. Carefully. Curiously. Honestly.
Lydia Warren had spent most of her life surviving. Now, for the first time, she was learning how to live. And that, more than anything, was the beginning of her story.