(( http://bryansyme.deviantart.com/art/Pin-up-bat-wing-girl-291110033 and larger wings )) Lafayette Debonnuit resembled an eighteen year old human girl, but every part of that description except "female" was a front. A mere six years ago she'd been a baby curled up and dormant except to feed, and since then had grown through development stages at roughly three-to-one pace like dog years were supposedly seven-to-one. A baby bat in fact, indistinguishable from wild cousins except for two arms for a total of six limbs. Her size and proportions had gradually grown more human, and the final spurt had traded fur for skin, a muzzle for a clear and pretty face, and passable appearance except for the wings, pointed ears and teeth that marked her kind at this age. Whatever kind that IS, anyway. Mysteriously delivered along with a male to the care of an oddball human who relished night creatures like her, she'd grown up with no knowledge of what her race was like, what they stood for, or even what would happen with her own body in the future. Keep aging in a triple speed lifespan and die of old age around the corner? Mature to peak and thrive in her prime eternally? The human "mother" had no leads to gain after her source had disappeared. Eventually, Lafayette had struck out on her own in a quest not only to find her kin but to fulfill her independence after hiding in the refuge of the estate all the eldritch stages of her life. Thankfully she wasn't wandering aimlessly trying to find an undiscovered race with no clue; her family's magic-dabbling friends had been able to help that much at least. At 5'5" she stood average for a white American female, though lean like a tennis star or swimming pro as few overindulging Americans could achieve. Her hair hung moody sunrise orange to her forehead and shoulders, longer if she took down her perky twin ponytails. Emerald eyes glinted with both caution and the spirit of adventure. Her black leather-and-rivets dress managed to scream scandal even though the most risque skin she showed was her collarbone, since stockings and sleeves striped in candy red and licorice black took care of the rest. Black army surplus boots protected in more ways than one - walking soles, chilly weather and self defense. Her most grabbing feature, though, were the bat wings of turbulent sunset purple that when folded spanned from the nape of her neck to her tailbone. Visible bra straps affixed to where the wing seams joined her back, some reinforced craft rods, and duct tape on the webbing itself helped lend the impression that Lafayette was another teen with enough time on her hand to devise ways to stand out from society and the cookie cutter Elvira goths. Currently she lied face down on a cot in a quite accommodating Catholic charity shelter in New York City, waterproofed leather backpack underneath like a pillow more to preserve her worldly goods from opportunists than for comfort. Compared to taking refuge during the day on rooftops with no apparent stair access and covering herself against the sun, this was the best idea yet. Lafayette didn't mind the looks from the staff when she'd asked to use the nighttime cots during daylight, whether they thought her more mentally ill than the muttering shellshocked veterans for looking as she did or a freeloader for looking clean and nice rather than worn down as most homeless weathered over time. So far she'd learned more methods of safety, now that she could pass as human - hide as she had before, disguise herself as one of them, and now also choose a sleeping place so public that no one would harm her without every other bystander gawking as witness.