Ada is twenty-six years old, six-foot-four, wiry, tan. Her hair is dark and she crops it close to her skull. She has strong, arched brows, an aquiline nose, hollow cheeks and a smattering of freckles, and she’s perpetually heavy-eyed but smiles often. More rings in her ears than skin at this point.
 
She’s from Naedara. Her mother runs a brothel and her father is probably one of the labourers that work on the feats of engineering for which the city is famed. She has no idea which, but this lack of knowledge doesn’t much bother her, because she gets on well with most of them and they all pitched in where they could to help her mother raise her. That’s something of a commonality for Naedara - people take care of each other, albeit in unconventional fashions. Which would be why, of course, Ada is now rather infamous. A group of highly influencial diplomats passed through the city, and as happens, stopped by the brothel her mother owns. One of them mistreated a worker, and this worker, being a friend of Ada’s, told her what had happened. Ada, being Ada, went over the rails and stormed into their rooms at night, beating them past recognition. One diplomat died as a result of his injuries. Consequently, there is something of a price on Ada’s head, but at least within the burrow she was raised in, she is still well-regarded.