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[h1][color=mediumvioletred]Anastasia Vivian LeBrouche[/color][/h1]
[img]https://katewjwhite.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/books-girl-nature-photography-read-favim-com-140687.jpg[/img]

[h3]Age[/h3]
Ten and Eight years of age 
[color=mediumvioletred][sub]Plus seven months, three days, nine hours, seven minutes and approximately thirty-two seconds[/sub][/color]

[h3]Size[/h3]
Five foot, three inches 
[sub][color=mediumvioletred], one centimeter and three militeters.[/color][/sub]
One hundred and twenty Pounds 
[sub][color=mediumvioletred]Actually, it’s one hundred and nineteen point seven-eight, pounds.[/color][/sub]

[h3]Physical Shape[/h3]
Before the beginning of the end, Anastasia was small and thin, with little real muscle to speak of and for the most part she has retained the same mass with little fluxuation. She has little body fat after the span of time and has gained just enough muscle in her arms and legs for the constant activity that she finds herself in every day. She has a flat stomach and slight curves that are still in the process of developing; long limbs and a medium length torso, long fingers. She has a slight limp as well, from breaking her leg and it not healing quite right. 
[sub][color=mediumvioletred]I can run and jump just like everyone else, just don’t ask me to do it a whole bunch or I’ll end up dead like them. Then where would you be without the living Encyclopedia?[/color][/sub]

[h3]Personality[/h3]
It’s clear to say that Anastasia is a bit of a smart-alec and a huge know-it-all. She’s spent every waking moment of her life gathering an extensive collection of knowledge inside of her head and she’s very proud of it, even if she doesn’t know exactly what to do with that knowledge half of the time. She’s a thinker, and will often rather spend her time puzzling over a problem than jumping into the action like many others do; instead she finds the best way to go about it first – before getting someone else to do it. Anna likes to play yhr back row and remain unnoticed by others until it’s a time when she can shine and put forth what she knows and put it to good use – she has demonstrated this before. Regardless of her love of learning she is never satisfied with what she knows and constantly goes on the search for something new to set her sights on, sometimes leading herself into dangerous areas and rumours, she is also shy and tends to refrain from greatly impacting her own emotions with the bonds of humanity. Unfortunately, she gets attached to those she likes and never wants to let them go either. She is capable of great compassion and loyalty, if one does earn her trust, and often spends her time in groups tending to the injured or avoiding confrontation all together. 

[h3]Occupation[/h3]
Librarian’s Assistant and Medical Student

[h3]Equipment[/h3]
Mostly, Anastasia finds herself dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, suited for easy movement though not restricting or getting in the way; a short sleeve shirt from the assortment of shirts she’s found or taken, primarily she likes to wear a plain grey shirt that is a little loose on her; her choice of footwear is a pair of worn sneakers she’s has since before the disaster, she hopes she’ll be able to find a pair of fitting boots before winter; a warn black zip up sweater, grey fuzz on the inside. 

[h3]Inventory[/h3]
In a traditional, three main pocket school backpack she keeps a utility knife, notebook for observations, three pens – one black, one blue, one purple – and a hair brush. Most items she keep on her rotate with the need as she rarely leaves the library and often keeps her things in the space she sleeps inside of. In the smallest of the pockets she keeps a picture of her mother, held inside of a black leather, men’s wallet she puts money she finds inside of. A box of matches sits in a plastic bag inside of the biggest pocket, closest to her back, just on top of the fabric grocery bag. As far as food goes she always keeps a bottle of water on her at all times, and at least two granola bars from what she has kept inside. 
[sub][color=mediumvioletred]Really though, I don’t go anywhere. People come to me when they need something and they bring me stuff.[/color][/sub]

[h3]Weapons[/h3]
Anastasia isn’t one for combat and prefers to stay out of the fray in such a way that she’s taken to using a [url=http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTIxOFgxNjAw/z/rp0AAOxyYTRSWPuP/$(KGrHqV,!qMFJEKG2Cr5BSWPuPByQg~~60_35.JPG] slingshot[/url] and math to take down the enemies that she absolutely has to be rid of.  She keeps usually about five or six steel ball barrings in a small pouch in her sweater pocket though prefers to use rocks and bits of rubble that work well enough and still fly the same. As well she has a staff – more just a study piece of wood – that she uses to keep them away from her when she really needs to. 
[sub][color=mediumvioletred]Neither requires me to have an overabundance of muscle, nor to get so close as they can touch me too; perfect for someone trying not to die but doesn’t have the strength to run.[/color][/sub]

[h3]Background[/h3]
[i]Awaiting collaboration[/i]
Anastasia was born to a high class family as the second daughter and the youngest of five children, with her three older brothers constantly causing trouble and her sister nearly fifteen years her senior. They lived in Venice, Italy for a long while, her parents having moved here for her father’s job as an artist and her mothers’ love of photography, in a modestly sized home with two floors and a small yard where the girls kept a garden. Anna was a strange child, she never cried and she didn’t speak, at least not until her sister had moved away to marry a posh boy in London whom had come calling after his homestay and educational exchange on the island; she never grew to know her sister well and most of her brothers were gone in similar ways before the three moved to America, the next stop on an endless train of moves. 

They settled in a small town in South Dakota, living there until Anastasia reached the age of seven, a year and a half since they moved there and on to New York then Vegas and finally they stopped in Atlanta. Because of how often they had moved around, the girl found her friends in works of fiction and the text books at school where she would spend hours reading. Her parents learned she had an eidetic memory when she was nine and had recalled something she’d seen when she was only three years old – a pony on their property, described in picture perfect details. This was the purpose for their move to Atlanta where she attended none but the best schools and found herself in random university lectures simply because she left like it. 

Where most kids would have complained about being forced into greatness, she embraced her own mind and began to learn everything she possibly could, from old text books to newspapers dating back all the way to the sixties, lyrics to songs her mother had listened to and dictionaries. She quickly became fluent in any language she tried to learn and was well on her way to becoming a linguist and translator when the accident happened. She was sixteen, beginning to grow into her mothers’ beauty when they picked her up from school one day and were hit head on by a large truck speeding down the street on the wrong side of the road. Her parents died instantly, but Anastasia, in the back seat of the car, miraculously survived the accident. It had crushed her leg and her heart so wake up six months later without a single familiar face around her. They’d called all of her siblings and none had come and it was even worse to learn that her parents had perished from a complete stranger. They had left her with enough money to live off of until she died, but what she needed was love and someone to talk to; she didn’t speak again for two years after the accident. After another few months her brother showed up at the hospital, alone and with only two bags of luggage, ready to take her home he said though she never understood why it was he who had come. James had spent little to no time with her at all, having been absorbed in studies of his own while he reached to become a great scientist to find a cure for anything he could – he was working on the biological weapons team without knowing, they were feeding off his research into various diseases. 

Even though she didn’t talk for that long while, she wrote and they would learn together, helping her find her love of knowledge again until her leg was mostly better, a new metal knee cap helping her walk and a couple screws in her leg, though regardless she still walked with a limp and a terrible scar running all the way down either side of her leg led her to never wear the dresses her and her mother had bought again. 

During a time when the infected were rising up, taking over and the military had yet to arrive, she was at the library picking out books for her next study project when the police officers had started to bring people inside, away from a group of approaching infected where they could hopefully protect them from the danger. It was a bloody fight and Anastasia saw enough of it that she spoke again, even if it was just a wordless scream and almost silent prayer for her mother and James. With the ensuing chaos almost none of the infect saw her make a dash for the stairs, crimpled and weak the thing grabbed onto her bad leg and sent a jolt of hot pain up her leg, causing her to fall onto the stairs and nearly drop the book she’d been holding. She kicked widely until the grip on her ankle loosened and scrambled up the stairs as best as she could, finding her way through the door and toward a bookshelf to hide behind. She managed to get that far before she doubled over for breath, fighting an asthma attack while it rounded the corner, looking for her. She swung without thinking, the large hardcover volume connecting with its head and causing its death. 

By the time everything was done and she couldn’t hear anymore sounds, Anastasia had locked herself in one of the upper floor closets and silently cried herself out of panic. The salt of her tears, the metallic taste of her blood on her tongue, the sound of the dying she could still here; it was such a profound moment of realization that she was allowing so many to die without doing a thing about it that she would never forget hiding in that closet waiting for her brother to come save her again. When the door opened and the silhouette of a man stood outside she spoke, really, for the first time in two years. 

[color=mediumvioletred]"James?"[/color]

She had hoped, beyond hope, that her brother had somehow come to find her; he was the only person she'd ever really spoken to, even before she had left Venice with their parents when he had been living and studying abroad with their eldest brother, Isaac.  It was disappointing to her to see that it wasn't her brother, instead it was the history professor she'd seen earlier that day. He'd survived, somehow, just like her. Over the course of the next two months he had helped her come out of that shell again and speak, while they had gotten closer and fortified their little space and tried to survive. 

Anastasia knew though, that this little room would not last forever. 

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