[hider=Evelyn "Evee" Fairbanks]
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[color=7bcdc8][b]Name:[/b][/color] Evelyn “Evee” Fairbanks
[color=7bcdc8][b]Alias:[/b][/color] Travis Fairbanks
[color=7bcdc8][b]Age:[/b][/color] 25
[color=7bcdc8][b]Hair:[/b][/color] Brunette
[color=7bcdc8][b]Eyes:[/b][/color] Brown
[color=7bcdc8][b]Height:[/b][/color] 5’6”
[color=7bcdc8][b]Weight:[/b][/color] 125 ibs

[color=7bcdc8][b]Bio:[/b][/color] Evee was born to Emily and Forest Fairbanks, a pair of ranchers in South Dakota. Growing up the young family never had a lot, but there was food on the table and the little girl always felt safe and loved. Still, something was missing.

Then when she was five years old her little sister Eden was born and everything was perfect.

Wherever little Evee went, Eden was never far behind. They were thick as thieves, running a muck on their small farm and chasing chickens, catching frogs, or splashing about in the creek bed. In fact, the only time they were ever really separated was when their father would take Evee out into the pasture for target practice. Her little sister never had the stomach for such things and much preferred to stay home and help their mother with the chores.

Evee was far from a natural shot. It frustrated her to no end how no matter how steady her breathing or how carefully she peered down the barrel of the pistol, her aim was always comically off. The young girl worked at it day in and day out, but she never seemed to get any better. Then one day her dad brought out his old .22 bolt action rifle. “Let’s give this one a try, hm?” he hummed, carefully pressing the worn firearm into her grip. Evee planted her feet, took aim at the coffee can, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.

[i]Bam![/i]

Perfect.

“That’s my girl,”  Forest told her, dropping a kiss into her hair, “I knew you’d get it. You just needed something with a longer barrel. Helps make it feel more like an extension of your arm, or some shit like that. Now come on, little lady, supper’s waitin’.”

When she turned fourteen the Desdemona Virus outbreak begins. It’s not long before both her sister and mother catch it, confined to their beds as their lungs slowly begin to deteriorate, their labored, shuddering breaths growing weaker with each passing day. There wasn’t anything the doctors could do for them, the epidemic was sweeping the entire world and no one had a clue how to combat it.

They both died on a Tuesday. Evee helped lay them to rest under the old birch tree down by the riverbank.

They both held their breath, waiting for the day Evee would catch the virus, but she remained untouched. Her father began to hear rumors about wars and suddenly all the town folk were far too interested in his little girl, looking at her like she was a cut of meat instead of an actual person. Forest decides it would be for the best for them to leave their home and find a place where no one knows about his daughter. That night, after he’s packed up the truck, he shaves her head and helps her bind herself for the first time. “That’s my boy,” he told her, giving her a sad, crooked grin before patting her shoulder and getting back to work.

They leave town in the dead of night and head for Wyoming. They end up in Lander, where her father finds work as a gunsmith and she takes a job at the local cafe, only now everyone calls her Travis instead of Evee. It’s a little tedious, but she finally feels safe and loved again. They continue on like this until one day, when she is twenty three, Forest’s lungs start to give out on him too. The Desdemona Virus took much longer to infect males, but it seemed like her father’s time had finally come. As he lay gasping out his last breaths, he clutched her hand tight and murmured her real name for the first time in years before his eyes fell shut for the last time.

There isn’t a birch tree around this time to lay him under, but Evee finds a dogwood that she thinks he would have liked. 

She keeps working at the cafe and takes the occasional gun smithing job on the side. Evee lets her hair grow out a little longer, since no one has seen a woman except for in the newspaper in a very long time. In fact, some of the men have even begun taking estrogen and dressing themselves in silken blouses, trying to fill the role her gender left behind, so no one bats an eye at her delicate features or long eyelashes. She just keeps her hat pulled down low and a heavy scarf around her neck and keeps on working, waiting for the day when she can feel safe again.[/hider]