Name: Natasha 'Bookworm' Cline
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Appearance: She stood at 5'6" and couldn't have weighed more than 130 pounds. The woman had a lithe frame with a slightly athletic build. Her eyes were a sharp blue, giving a piercing glare of scrutinization to both the surrounding area and those around her. He dress was fairly simple as she wore thick work boots, plain jeans, and a black hoodie. Her backpack always behind her, straps slung over the shoulders.
History: Natasha once had a simple life; albeit a cozy one. She lived outside of San Diego with her fiance and baby daughter. The young woman worked as a writer, mostly doing freelance magazine work, with the exception of the novel that she wrote a few years back. It had even received some traction when it was first published to the public, though like many authors, she faded into obscurity once the interest died down.
The whole world changed out of seemingly nowhere. San Diego was hit pretty hard by infernal entities, turning the city into a slaughterhouse. Natasha only escaped out of pure luck and never got to see her family again. She watched the world descend into chaos and began to roam aimlessly, only living because she didn't know what else to do.
She came across a group of survivors whom had made it from the east coast. They invited her into their group and gave some explanation of what they had seen out there, helping her get a better picture. She got her nickname 'Bookworm' from someone in this group who had recognized who she was. Seeing as how she had nothing left and survival was her only instinct, Natasha was a new person, and took on the title fairly quickly.
Some forty days since the cataclysm and the group had become surrounded by a bastion of undead. To escape, she left the small band to fend for themselves and to act as a distraction. She even took their only gun, a simple revolver, and dashed off into the distance. She could hear their screams from what seemed to be a mile away.
Now, wandering aimlessly again, Natasha will live for as long as she can, until one of these otherwordly forces kills her.
Personality: The young woman has already started to become hardened by the month of survival. On the whole, she isn't an actively terrible person and is eager to lend a hand to those who have her back. However, if it ever came down to it and her life was on the line, she becomes far less dependable, working in her own self interest.
Despite the circumstances, she is very skeptical toward the idea of saving the world. Simply put, she just figures that being in a group serves her best interest and gives her a higher chance of surviving longer.
Skills and Weaknesses: The young woman is generally able to adapt to a situation and is a very quick learner. Having said this, she is neither well trained nor completely useless. With time, she will probably pick up many survival skills as well as improving martial prowess.
Belongings: Her pack carries a sleeping bag, a couple of containers for water, rope, a bolt cutting tool, and a single flare, along with her notebook. She keeps a lighter, a pair of dice, and a pen in her pockets. A revolver with three bullets is holstered at her side.
Color Code: Color=00aeefOther stuff: Some people may recognize Natasha for her novel. If she is in a leading position, Natasha might make good strategic decisions, though they may be at the cost of others.
Sample Post: Bookworm scribbled an array of letters on a page in her notebook, occasionally glancing up here and there for any sign of change along the perimeter of their camp. Although it seemed like a safe enough spot for everyone to sleep, she knew that she wasn't the only person doing this. Hell, she'd be surprised if anyone actually managed to get any sleep.
Still, as they all sat around the campfire, most everyone was trying to keep their spirits up. It had been a month now and everyone was really starting to get to know one another. They had started acting as a family unit of sorts. Even though she was a little more brooding compared to the rest of the group, they accepted Bookworm with warmth.
An older gentleman, Tom, went on about how he had barely escaped something that he only referred to as a 'minotaur'. He had been both scared to death and vastly interested, recalling the legends of such a being from the ancient greeks. He even dared to say that someone opened up a pandora's box and brought all these entities into our world. Bookworm thought it was stupid to even consider any theories.
Her trick was to ignore the mysteries. If she thought too hard about all of this, how and why it happened, or anything else not related to simply being alive, she'd go crazy. It was a waste of time anyway, despite whatever rumors may be out there.
Suddenly, the others' attention turned to Bookworm. It was Clarise that brought up the question. Fucking Clarise, only made it this far because she was banging both of the heavy lifters in the group. Bookworm despised her, especially now.
"You wanna hear about where I was in the first week, huh?", Bookworm said in a condescending tone. Clarise nodded, unable to wipe that shit eating grin off her face. Bookworm scowled, though she closed her notebook and returned the pen to her pocket. She folded her hands in her lap and cleared her throat.
"I was at a coffee shop, working on an article, livid that the stupid cunt of a barista was taking so long to refill me cup. Funny... how big of a deal that was to me. Well, she's busy looking out the window and next thing I know, she's screaming bloody mary. I looked out and it took all of my composure not to scream too. It was a fucking massacre", Bookworm explained.
"Demons of all shapes and sizes killing, raping, and eating people in the street. Fire... everywhere. I fucking lost it. Something in my head snapped and I just got up and left into the middle of it. Like, it had to be a dream, y'know? So I just walked and... some how I made it. I kept walking for the whole day, my cellphone going off as my fiance kept trying to call me". She paused for a moment after that.
"I was at the train station by the time I came to. I saw all the messages with him trying to find me, the baby crying in the background... and...", the emotion was starting to show as Bookworm started stretching her words.
"Well, you wanna know the fucked up part? I couldn't bring myself to care enough to call back". The others looked at her from a whole new perspective. The group became quiet and there was only the sound of gunfire in the distance and the crackle of the fire they sat around.
Tough crowd, Bookworm thought to herself.
