Post by Diana Vernon on Jul 30, 2012 0:49:10 GMT -6
Tell us about yourself, if you please.
Name/alias:Paul/Tent-Hent
Age: 20
How long have you been RPing?’bout 5 years now
Do you have any other characters on the site? Clementine Roshan, Julian Bael, and now Cain Streling
Your character: bare bones.
Name:Diana Vernon
Age: 27
Location: Downtown Chicago, Stella’s Freedom Secure Area
Immune or Carrier? Immune
Skills: Empathy, Pinpoint Strike
Status: Married to her duty
Face Claim:Karen Gillan
Picture: Added later, using dial up right now
Brief appearance description: Diana’s general mannerisms and style is, in the eyes of most, overtly masculine. She always wears jeans or cargo pants, even in hot summers, while either wearing a conservative white tank top or whatever long-sleeved wear she’s found during infected hunting expeditions or just scouting out. Her red hair has a deep crimson hue, high volume and moderately cut. She rarely likes staying indoors, so her skin stays dark and freckled, though to some effect of her family genes. She keeps a gun at her pack at all times, usually a rifle, though never really choosey when it comes to it. If it shoots, she’ll take it, as she would if choosing what to wear in the early mornings. She has a well maintained Yamaha motorcycle she takes into the city, and because of that a lot of her wardrobe consists of leathers, and confident in her riding, she often just wears sunglasses instead of a helmet (unless she rides out of the country, where she can ride faster without issues of debris, as well as avoiding the pain of insects to the face, which is still less of an issue in the city as of now). She once had a smile etched on her face at most times, even after the mange virus hit. But since the Kyle Uther’s abandonment, you rarely see her without a scornful expression.
Let's really get inside their head...
Personality: Diana, at one point, was a rambunctious and strong willed young woman. Active and confident in everything she put her mind to, without shame of failure, thought with little modesty in success. She was much more competitive, though still quite athletic and poignant about her interests and personal opinions and desires. What she’s lost the most is her social confidence, fearing or immediately hating any strangers, particularly other immunes (carriers, she sees, are a little more innocent since they have no long lived memory to influence in “wrong” actions), shoving them away and leaving them to Arkadiy or Marshall to handle, rarely deciding to keep the strangers around. Her old self can appear, in bursts, but for the most part she’s retained her high stature and loud mouth, more so than her more friendly sensibilities.
Around her friends, the soldiers of Stella’s Freedom, she has placed all her trust and love in. Her attitude changes since Uther, however, haven’t been averted from them. She is a cold, strict leader at nearly all times. A good hard drink calms the nerves and opens her up, though she usually only drinks in the comfort and privacy of the commander’s room. Though her words don’t exude comfort, her dependency on the members of Stella’s Freedom is made known to them, though she is easily disappointed and shows it when they fall hard on a task. With success, she remains passive, using objects or subtle gestures to show her approval. At this point, in her mind, they don’t need to be coddled like children to get the job done. Kyle Uther didn’t do that, and she feels no need to break a consistency that was, at one point, working well for them.
In combat, her father’s talks and lessons on being a combat medic has done well for her. She carries, along with her rifle, a med-pack stuffed to the brim with necessary with gauge, tools, disinfectant, and the like. She takes shots when she must, but knowing how fierce the infected can be in a fight, and how long the fight goes, combat injury is a commonality that can’t be avoided, and she is far more prepared to aid her companions rather than fight alongside. She stays farther back, working as commander while the others scout and fight. Her life with her father, and her later realization that women could not be real soldiers in America, gave way to her learning knowledge on squad tactics by herself, and Kyle himself gave her a lot of advice on combating infected specifically. She, at least from what she’s observed, is the most experienced in the team when it’s come to infected, and with the pressure of that knowledge comes the realization that, without her, Stella’s Freedom and all its efforts would be lost. For Kyle’s sake, and the sake of their cause, she will continue to fight and push for a brighter future, as the best damn leader the survivors of this plague can hope for… even if that’s not what she was meant to be.
Likes: at least 3
Biology
High-stress situations
Strong women
Good listeners
Whiskey
Her motorcycle
Dislikes: at least 3
Wimps, especially men
Infected
Stranger
Long-abandoned skyscrapers
Pistols
Strengths:
Quick thinker
Leadership mentality
Good combat surgeon
Trusting of those loyal
Weaknesses:
Distrusting of strangers
Limited knowledge of medicine
Easily broken by thoughts of the past
Delving into Alcoholism
Fears:
Losing any more of her friends
Being caught unaware by an infected
Supply loss
Traveling during nighttime
Family:
Hubert Vernon (father, infected)
Leighanne Vernon (mother, deceased)
Gabrielle Vernon (sister, deceased)
History: Before Diana came about, as with any human being, there was her father Hubert Vernon, a marine in the U.S. military, and the last generation of soldiers occupying Afghanistan. The political climate in the Middle East had reached a breaking point, with multiple terrorist groups vying for power on the weakened middle eastern states. The chain of rebellions that started at Libya and Egypt had ended there, and the fighting turned beyond the control and budget of the U.S. military. Advisory from the United Nations claimed Afghanistan was not worth fighting more, and any supplements for any other projects would be ceased until U.S. activity was halted from the volatile nation. As such, though at a slow pace, the United States abandoned the warzone, at the cost of little but their pride.
Hubert Vernon saw war in its purest, most despicable, most traumatic form before he was sent back home. The chaos, the ambushes, the bombings. Civilians murdered by rebels that claimed to have their best interest. The wrath of U.S. soldiers in the wake of terrorist brutality; to their enemies and to the innocent alike. His original company was almost utterly decimated in combat that could not be avoided, and he left with not only few other soldiers, but none that he knew personally. Some would consider him lucky, but not him.
Hubert Vernon was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder, overseas for 3 years. His child, Diana, was born before 9 months after he left for seas, and he thanked the day he could see her birth via webcam. He had hoped to take care of his child and teach her of the virtues and blessings America had to offer. The horrors of battle was too much for him to handle in the professional world back home, and after many failed attempts to keep a job, he was determined at the very least to father his daughter full time. His wife, Leighanne, was not raised for the business world by her more traditional parents. With barely any college education, but with some natural speaking talents and business tact, she kept up an income through freelance jobs, though not enough to handle their original living standards. The U.S. had made cuts in welfare for soldiers suffering with disabilities and disorders from the war, and what was given was not near enough to keep their middle class home and lifestyle. They had moved to a new set of projects in downtown Chicago, promising a reformed school system with easily accessible jobs nearby. The housing was cheap, and there were some jobs for the first comers, but still Leighanne had little knowledge to offer the workplaces, and Hubert could barely handle a loud noise or shift in light. Here, they live, but not well.
Diana and her older sister Gabrielle didn’t mind so much, as both were rather young after their move. Besides, they had each other, both adventurous and ambitious young girls, though Gabrielle was noticeably more ‘feminine’, in the eyes of others, than her sister Diana. While Gabrielle spent more time cleaning the house and helping her mother with other tasks, Diana spoke a lot to her father, hearing his stories on the war; mostly of the more innocent days, with his friends, disabling roadside bombs, saving villagers from the local tyrants, and so on. Whatever money he could spare, he would take Diana to the shooting range with a rented hunting rifle, teaching her everything she knows now about marksmanship. He would break from such comfort zones often though, and Diana would stay with him, stoic, comforting him with a firm grasp and the best words a child could form to help him understand the love of his family. And it worked, sometimes, before he got too violent or out of control. Diana thought of herself, as the years went by, as the family’s true father figure. Her grades were good, she could chase boys away better than the biggest guys in school, and especially, her dad’s talk of the military garnered a dream of becoming a soldier herself.
Her dad was never lucid enough to tell her that women still hadn’t the rights to enter in combat roles, and she hadn’t learned of this until a classroom discussion on 1990’s history brought it up. She could not hide her disappointment, her anger, her frustration that she couldn’t truly be a part of what her dad had always talked about. She knew his dad was so imbalanced because of it, she knew he sat around the house, drinking and sulking, because of his experiences there. But as a maturing twelve year old girl, she felt he was simply too weak to handle it, and she knew she could be stronger than men like his father if she was given the chance. Her insistence on the unfairness of it all during the discussion got on the nerves of other students around her. She was already a little loud mouthed white girl in a mostly colored neighborhood, but she usually acted cocky, not so hopeless. Some boys confronted her, making fun of her plight. They thought they could, she never really struck them… until now. Of the three, two left with black eyes, and the last with a broken nose, perhaps more if the security guards at the school hadn’t stopped her. She was suspended for two weeks, and alone with her dad, he did all he could, when his mind would allow it, to explain to her that it was for the best. Her sister tried to give her other things to occupy her time, and her mother well… she would, if she had the time. But Diana was no girl to be shoved so swiftly away from her dreams. She spent what time she had reading up on old feminist movements in the 20th century, on modern day politics, the current politicians and political movement. It lasted as long as the suspension, and all she really carried was an immature opinion on the issue, and a deeper fear seeded in the schools of what she could do if they argued with her.
When high school came, it stayed relatively the same. She had grown into something more than a ‘little white girl’, being 5’11 and quite muscular. She participated in track and softball, knowing that a sports scholarship was usually the best way to get out of a down -stricken community. It had gone as best as it could for a girl in her position… until the death of her sister. It wasn’t uncommon for a shooting or assault to happen around that neighborhood, but after a while without much issue, Gabrielle got a bit too confident one day. Taking a walk to a theatre where she was supposed to meet her friends, she was attacked, raped, and murdered, barely intact by the time they found her body, missing for weeks. Hearing the news, a 16 year old Diana stared stoically at their home’s unkempt carpeting as her mother broke into uncontrollable tears, and her father locking himself inside his room and refusing to come out for days. Diana told herself not to cry, that that’s exactly what the killer would have wanted from her family. It was weakness, and Gabrielle would not want Diana to lose everything she was to show that she missed her. She already knew she did, she knew that without her, an emptiness was made in her heart that could never be filled. Gabrielle would rather she fight than wallow in pity and remorse.
Diana became the most prominent feminist activist in her high school community, her heart and knowledge an inspiration even to those that had shunned her from the community. The news of her sister's death had been well known, and they had let her speak her mind within reason, but little could be done at her age and education. She had promised herself that she would work for women’s rights, against rape culture and for the protection and welfare of her community. She searched for colleges that she could pay for through student aid and scholarships, but her household was crumbling around her. Her mother could barely handle her freelance work, and the drink her father consumed was just growing more and more. Money was slim, and they couldn’t keep paying for their little shanty anymore. They were going to be foreclosed on… until the Mange Virus hit.
Her dad had locked her in the basement when the news came about. He wanted her to survive, to protect her as the virus began to go airborne. He was still a little stronger than her, and he got her half sleeping. Knocking at the door, screaming for her parents, she eventually quieted, listening to the screams and eventually howls that drifted through the streets of Chicago. She sat on the stairwell, staring at the unusually orange light radiating from the basement windows, taking notice to the soft growling and crawling above her a day after being locked in. The noise died, and she had enough of it. She threw herself at the door, over and over again for hours, chipping slowly away at the door hinges until it cracked apart, falling face flat on the rough carpet below her. She frantically searched around the room for a sign of her parents, nowhere to be seen. She finally came to her parent’s room, the body of her mother laying peacefully on her bed, facing away as though just fallen asleep. A tear slid down Diana’s cheek, but as quickly as she noticed she sniffed and wiped it away, closing the door. “Goodnight, mom.” She whispered.
She found her dad’s old M4 Carbine, 50 rounds, and a bit of whiskey. She took a whiff of it, repulsed, and took a big swill. Her body convulsed from the bitter wave that coursed through, but after a moment she felt energized, alive. She took a few bottles in a pack, along with some other food and the rifle, and walked out into the streets, without aim and with a nameless purpose. Nameless until she found Kyle.
She lost herself in a veil of strength she determined to have when she walked out of that house, a strength Kyle both disdained and valued. Others came to him for a shelter, and got trapped into his dream of hunting down all infected. Yet she came later, and with the intention of hunting with him. His gentlemanly demeanor and somewhat scrawny, older physique made her feel superior to him to a certain extent. His words were loud, though, and most of all rang true to her values. She took comfort in his words as he took comfort in her tactical prowess. They collaborated together, alone and often, to speak of new ways to destroy the infected and bolster their army. But Kyle’s little apartment building grew tight and inhospitable, so the two of them decided it was best to find a new base of operations.
Kyle and Diana did their best to keep the ‘first generation’ from staying on their toes, fearful from ambushes or running into a large pack during the travel. But upon finding the well preserved Walgreens on Michigan Avenue, it was clear that this fortress-in-making was the perfect place to continue on with their crusade. Her excitement was at a peak; her ties with her new friends at Stella’s Freedom a dream come true. This was the life she wanted as a soldier, her father’s desires, a mission completed to her past life. She could not have predicted Kyle Uther’s abandonment.
It was decided by a small majority of the soldiers in Stella’s Freedom that she was to take her place. She expected as much, seeing as the others had more specific talents, not pertaining to leadership. But she did not ask for it. His disappearance left the same sense of emptiness felt when her sister had died, but unlike then, it did not make her feel stronger, just… like the girl she was then. Just like a helpless young high schooler waiting to mature into her rights and voice. But Kyle’s soldiers… her soldiers, made her aware that they trusted her. Not to the same extent, perhaps, but perhaps they could grow into something different, something better. In time, however, for what remains is little of her old self, and slowly she is trying to replace that with Kyle’s virtues. Whatever conflict awaits, she’s determined to take it full front, as she believed she would in the past, and as she knows she needs to now.
What do you think of this situation?
It could be worse.
Name/alias:Paul/Tent-Hent
Age: 20
How long have you been RPing?’bout 5 years now
Do you have any other characters on the site? Clementine Roshan, Julian Bael, and now Cain Streling
Your character: bare bones.
Name:Diana Vernon
Age: 27
Location: Downtown Chicago, Stella’s Freedom Secure Area
Immune or Carrier? Immune
Skills: Empathy, Pinpoint Strike
Status: Married to her duty
Face Claim:Karen Gillan
Picture: Added later, using dial up right now
Brief appearance description: Diana’s general mannerisms and style is, in the eyes of most, overtly masculine. She always wears jeans or cargo pants, even in hot summers, while either wearing a conservative white tank top or whatever long-sleeved wear she’s found during infected hunting expeditions or just scouting out. Her red hair has a deep crimson hue, high volume and moderately cut. She rarely likes staying indoors, so her skin stays dark and freckled, though to some effect of her family genes. She keeps a gun at her pack at all times, usually a rifle, though never really choosey when it comes to it. If it shoots, she’ll take it, as she would if choosing what to wear in the early mornings. She has a well maintained Yamaha motorcycle she takes into the city, and because of that a lot of her wardrobe consists of leathers, and confident in her riding, she often just wears sunglasses instead of a helmet (unless she rides out of the country, where she can ride faster without issues of debris, as well as avoiding the pain of insects to the face, which is still less of an issue in the city as of now). She once had a smile etched on her face at most times, even after the mange virus hit. But since the Kyle Uther’s abandonment, you rarely see her without a scornful expression.
Let's really get inside their head...
Personality: Diana, at one point, was a rambunctious and strong willed young woman. Active and confident in everything she put her mind to, without shame of failure, thought with little modesty in success. She was much more competitive, though still quite athletic and poignant about her interests and personal opinions and desires. What she’s lost the most is her social confidence, fearing or immediately hating any strangers, particularly other immunes (carriers, she sees, are a little more innocent since they have no long lived memory to influence in “wrong” actions), shoving them away and leaving them to Arkadiy or Marshall to handle, rarely deciding to keep the strangers around. Her old self can appear, in bursts, but for the most part she’s retained her high stature and loud mouth, more so than her more friendly sensibilities.
Around her friends, the soldiers of Stella’s Freedom, she has placed all her trust and love in. Her attitude changes since Uther, however, haven’t been averted from them. She is a cold, strict leader at nearly all times. A good hard drink calms the nerves and opens her up, though she usually only drinks in the comfort and privacy of the commander’s room. Though her words don’t exude comfort, her dependency on the members of Stella’s Freedom is made known to them, though she is easily disappointed and shows it when they fall hard on a task. With success, she remains passive, using objects or subtle gestures to show her approval. At this point, in her mind, they don’t need to be coddled like children to get the job done. Kyle Uther didn’t do that, and she feels no need to break a consistency that was, at one point, working well for them.
In combat, her father’s talks and lessons on being a combat medic has done well for her. She carries, along with her rifle, a med-pack stuffed to the brim with necessary with gauge, tools, disinfectant, and the like. She takes shots when she must, but knowing how fierce the infected can be in a fight, and how long the fight goes, combat injury is a commonality that can’t be avoided, and she is far more prepared to aid her companions rather than fight alongside. She stays farther back, working as commander while the others scout and fight. Her life with her father, and her later realization that women could not be real soldiers in America, gave way to her learning knowledge on squad tactics by herself, and Kyle himself gave her a lot of advice on combating infected specifically. She, at least from what she’s observed, is the most experienced in the team when it’s come to infected, and with the pressure of that knowledge comes the realization that, without her, Stella’s Freedom and all its efforts would be lost. For Kyle’s sake, and the sake of their cause, she will continue to fight and push for a brighter future, as the best damn leader the survivors of this plague can hope for… even if that’s not what she was meant to be.
Likes: at least 3
Biology
High-stress situations
Strong women
Good listeners
Whiskey
Her motorcycle
Dislikes: at least 3
Wimps, especially men
Infected
Stranger
Long-abandoned skyscrapers
Pistols
Strengths:
Quick thinker
Leadership mentality
Good combat surgeon
Trusting of those loyal
Weaknesses:
Distrusting of strangers
Limited knowledge of medicine
Easily broken by thoughts of the past
Delving into Alcoholism
Fears:
Losing any more of her friends
Being caught unaware by an infected
Supply loss
Traveling during nighttime
Family:
Hubert Vernon (father, infected)
Leighanne Vernon (mother, deceased)
Gabrielle Vernon (sister, deceased)
History: Before Diana came about, as with any human being, there was her father Hubert Vernon, a marine in the U.S. military, and the last generation of soldiers occupying Afghanistan. The political climate in the Middle East had reached a breaking point, with multiple terrorist groups vying for power on the weakened middle eastern states. The chain of rebellions that started at Libya and Egypt had ended there, and the fighting turned beyond the control and budget of the U.S. military. Advisory from the United Nations claimed Afghanistan was not worth fighting more, and any supplements for any other projects would be ceased until U.S. activity was halted from the volatile nation. As such, though at a slow pace, the United States abandoned the warzone, at the cost of little but their pride.
Hubert Vernon saw war in its purest, most despicable, most traumatic form before he was sent back home. The chaos, the ambushes, the bombings. Civilians murdered by rebels that claimed to have their best interest. The wrath of U.S. soldiers in the wake of terrorist brutality; to their enemies and to the innocent alike. His original company was almost utterly decimated in combat that could not be avoided, and he left with not only few other soldiers, but none that he knew personally. Some would consider him lucky, but not him.
Hubert Vernon was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder, overseas for 3 years. His child, Diana, was born before 9 months after he left for seas, and he thanked the day he could see her birth via webcam. He had hoped to take care of his child and teach her of the virtues and blessings America had to offer. The horrors of battle was too much for him to handle in the professional world back home, and after many failed attempts to keep a job, he was determined at the very least to father his daughter full time. His wife, Leighanne, was not raised for the business world by her more traditional parents. With barely any college education, but with some natural speaking talents and business tact, she kept up an income through freelance jobs, though not enough to handle their original living standards. The U.S. had made cuts in welfare for soldiers suffering with disabilities and disorders from the war, and what was given was not near enough to keep their middle class home and lifestyle. They had moved to a new set of projects in downtown Chicago, promising a reformed school system with easily accessible jobs nearby. The housing was cheap, and there were some jobs for the first comers, but still Leighanne had little knowledge to offer the workplaces, and Hubert could barely handle a loud noise or shift in light. Here, they live, but not well.
Diana and her older sister Gabrielle didn’t mind so much, as both were rather young after their move. Besides, they had each other, both adventurous and ambitious young girls, though Gabrielle was noticeably more ‘feminine’, in the eyes of others, than her sister Diana. While Gabrielle spent more time cleaning the house and helping her mother with other tasks, Diana spoke a lot to her father, hearing his stories on the war; mostly of the more innocent days, with his friends, disabling roadside bombs, saving villagers from the local tyrants, and so on. Whatever money he could spare, he would take Diana to the shooting range with a rented hunting rifle, teaching her everything she knows now about marksmanship. He would break from such comfort zones often though, and Diana would stay with him, stoic, comforting him with a firm grasp and the best words a child could form to help him understand the love of his family. And it worked, sometimes, before he got too violent or out of control. Diana thought of herself, as the years went by, as the family’s true father figure. Her grades were good, she could chase boys away better than the biggest guys in school, and especially, her dad’s talk of the military garnered a dream of becoming a soldier herself.
Her dad was never lucid enough to tell her that women still hadn’t the rights to enter in combat roles, and she hadn’t learned of this until a classroom discussion on 1990’s history brought it up. She could not hide her disappointment, her anger, her frustration that she couldn’t truly be a part of what her dad had always talked about. She knew his dad was so imbalanced because of it, she knew he sat around the house, drinking and sulking, because of his experiences there. But as a maturing twelve year old girl, she felt he was simply too weak to handle it, and she knew she could be stronger than men like his father if she was given the chance. Her insistence on the unfairness of it all during the discussion got on the nerves of other students around her. She was already a little loud mouthed white girl in a mostly colored neighborhood, but she usually acted cocky, not so hopeless. Some boys confronted her, making fun of her plight. They thought they could, she never really struck them… until now. Of the three, two left with black eyes, and the last with a broken nose, perhaps more if the security guards at the school hadn’t stopped her. She was suspended for two weeks, and alone with her dad, he did all he could, when his mind would allow it, to explain to her that it was for the best. Her sister tried to give her other things to occupy her time, and her mother well… she would, if she had the time. But Diana was no girl to be shoved so swiftly away from her dreams. She spent what time she had reading up on old feminist movements in the 20th century, on modern day politics, the current politicians and political movement. It lasted as long as the suspension, and all she really carried was an immature opinion on the issue, and a deeper fear seeded in the schools of what she could do if they argued with her.
When high school came, it stayed relatively the same. She had grown into something more than a ‘little white girl’, being 5’11 and quite muscular. She participated in track and softball, knowing that a sports scholarship was usually the best way to get out of a down -stricken community. It had gone as best as it could for a girl in her position… until the death of her sister. It wasn’t uncommon for a shooting or assault to happen around that neighborhood, but after a while without much issue, Gabrielle got a bit too confident one day. Taking a walk to a theatre where she was supposed to meet her friends, she was attacked, raped, and murdered, barely intact by the time they found her body, missing for weeks. Hearing the news, a 16 year old Diana stared stoically at their home’s unkempt carpeting as her mother broke into uncontrollable tears, and her father locking himself inside his room and refusing to come out for days. Diana told herself not to cry, that that’s exactly what the killer would have wanted from her family. It was weakness, and Gabrielle would not want Diana to lose everything she was to show that she missed her. She already knew she did, she knew that without her, an emptiness was made in her heart that could never be filled. Gabrielle would rather she fight than wallow in pity and remorse.
Diana became the most prominent feminist activist in her high school community, her heart and knowledge an inspiration even to those that had shunned her from the community. The news of her sister's death had been well known, and they had let her speak her mind within reason, but little could be done at her age and education. She had promised herself that she would work for women’s rights, against rape culture and for the protection and welfare of her community. She searched for colleges that she could pay for through student aid and scholarships, but her household was crumbling around her. Her mother could barely handle her freelance work, and the drink her father consumed was just growing more and more. Money was slim, and they couldn’t keep paying for their little shanty anymore. They were going to be foreclosed on… until the Mange Virus hit.
Her dad had locked her in the basement when the news came about. He wanted her to survive, to protect her as the virus began to go airborne. He was still a little stronger than her, and he got her half sleeping. Knocking at the door, screaming for her parents, she eventually quieted, listening to the screams and eventually howls that drifted through the streets of Chicago. She sat on the stairwell, staring at the unusually orange light radiating from the basement windows, taking notice to the soft growling and crawling above her a day after being locked in. The noise died, and she had enough of it. She threw herself at the door, over and over again for hours, chipping slowly away at the door hinges until it cracked apart, falling face flat on the rough carpet below her. She frantically searched around the room for a sign of her parents, nowhere to be seen. She finally came to her parent’s room, the body of her mother laying peacefully on her bed, facing away as though just fallen asleep. A tear slid down Diana’s cheek, but as quickly as she noticed she sniffed and wiped it away, closing the door. “Goodnight, mom.” She whispered.
She found her dad’s old M4 Carbine, 50 rounds, and a bit of whiskey. She took a whiff of it, repulsed, and took a big swill. Her body convulsed from the bitter wave that coursed through, but after a moment she felt energized, alive. She took a few bottles in a pack, along with some other food and the rifle, and walked out into the streets, without aim and with a nameless purpose. Nameless until she found Kyle.
She lost herself in a veil of strength she determined to have when she walked out of that house, a strength Kyle both disdained and valued. Others came to him for a shelter, and got trapped into his dream of hunting down all infected. Yet she came later, and with the intention of hunting with him. His gentlemanly demeanor and somewhat scrawny, older physique made her feel superior to him to a certain extent. His words were loud, though, and most of all rang true to her values. She took comfort in his words as he took comfort in her tactical prowess. They collaborated together, alone and often, to speak of new ways to destroy the infected and bolster their army. But Kyle’s little apartment building grew tight and inhospitable, so the two of them decided it was best to find a new base of operations.
Kyle and Diana did their best to keep the ‘first generation’ from staying on their toes, fearful from ambushes or running into a large pack during the travel. But upon finding the well preserved Walgreens on Michigan Avenue, it was clear that this fortress-in-making was the perfect place to continue on with their crusade. Her excitement was at a peak; her ties with her new friends at Stella’s Freedom a dream come true. This was the life she wanted as a soldier, her father’s desires, a mission completed to her past life. She could not have predicted Kyle Uther’s abandonment.
It was decided by a small majority of the soldiers in Stella’s Freedom that she was to take her place. She expected as much, seeing as the others had more specific talents, not pertaining to leadership. But she did not ask for it. His disappearance left the same sense of emptiness felt when her sister had died, but unlike then, it did not make her feel stronger, just… like the girl she was then. Just like a helpless young high schooler waiting to mature into her rights and voice. But Kyle’s soldiers… her soldiers, made her aware that they trusted her. Not to the same extent, perhaps, but perhaps they could grow into something different, something better. In time, however, for what remains is little of her old self, and slowly she is trying to replace that with Kyle’s virtues. Whatever conflict awaits, she’s determined to take it full front, as she believed she would in the past, and as she knows she needs to now.
What do you think of this situation?
It could be worse.