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theluckyones.
name } eri
personal journal } zombitard
other characters currently played } house, castiel
e-mail } zombitard (gmail)
other contact } plurk, aim, whatever you know the drill.
character name } Judith
age } 37
species } human
canon } original character
canon point } whenever the fuck i want, as in, n/a. what.
time & choice } native
history } Judith watched her loved ones die around her. A biologist/teacher who was too stubborn to leave once the virus began to rip through the country, instead of taking her family to safety, she denied all signs that they were susceptible (such a good biologist/parent, huh). It didn't take much more than a few days to see them gone, and by then no one was holding funerals -- hell, there were barely any corpse-removals by that time, either.
She was forcefully evacuated from her suburban home in the great state of Washington; two men in hazmat suits pulled her off of her own children, who had been left huddled together in their bed.
Before the virus ripped through the country, life looked pretty good. Her two children and her husband lived together under one roof, and they lived the typical soccer-family life of school, extra-curriculars, and quick, passionless kisses between the times that they were busy. It wasn't difficult to see that the marriage was rocky. A slow, but powerful rift had begun growing between Judith and Richard for a little over a year. Richard, too idealistic to believe it and Judith, too charming and stubborn to admit what she was seeing, tacitly agreed that ignoring the problem was best.
And she never really thought that it would have worked. Thankfully, she didn't have to -- the flu took them from her before their relationship would ever go completely sour. After being taken from her home and her dead family, Judith found herself at a shelter, in Nevada. There she met others who, like her, were the only ones who survived from their families. People wracked with guilt, self-doubt and loathing, left too empty to care to go on, but bereft of any real will to live. And they began to talk.
Judith found that people would open up to her and share their stories. They all wondered why they were immune and why not their children. They all blamed themselves, and many blamed their spouses and significant others for being weak and allowing their children to die. After about a week, Judith suggested that they begin a caravan. They would move from shelter to shelter finding other people who, like them, had no reason to live and no will to die. They could rebuild the community out of people with immunities and work together to cope and understand the tragedy that befell them.
And it started out as a genuinely philanthropic effort. The teacher within Judith wanted to fix things and help people being anew. The project began to rescue her from her own despair -- the more people she helped, the less she had to think about what had happened to her. She felt that her guilt was beginning to recede, and that maybe she could start fresh, put the past behind her.
Then one of her pupils (that's what they liked to call themselves) took up the symptoms. A young boy, about the same age as her older daughter, who enjoyed skateboarding and playing the guitar. His death was not as quick as her own children's. Weeks dragged on in agonizing pain and illness and finally, at the crest of one month, he succumbed. The panic swept throughout their community, only a scant 150 people who had taken up camp and slow transportation to follow Judith to the new promised land of immunity and love. Now their land was threatened, and they needed their teacher more urgently than she had ever expected to be needed.
Being personally affected and feeling scientifically responsible, Judith has vowed to her pupils to never let her knowledge let them down again. With the help of the handful of other science-minded individuals within their community and volunteers happy to be used for analyzation and experimentation, Judith now leads the troupe across the country, from private practices to hospitals, emergency clinics to veterinary offices, collecting information about the group's apparent immunity and testing the limits of it. The group at large doesn't know the extent to which Judith takes her studies and experiments, but all morality has been thrown out the window.
Judith was once a mildly-happy but conflicted wife and mother of two with a steady income and a job she didn't hate. The flu has turned her into an obsessed zealot-like figure with the resources and knowledge to commit some seriously heinous shit.
personality } As a scientist, Judith tends to be fairly introverted, but when teaching she shows that she can also be extroverted as well. She's skilled in observation, which makes her good at gauging how people perceive her. She's also improvisational and suave, which means she turns those observations into tools which allow her to garner the attention of a room, while speaking. A calm and resilient woman, she's polite, and mannered, but knows that etiquette does not supercede truth. However, her bedside manner and relation to people who wouldn't understand the $10 dollar words of Latin derivatives so often found in scientific texts seems to generally win out.
Morals aren't completely off limits to Judith; she'll uphold what is good to do over what is right to do, in most cases. This provides her greatest inner struggle; whether experimenting on the people who trust her for safety is more right than good, and if so, does this allow her behavior to go unpunished. If not, does she think sacrificing her own soul and meeting this punishment is worth saving their species.
Judith is crap at confrontation. She needs things to run smoothly, to be okay -- which presents another inner struggle. She'd rather try to talk out a problem than yell it out, and it often makes her seem cold, or at least aloof and indifferent. However, she actually feels very strongly about things; her desire to serve the common good simply reigns above all. She's sorry that she dissected your aunt, but your aunt was already dying anyway and she needed to see why the flu took longer to affect her than the others. Because if no one is actually immune and your other aunt dies? That's not going to be Judith's fault.
Unreligious, but guided by an extreme fuckton of do-gooder-syndrome, which Judith's life is kind of plagued by and ends up turning her into a do-badder. She refuses to acknowledge that this zealot-like devotion has at least helped destroy her marriage, sped the end of her family's life more quickly and is definitely going to end badly for her in her new position. For as smart as she is, Judith is actually kind of a fucktard. And she's not crazy. She won't freak out if you call her a psycho, she'll just smile and let one of her pupils take care of you for her.
abilities } academic knowledge (science, teaching, social sciences), common knowledge (she's a pretty decent glorified con-woman), skilled in basic medicine but excels at learning on the fly, which she's been doing as she studies disease and its effects on its environment: humans.
appearance } A really hot almost-forty-year-old, like this. Judith is about 5'9", with short, black, crazily curly hair. It's probably not correct to say she dresses professionally anymore, but if a person can be bohemian-professional, that's Judith. She's long and lanky, and a little severe.
inventory } you want me to list everything in her cult's caravan? c'mon, now...
third person sample }
They brought him to her.
As if she, out of some magical scientific prowess, could fix this now. Judith saw it for what it was: an accusation. A slap the face, as if she needed any more of those. Maybe God did truly exist and he was coming down here to shove Judith's nose in her follies.
But she knew better than that. Judith knew that organisms outgrew their environments, that ugly things happened in order to protect the good of those environments. The countless species that need certain conditions in order to survive together would find a way to do so. Even if that meant wiping out one of the other ones. This time, though, she wouldn't allow it. Judith wouldn't let her carelessness and her lack of character hurt anyone else.
She'd held them like this, too. The way she rocks back and forth leaves her with a nauseous feeling of deja vu only it's not deja vu because it really happened. And it keeps happening.
"You should've brought him to his father." She gets silence back. They never seem to know what to say to her. "We'll need to bury him, yes? Find out what religion dad was. Go from there."
And he's gone. The boy who played music she didn't know until she asked if he knew anything that was actually good, and with a smirk he turned into a minstrel. The boy who played music that told her that not everyone is who they seem to be on the outside. Especially a punk kid with a mohawk and a skateboard. He'd have probably had some tattoos, too, given the chance.
They take his body from her tent, to leave her alone with her thoughts. She knows what she'll be faced with tomorrow, after some sort of service. But their trust is still hers; the only thing keeping her moving forward. And if she's going to stop losing things, the trust is where she'll need to start.
personal journal } zombitard
other characters currently played } house, castiel
e-mail } zombitard (gmail)
other contact } plurk, aim, whatever you know the drill.
character name } Judith
age } 37
species } human
canon } original character
canon point } whenever the fuck i want, as in, n/a. what.
time & choice } native
history } Judith watched her loved ones die around her. A biologist/teacher who was too stubborn to leave once the virus began to rip through the country, instead of taking her family to safety, she denied all signs that they were susceptible (such a good biologist/parent, huh). It didn't take much more than a few days to see them gone, and by then no one was holding funerals -- hell, there were barely any corpse-removals by that time, either.
She was forcefully evacuated from her suburban home in the great state of Washington; two men in hazmat suits pulled her off of her own children, who had been left huddled together in their bed.
Before the virus ripped through the country, life looked pretty good. Her two children and her husband lived together under one roof, and they lived the typical soccer-family life of school, extra-curriculars, and quick, passionless kisses between the times that they were busy. It wasn't difficult to see that the marriage was rocky. A slow, but powerful rift had begun growing between Judith and Richard for a little over a year. Richard, too idealistic to believe it and Judith, too charming and stubborn to admit what she was seeing, tacitly agreed that ignoring the problem was best.
And she never really thought that it would have worked. Thankfully, she didn't have to -- the flu took them from her before their relationship would ever go completely sour. After being taken from her home and her dead family, Judith found herself at a shelter, in Nevada. There she met others who, like her, were the only ones who survived from their families. People wracked with guilt, self-doubt and loathing, left too empty to care to go on, but bereft of any real will to live. And they began to talk.
Judith found that people would open up to her and share their stories. They all wondered why they were immune and why not their children. They all blamed themselves, and many blamed their spouses and significant others for being weak and allowing their children to die. After about a week, Judith suggested that they begin a caravan. They would move from shelter to shelter finding other people who, like them, had no reason to live and no will to die. They could rebuild the community out of people with immunities and work together to cope and understand the tragedy that befell them.
And it started out as a genuinely philanthropic effort. The teacher within Judith wanted to fix things and help people being anew. The project began to rescue her from her own despair -- the more people she helped, the less she had to think about what had happened to her. She felt that her guilt was beginning to recede, and that maybe she could start fresh, put the past behind her.
Then one of her pupils (that's what they liked to call themselves) took up the symptoms. A young boy, about the same age as her older daughter, who enjoyed skateboarding and playing the guitar. His death was not as quick as her own children's. Weeks dragged on in agonizing pain and illness and finally, at the crest of one month, he succumbed. The panic swept throughout their community, only a scant 150 people who had taken up camp and slow transportation to follow Judith to the new promised land of immunity and love. Now their land was threatened, and they needed their teacher more urgently than she had ever expected to be needed.
Being personally affected and feeling scientifically responsible, Judith has vowed to her pupils to never let her knowledge let them down again. With the help of the handful of other science-minded individuals within their community and volunteers happy to be used for analyzation and experimentation, Judith now leads the troupe across the country, from private practices to hospitals, emergency clinics to veterinary offices, collecting information about the group's apparent immunity and testing the limits of it. The group at large doesn't know the extent to which Judith takes her studies and experiments, but all morality has been thrown out the window.
Judith was once a mildly-happy but conflicted wife and mother of two with a steady income and a job she didn't hate. The flu has turned her into an obsessed zealot-like figure with the resources and knowledge to commit some seriously heinous shit.
personality } As a scientist, Judith tends to be fairly introverted, but when teaching she shows that she can also be extroverted as well. She's skilled in observation, which makes her good at gauging how people perceive her. She's also improvisational and suave, which means she turns those observations into tools which allow her to garner the attention of a room, while speaking. A calm and resilient woman, she's polite, and mannered, but knows that etiquette does not supercede truth. However, her bedside manner and relation to people who wouldn't understand the $10 dollar words of Latin derivatives so often found in scientific texts seems to generally win out.
Morals aren't completely off limits to Judith; she'll uphold what is good to do over what is right to do, in most cases. This provides her greatest inner struggle; whether experimenting on the people who trust her for safety is more right than good, and if so, does this allow her behavior to go unpunished. If not, does she think sacrificing her own soul and meeting this punishment is worth saving their species.
Judith is crap at confrontation. She needs things to run smoothly, to be okay -- which presents another inner struggle. She'd rather try to talk out a problem than yell it out, and it often makes her seem cold, or at least aloof and indifferent. However, she actually feels very strongly about things; her desire to serve the common good simply reigns above all. She's sorry that she dissected your aunt, but your aunt was already dying anyway and she needed to see why the flu took longer to affect her than the others. Because if no one is actually immune and your other aunt dies? That's not going to be Judith's fault.
Unreligious, but guided by an extreme fuckton of do-gooder-syndrome, which Judith's life is kind of plagued by and ends up turning her into a do-badder. She refuses to acknowledge that this zealot-like devotion has at least helped destroy her marriage, sped the end of her family's life more quickly and is definitely going to end badly for her in her new position. For as smart as she is, Judith is actually kind of a fucktard. And she's not crazy. She won't freak out if you call her a psycho, she'll just smile and let one of her pupils take care of you for her.
abilities } academic knowledge (science, teaching, social sciences), common knowledge (she's a pretty decent glorified con-woman), skilled in basic medicine but excels at learning on the fly, which she's been doing as she studies disease and its effects on its environment: humans.
appearance } A really hot almost-forty-year-old, like this. Judith is about 5'9", with short, black, crazily curly hair. It's probably not correct to say she dresses professionally anymore, but if a person can be bohemian-professional, that's Judith. She's long and lanky, and a little severe.
inventory } you want me to list everything in her cult's caravan? c'mon, now...
third person sample }
They brought him to her.
As if she, out of some magical scientific prowess, could fix this now. Judith saw it for what it was: an accusation. A slap the face, as if she needed any more of those. Maybe God did truly exist and he was coming down here to shove Judith's nose in her follies.
But she knew better than that. Judith knew that organisms outgrew their environments, that ugly things happened in order to protect the good of those environments. The countless species that need certain conditions in order to survive together would find a way to do so. Even if that meant wiping out one of the other ones. This time, though, she wouldn't allow it. Judith wouldn't let her carelessness and her lack of character hurt anyone else.
She'd held them like this, too. The way she rocks back and forth leaves her with a nauseous feeling of deja vu only it's not deja vu because it really happened. And it keeps happening.
"You should've brought him to his father." She gets silence back. They never seem to know what to say to her. "We'll need to bury him, yes? Find out what religion dad was. Go from there."
And he's gone. The boy who played music she didn't know until she asked if he knew anything that was actually good, and with a smirk he turned into a minstrel. The boy who played music that told her that not everyone is who they seem to be on the outside. Especially a punk kid with a mohawk and a skateboard. He'd have probably had some tattoos, too, given the chance.
They take his body from her tent, to leave her alone with her thoughts. She knows what she'll be faced with tomorrow, after some sort of service. But their trust is still hers; the only thing keeping her moving forward. And if she's going to stop losing things, the trust is where she'll need to start.