Liz and Batty :: Our creepy bird zombies ;)

You know the plot? Good. (:

Shaelynn Grace Solana
Shae
Female
19
Looks
I used to be very vain with my looks and stuff; I was one of those people that always cared about how straight their hair was, or how exact their make-up was, or how much their stomach hung over their mini skirts, even though that has never been a problem for me. I used to have striking light green eyes, a lot like a cat’s. I had super long, dark red hair. It was always perfectly straight, and if it wasn’t, I spent the whole day wondering who would notice. I always wore the skimpiest of outfits, although that’s not very practical anymore with the weather and all. Besides, if more skin is being revealed, there’s more for people – well, are they really people anymore? – to tear at and rip open. Ugh. And I was one of those girls that were at the top of the food chain in high school. When I got to college, it was pretty terrifying. People didn’t play those petty games anymore. I was so used to it that I had to, and I guess I still do. I guess that’s why people always stayed away from me; I intimidated them.
That’s what I used to look like anyway. Now I have my hair cut short to keep it out of my face when I’m running. That’s what I do best, run. Maybe I could have been an athlete in school, but now there’s no hope or future for it. Anyway, my hair is also so tangled and dirty that you can’t even see the red; it just looks dead and brown, like everything else here. My perfect skin is now scarred and dry and chapped, bloodied and bruised as markings of these trials that I’m enduring. My clothes are torn in places that usually wouldn’t have clothing, but now it’s just embarrassing. It feels like just one more way my humanity is slowly slipping away from me. Just the other day I felt the urge to kill a passing dog that was limping by. Not for food or anything, but just to kill it. I think I’m losing my mind. My supplies are all gone. I’m relying on hunting and gathering now, killing pets and small animals and trying to cook them over small fires. I’m getting better, but every once in a while, I still burn the meat.
The two things about me that look the same are my figure and my eyes. Although I am a little thinner – ah, who am I kidding, I’m just over 80 pounds – it’s not a change since I’ve never been able to really hold body fat. Add that to the fact that I didn’t want to gain any weight, and I don’t think I’ve ever weighed more than 110. And my eyes. They still shine with a fierce light of determination, a spark that shouts survival. That same unholy glare of superiority that scared the daylight out of so many of my peers is now my salvation; I am not shot at a distance when I stumble along the road. They know that I’m human. Human…
Abilities
As I’ve previously stated, my greatest asset for survival is running. I run with everything I’ve got, whether it’s getting food or escaping that insane person chasing me. I find running very soothing, I can think of things I never would have before. It’s funny that I find escaping danger so peaceful. My greatest offensive ability? Well, I have a fairly good shot because my dad used to take me hunting when I was really little and before it was “uncool” to do so. But it doesn’t matter because I haven’t been able to find a gun in weeks. Stupid England.
Disabilities
I’m small (weight-wise, I’m pretty tall) and I’m weak. If anything ever comes down to hand-to-hand combat, I’m screwed. I can hold my own if the person is weaker than me or doesn’t know how to fight since I’ve been in too many cat-fights, but other than that, I’m a dead bitch. I’m also not that great with fighting with knives. I’m good at using them, but not fighting with them. Personality wise, I’m not very trusting, which is both a blessing and a curse. I also have a hard time listening to other people’s advice, although I’m pretty good at handing it out.
I will enjoy making you suffer.