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~Personal Info ~
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Designation: Rebecca Anne Haxley
Call Name: Hex, or Becca, depending on who you're talking to. It's probably Hex, though.
Cycles past: 19
Sex: Female
It's in the blood: White
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 136 lbs
Hair: Brown
Eye Color: Violet
Physic: Hex is tall and thin, with a built made for running and gunning. She's stronger than she looks, though, and extremely flexible. She tends to look like she couldn't care less about her appearance, and in the current state of things, really couldn't.
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~Dig a bit Deeper~
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~Dig a bit Deeper~
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Occupation: Well, Rebecca was a Student... and I was being kept locked up tight with pills.
Loyalties: Loners
I can't help it! ... wait, you're kidding, right? No one and nothing. I'm not about to be the dumb girl who gets eaten cuz she couldn't keep her pants on.
It's fun:
☆ Cleaning my knives
☆ Singing to myself
☆ ... does talking to Rebecca count?
Thanks much:
♡ Having food to eat
♡ Having clothes on my back
♡ Someone else keeping watch so I can catch some Z's.
♡ ... Rebecca likes animals. Puppies and Kittens mostly.
♡ ... and reading paranormal romance fiction... wait, lady porn? ... Okay, she calls it paranormal romance fiction, but I call it lady porn.
No way:
☠ Idiots
☠ Cutthroats
☠ Getting blood on my clothes
☠ Having to sleep in the rain
☠ That disgusting moaning noise that the walkers make... like, what is that? Are they trying to breathe? News flash, you're a corpse!
What the hell:
× Not being me in the middle of a crisis. Like, Rebecca taking over, basically. She's totally useless.
× Waking up and finding something chewing on my foot or something.
× Putting my trust in the wrong people.
Can't Change It: Well, see, it depends on who you're talking about. Me, I'm pretty much a grade-A b***h, I'll be the first to admit it. I hate everyone and trust them about as far as I can throw them. Which is to sat that I only trust kids. And I only trust them to be stupid and get killed. Which they do. Constantly. But anyway... I'm brash, I'm rude, and I don't particularly care what your sob story is, because I've got my own, thanks very much. As if I need to listen to you moan about how your husband got bit and you didn't know better and tried to help him and then he tried to eat you or some other nonsense... As for Rebecca... well, she basically the opposite. She'd LOVE to hear all about it. Actually, if you wait long enough, you can tell her instead. She was a Psychology major in college, I'm sure she'd love to pick your brain. She's also way too happy, way too upbeat, and way too useless. She freaks out if you so much as say the word 'undead' and will promptly hide behind whoever seems to be the biggest and strongest person around. Wimp. But, she knows it. She thinks that her strengths lie in the intellectual area... which they do. Too bad those strengths are basically moot now. All she's good for is... honestly, I don't know. I guess just listening to your sob story, really.
History is set in stone: I haven't got much to tell you about Rebecca's life before the whole 'end of the world' thing started. See, if you haven't figured it out yet, we suffer from a split-personality disorder. Becca's the 'real' person and I'm like an intruder in her brain or something. So, as soon as they realized what was going on with her, at a fairly young age, they started stuffing her with pills to shut me up. I think it was because she saw our mom get murdered. She couldn't handle it, and thus, I was born. Everyone else thinks I'm like her evil twin or something, but I'm the strong one. I'm the one who can take it. Who can hack it. Who can live in spite of all the awful things that happen. She doesn't even remember Mom dying; I do. When I close my eyes, I see it happening, again and again, in an endless loop, like a replay of her death.
Early childhood for us was pretty normal, I remember all that because we were the same person back then. Mom and Dad were a nice, normal couple. No siblings. Just us and the 'rents, kicking it old school. We lived out in the country, in a town with more churches than people. Our dad did ranch work, and our mom worked at the local convenience store. In their free time, and on their vacations, we'd go out into the woods and camp. Dad taught us to shoot, a crossbow and a hunter's rifle. We always preferred the crossbow; quieter, with ammunition you could reuse. We got pretty good with it when it came to shooting targets, but we... I really feel like this is mostly Becca, but we hadn't split yet at the time, so I can't rightly say, but we didn't like actually shooting the animals. Made us queasy. Like I said, pretty sure that's mostly Becca. I didn't exist back then, they say. I think that's bull. I existed; I was the voice that was always trying to get Becca to go out and play, to climb trees and run wild. All she ever wanted to do was curl up with our parents and let them read her a story.
Mom's death happened when we were ten. A neighbor had picked us up from school. Since both our parents were at work, we were staying next door until one of them got off. But, we wanted to see Mom before we headed home, so Edith, the neighbor, took us by her store. We don't really remember the guy who did it; he walked in, seemed normal to us, but then, we were ten. Next thing we knew, he was shouting, pointing a gun at Mom, and then her shirt was red. It'd been white... but it was red.
And everything after that is foggy for me. I get little glimpses, moments where something was going on that Becca couldn't handle. Dad's heart attack, Nana's death. Things like that. I know other things from her journals; our doctor made us keep them. I only had one, since I was around so little, but she has pages and pages and pages. A novel, really. Maybe two. I know that our condition got her interested in psychology, so she went to college to study that. And that she hadn't gone hunting with Dad wince Mom's death. The blood freaked her out, which is ridiculous, since she doesn't really remember it. I know that because it's on the tapes of her conversations with our doctor. We got to listen to each other's tapes; it was supposed to make us realize we were the same person. It didn't, though; the only thing that made us sound the same was the fact that it was the same voice.
When everything started, Becca was trying to stick with her boyfriend, Luke. He had her grab a bag of clothes and whatever else she wanted (her Crossbow, along with a freaking textbook, for whatever reason) and they left. She convinced him to drive down to Dad's place, but he was gone. All that was there was his truck, which they raided. No gas in it, but they did get a Tire Iron and a Hatchet, which was useful.
And then... she ran out of meds. The end of the world seemed timed perfectly to ensure that I'd take over ASAP, because she only had pills for two days after it started. Two days later, I was at the forefront, and she was more than happy to let me stay there, especially after I had to bash Luke's head in because he got bit. I think she recognized that she couldn't handle this. So, she let me take over. Now, she generally stays quiet, except for rare instances where things are relatively calm. Then, she likes to have her moment out. I usually let it happen... but I'm really scared to, because neither of us really has any real control over our switching out. I'm pretty sure that when I die, it'll be because she completely takes over and something awful happens while she's the one walking around. It's a real concern. The one thing I can say for the girl is that she was smart enough to always keep her crossbow around, and so it was on me when everything went to hell. I have to find and retrieve the bolts each time I shoot it or I'll run out, and it's a pain, but it's better than wandering around with nothing but a stick.
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~Combat info~
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~Combat info~
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Main Weapon: Crossbow and Bolts (10)Secondary Weapons: A Tire Iron and a Small Hatchet, from dad's trunk.
Strengths: I'm wiry and flexible, so I can get myself out of a sticky situation, and I'm already broken, mentally I mean, so it's not like this is gonna break me.
Weaknesses: Well... being broken has its downsides. Like the fact that Becca and I swap constantly with no real rhyme or reason at times. And, I'm not exceptionally strong. Stronger than I look, for sure, but that's not saying much.
Combat style: I try to keep to high ground and shoot them with my Crossbow, but when I'm on the ground, I tend to do a lot of running. If I'm stuck, I'll bash in a head or two. I try not to use the Hatchet much, since it's sort of hard to pull out of a skull when there's a lot of them, but it gets the job done.
Supplies:
Unmarked Canned Goods x 6
Beef Jerky x 12
Can Opener
Matchbox (100 count) x 2
Water Bottle with Filter
Small Hunting Knife
Sewing Kit
The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
Tylenol Bottle (10 remaining capsules)
Spare Boots
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~In addition~
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~In addition~
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Themes: For Whom The Bell Tolls // Oh, Death
Vehicle: None
Others: N/A
