Marcy "Reagan" Jackson
22, but she'll tell you she's 18. 18 is cuter.
"Reagan" is small, and she knows it. At just 5' tall, and around 114 pounds, Reagan is short and a little soft. She looks years younger than her age, and barring the 'sexy' look she's decided she wants (see Personality
) to look 'cute'. Her reasoning is mainly that no one, or at least no one living, would want to mug/rape/kill a cute girl. In fact, some living may even be willing to do said cute girl a favor.
Reagan has gray-green eyes, curly brown locks (which falls in perfectly manicured ringlets to the middle of her back, and is almost always pinned just enough to keep it from her eyes), and freckles dotting the bridge of her broad nose, as well as her upper lip. She has a single, tiny stud in her left nostril, and a tattoo she keeps hidden at all costs running between her shoulder blades in furling script. It says simply, Falling Up
Finally, she has a scar starting at the corner of the 'F' of her tattoo, running up over her left shoulder, and curving across her collarbone to end near her right armpit. The scar tissue is still fresh, pink, and painful.
While Reagan's choice in clothing changes about as often as she can get her hands on a new pair of jeans or a less wrinkled blouse, even she can't deny the value of a good pair of boots
. Are they mid-calf, embellished and fur-lined? Yes, of course. But they get the job done. And they're cute. Despite her shallow demeanor, Reagan is also halfway pragmatic and picks clothes according to their function, rather than their form (sort of). She is small, but fast, good at finding places to hide, and will go with a pair of cute cargos (like the ones she's wearing now
) over some too-tight-to-move jeans...usually. And she has mastered the art of layering her tops to go between days and nights, without looking like she's worn the same thing too many times in a row. She is currently wearing a plain white camisole, under a navy blue thermal, under a hooded zip-up sweatshirt, under a waterproof windbreaker
(black). This is the only article of clothing, aside from her boots, that she does not exchange regularly.
Reagan lifted a metal sickle
, a foot and a half in length, from a farm two weeks after the outbreak. She keeps it tucked into her belt loop for easy access, though she's got her fair amount of lacerations on the inside of her left arm to tell the tale. Aside from that, she also carries a switchblade
in her back pocket.
Reagan is saved from being a chronic packrat only by her desire to live. Outside of that, her desire to be pretty means she is constantly picking up discarded beauty items (compacts, make up brushes, mascara wands) and shoving them into her pockets--though they never stay with her for long, even if she does keep the same pants for more than a week.
More practically, she has a small backpack
formerly used by runners, with a built-in canteen (1/2 gallon). At the bottom of the bag, she has a small tin of protein powder, four road flares, and a lighter (roughly half used up). On top of that, and well hidden from prying eyes, she keeps a flask full of scotch, from which she lets absolutely no one see her sip. She also has a small mirror, a hairbrush, four AA batteries (loose), a travel first aid kidt(bandaids, gauze, alcohol wipes, one elastic bandage, two safety pins, tweezers), and two one-foot bungie cords.
In times of trouble, humans adapt to survive. It's a defense mechanism. It's second nature--instinct. For some, this might mean learning to sleep with their eyes open, or heightened endurance, or some shit like that.
For Reagan, adaptation means survival primping.
Reagan is anything but lazy, but refuses to move from one place to the next (unless absolutely necessary, read: imminent death) without (a somewhat digested) morning ritual, now a faded pantomime of what was typical for girls like her prior to the outbreak. Reagan scavenges for make-up when she can, and her cargo pockets are stuffed with empty lipstick tubes, bobby pins, and the occasional bottle of nail polish (for more, see Appearance).
In fact, Reagan is quite intelligent, but following what could be called a psychotic break that occurred shortly after the outbreak, Reagan (then Marcy) changed her name and began focusing on her physical appearance more than she ever had in her former life.
She is not unkind, though she comes across (intentionally) as shallow and vapid, mainly to avoid taking responsibility for herself and others and keep people at a comfortable distance. She has been known to seduce men into giving her what she wants, but Reagan's true personality prevents her from falling back on this often.
In short, Reagan is quiet, intelligent, studious, and kind, but hiding behind a facade of brainless, sexualized privilege to protect herself from the hard truths of the modern world. Both Reagan and her "true" persona, Marcy, are highly nonviolent people and very hemophobic. If she has killed before, human or zombie, she cannot, or will not recall said incident.
Before Reagan was Reagan, she was Marcy, a reserved, bookish girl who rarely spoke to anyone outside her immediate family, consisting of her 5-year-old brother, Jamie, and her twin brother Marcus (yes, her parents were those people). Her mother was an elementary school teacher, and her father was an accountant, and the five of them together were a nauseatingly perfect family. Marcy was comfortable in her position of the shy girl between her attention-loving little brother and her jock twin. A sensitive and empathetic child from early on, Marcy decided she wanted to be a nurse so she could help people, but not a doctor, because she wanted to be able to talk to them, and not just tell them whether or not they were ill.
She started training to become an EMT in her homestate of Florida when she was sixteen, and moved west to attend Emory University to study (pre-)nursing. She worked on and off campus as an EMT all four years, and was just a few months from obtaining her BSN when the outbreak struck. Because she worked as a paramedic in such close proximity to the CDC, she began hearing rumors of the breakout just days before it was nationally announced, and was able to make it home to see her family (Marcus was coaching football back home while he looked for work) in time to see them.
Things had devolved by the time she arrived. There was news of violent, viscous attacks by things being laughably, horribly called "zombies". Her father had made the decision to move his family north, or anywhere, and they were in the process of packing when a "pack" of walkers found and attacked them. In the ensuing chaos, Marcy got away, though she has been suffering from amnesia ever since. She was left only with the wound on her shoulder, and the image of a gray-faced old woman chewing on her five-year-old brother's face.
Marcy 'came to' as Reagan, with the wound across her chest and found herself, for the first time ever, nauseated, repulsed, and even panicked by the sight of blood, even her own. She found herself in the basement of a library nearly twenty miles from her home with only the clothes on her back, her cellphone (cracked and dead), and a wad of cash with questionable origins. With no hints to where her family was, or if they were even alive, she struck out to Portland, Oregon, where her mother's parents lived, up from southern Florida, trading what money she had left (though it was quickly losing value) to hitch rides. In the weeks following, she made it as far as Akron, nearly a zombie herself, so singular and steadfast was her sojourn. She arrived in Akron two days prior to the start of the RP, when her cash ran out and the truck driver she'd taken up with was killed putting gas in the tank. Reagan used the dying man to her advantage, shoving away the guilt as she ran for cover. She had been hiding out on the roof of a department store ever since.