Here's some info about my character:
Booker Calhoun was born in 1838, the son of a poor white fisherman in the bayous of Louisiana. He worked at the docks slinging nets and repairing boats with other poor whites and blacks alike. Despite the fact that Louisiana had one of the largest populations of free African Americans in the U.S. at the time, the state still generated most of its wealth from the labor and trade of slaves. When the other Southern States began seceding from the Union, Louisiana followed suit. Booker had absolutely no desire to fight for the interests of wealthy plantation owners, but he was drafted into the Confederate Army nonetheless. He should have died from those bullet wounds at the Battle of Baton Rouge. As he lay on his back, looking up at the summer sky, hot lead lodged into his stomach and chest, he knew he was about to die. By some miracle…or curse…he woke up hours later, feeling very much alive and unnaturally thirsty. The thirst was so powerful, it nearly drove him insane. His new, strong body carried him effortlessly through the swamps until he found a group of haggard Union soldiers, still recovering from the bloody massacre. They screamed when they saw him and tried to flee. Booker caught up to each one and
still couldn’t satisfy the awful ache to devour...
Over the years, Booker’s new abilities have made him cocky and carefree. A self-assured attitude and lazy smirk are his trademarks. He can be very stubborn and hotheaded when he’s irritated. His ego is huge; he despises being shown up or bending to someone else’s rules. He ever backs down from a challenge.
Booker’s Louisiana accent is not quite as strong as it used to be, although he still knows how to lay out that sweet southern drawl when he wants to charm. He loves the hunt and he loves to play with his food. A few rounds of ‘catch and release’ is always a fun way to tire them out until he’s ready to enjoy.
Booker met Lisette in the early days of his new existence. She bugs the hell out of him most of the time and seems to be the only one who knows how to rile him up. He gives just as much as he gets, of course, and enjoys getting under her skin. But despite all their bicker and banter, he acknowledges that they share a profound connection. He might be loath to admit any type of admiration for her, but he does trust her. Any enemy of hers is an enemy of his. He’d go so far as to say she’s like a sister to him – but not out loud or anything.
