NAME: evelyn lisbeth wolff.
AGE & DOB: 22; october 20, 1990.
FORMER OCCUPATION: she was spending the summer between her secondary school and college years in new york with relatives (living in manhattan) at the time of the outbreak. she had been admitted to oxford university of law with a fully paid scholarship.
SEXUALITY: heterosexual.
BIOGRAPHY: on the twentieth of october, nineteen-ninety, a little after ten, a man with nothing to loose and everything to gain drove his small, compact, european car through hamburg, germany; little squeak-toy-like horn blaring at any who dared to attempt to cross in front of him. huffing and cursing at his radio, he took the turns throughout the narrow and wide dark city streets, alike, on a dime, wheels skidding in the rain; later on, he'd swear he drove to some degree on two wheels alone. and it was a wonder that none of the police zipped in behind him, lights flashing and siren blaring, for if they did, the german certainly wouldn't have made it to the hospital on time to witness the birth of his only daughter and the death of his beloved wife. but, he made it. finding a parking spot easily at the hospital, and running through the front doors, not even allowing himself to pause as he glanced at the sign, and veering to the right towards the maternity ward. his shoes squeaked the entire length of the hallway, providing him with little grip on the linoleum flooring as he raced up the stairwell, taking the corners almost as sharply as he had in his car moments ago; once, a firm grip on the banister was required as his feet had slipped right out from beneath him. he'd gotten the call over fifteen minutes ago, that his wife had been taken into the maternity ward, in labor. immediately, he'd dropped everything that he was doing (which meant he literally dropped the pot of soup he was cooking in his little restaurant), and rushed into the stormy night in an attempt to make it there on time. he succeeded with nothing to spare; the moment he pushed his way into the delivery room, the doctor placed a small baby girl into his arms, while the nurse pulled the sheets over the face of the mother.
lukas and lisbeth wolff were the kind of people who considered having a child was truly a miracle; both because of previous complications and because of their age. lukas was at the ripe old age of sixty-three when his daughter, whom he named lisbeth (after her mother), came into the world, completely silent, blue-eyed (forever to remain such), and blonde-haired. and his wife? she was fifty-six; she thought the doctors were joking when they told her she was expecting. she'd laughed, her arms crossed in front of her, and stated that they should be ashamed, leading a woman who was the same age as their mother on with such a joke. it wasn't a surprise to the physician when lisbeth wolff was declared dead the night lukas cradled evelyn in his arms. the little babe hardly knowing that the tears that fell down his cheeks were from sorrow, not joy, but somehow respecting the morbid silence of the empty, black room, as she clung to his finger, silently watching him from the bundle of pink blankets she was swaddled in. unlike most husbands in the same situation, lukas didn't blame his daughter for the death of his wife - consciously or non - but rather, treated the little girl as if she were the last gift that lisbeth had given her. she grew up on that phrase, listening to that phrase, and allowing that phrase to become such a second nature to her train of thought, that she'd answer with it, if she was caught unaware by questions, "What does your father think of you?"
contrary to the medical theories stating that evelyn would be different, considerably unable to keep up with her peers in school or on the playground, due to the fact that they thought she'd not gained enough oxygen during the delivery and simply because she didn't act like a normal baby, she excelled at her schoolwork and always managed to be one of the first picked for the recess football teams. brilliant, her father called her his little prodigy, ruffling her on her head as she steadily grew taller. her childhood was filled with studying - nights spent after school in the kitchen of his restaurant, sitting on a barstool at the cutting table, reading from her schoolbooks while he sliced and diced, ordering cooks about, and filled orders. the spices and sweet fragrances, along with the banging and unending clatter became the familiarity of home; the sweets given to her by cooks and lukas became her dinner; and the hard barstool, with it's one short leg that caused it to wobble to and fro became her bed as her education persisted. her creativity came alive in the kitchen; learning delicacies from her father, and attempting to recreate them on occasion for a paying customer - occasionally failing to the point where her lopsided meal became lopsided garbage.
for the same reason a single mother can lift a car off of her crying infant, lukas seemed to hold his youth for his daughter. while evelyn quickly grew from a child to a teenager, lukas remained the same - silver-haired, bushy-browed, lean and tall. his daughter became the spotlight in her little secondary school in hamburg; both socially and intellectually. she wasn't the most popular girl in the building, more-so in the middle than anything, but she was the most notable. if only because of her hair; gorgeous blonde curls fell down to her waist. most of which, she usually kept back by twisting it into a long, thick braid every morning. though, on occasion, she did let it fall around her - spindles of gold would brush over her brow, across her blue gaze, and down the front of her clothing, where it curled into thick, wavy locks. such a reminder of his lisbeth when she was young, lukas would laugh when evelyn would do something that her mother used to - such as use a spoon to smack his hand when he'd reach for a sugared violet, or another strawberry. academically, she became to interested in history; venturing out past her instructors to read what she pleased, using it later on whenever she felt it necessary. often reading her schoolbooks like they were an enchanting fairy-tale storybook, keeping her calculus notebook on her bedside table for some 'light' reading. and because of this, by the time she was sixteen, she'd already determined a career for herself. unfortunately for her father, it wasn't following in his footsteps as he had always wished she would… she decided on law; lukas supported her and spoiled her like he always had, raining praises down on her head and helping her study so late into the night at the restaurant, that most of his employees would leave the two sitting alone at the cutting board, while the rest of the building was locked up.
evelyn walked early - she finished her classes in december of 2007 - gaining her diploma with the highest honors in her school and getting a full paid scholarship to the university of oxford in england, among other offers from various other prestigious universities. excited, as any young woman would be, she mentioned off handedly to lukas that she'd like to celebrate - perhaps go to america and see broadway, the statue of liberty, and for once, be a tourist. and as any delighted father would do, he gave her two plane tickets - one to use to go, and one to use to return - his blessing, and the assurance that she could stay with some relatives who lived near new york. she looks back on that as one of the stupidest decisions she ever made - taking the trip to america. for her life was rather boring up until february of 2008. and she rather enjoyed boredom. if what occurred to her then after is considered exciting… to hell with it. the first few weeks were uneventful - she saw a play, she saw a statue, and she shopped. then the news became vague. politics and wars became second to medicine and the recommendation for any living in the manhattan area to stock up on canned foods and water. local news crews stopped airing world wide broadcasts, opting for a consistent screen flashing "DO NOT EXIT YOUR HOMES". businesses shut down. stores were locked. her aunt and uncle locked their apartment door, closed and locked the windows, jerking the drapes and curtains shut, and then, finally, boarded their door over with the cabinet doors, screws, and a hammer.
it was chaos. screaming began in the street when the sun set, weird clamors from above and below, and the final night she'd ever see her aunt and uncle alive, there was a strange pawing, scratching at their door. all three stood, watching the shadow play beneath the door. it was huge - resembling a dog - but, the scratching was obviously human… as if someone was on all fours, pawing in a silent plea to let them inside. and as quickly as it had started, it stopped, the shadow drifting away as it's source wondered on down the carpeted hallway, possibly in the hopes of finding someone who would assist it. evelyn never found out what it was that was at her door - though, after she finally did figure out what was going on, she figured it carried the virus that rampaged through apartment 21 B that evening. both her aunt and uncle fell ill shortly after the pawing creature, vomiting and bleeding… her uncle died. her aunt was less fortunate.
approximately an hour or so after her uncle breathed his last, her aunt became steadily better, though her appearance grew more ragged. it was as if evelyn was watching a fast forwarded tape of a cancer patient receiving chemotherapy; her hair fell out onto her pillowcase, her gums whitened, and her eyes became cloudy - almost as if she were in a dream-like state. the young blonde left the woman alone, shutting the bedroom door, and returned to the living room - she sat down and stared at the blank screen as if by sure will alone, something would pop up and explain the entire situation. determination didn't do her much good, though; it just kept her in the apartment complex, clutching a pillow on the couch, with her uncle's pistol by her side. within an hour, her aunt stumbled out of her bedroom, no longer human but something darker, demented, infected. it was animalistic, the way the elderly woman tipped her head back to sniff the air - as if she couldn't see her niece sitting on the couch in front of her - the way she closed her eyes as her nostrils flared, and her lips parted to reveal her teeth wrapped in flesh so white, they appeared yellow. it was in slow motion, when her head finally tipped to the side, her eyes opening and sliding towards evelyn. and before the woman could even move closer, the blonde had brought the gun up, taken aim, and fired. the shot echoed throughout the room, the squelch and thud of the bullet entering her aunt's skull seemed to deafen anything remotely considered background noise that evelyn could hear, and by instinct alone, she stayed clear of the mess that she'd made of her relative on the floor. deciding it was time to escape.
quickly, almost panic stricken, she'd raided the apartment for any form of ammunition she could find, pocketing every box of bullets she could scavenge into her pockets. she tugged on her best pair of boots, her long, black pea-coat, and slipped the pistol into her belt. she twisted her hair back into her usual braid, pulling on gloves, and finally slipping the hammer from the kitchen table, she started to pry the wood off the door. she caught most of it before it hit the hardwood, setting it down behind her silently, finally reaching the dead-bolt. hammer was pocketed, and her hands twisted the lock from the socket to the door in one fluid motion, and she jerked it open with ease. she half-expected to see something from the movies - people running down the hallway screaming, dogs and cats calling, begging to be set free from their owner's apartments… what met her was silence. there was no blood soaking the carpet, no sounds from the animals of her neighbors, no people crying, no children running… just silence. and so she walked out into the building that had become a prison, a death sentence to most of it's inhabiters, down the stairs (smart enough not to attempt the elevator), and out the front entrance of the building, through the foyer. she gripped the handle, holding it open, as she leaned out into the city streets, eyes glancing above at the nighttime sky. no moon in sight, no clouds, no sounds.
it was as if everything had stopped in the middle of the day. cars lined the highways - some with doors ajar - all with headlights and interior lights long since burnt out. her hand reached up to grip her mouth, more out of repulsion than anything, as her eyes saw the dark shapes of the dead laying on the pavement and concrete. all rotten and stinking - she gagged. she was lucky that night, learning very shortly after, that she shouldn't be a brave one and venture out after dark. she wandered around her portion of southern manhattan for a week before she finally found a place that she could officially call home. she made her roost in the quarters located above the firefighting vehicles of division of new york's finest fire brigade. she gutted out the dorms, pushing a few beds together to form one, she raided a local construction site, stealing a generator (by way of loading it onto one of her stolen trucks), tools and even a local book shop on instruction manuals. it took her about a month, but she finally managed to get it working and running, slipping in and out of local shops in and around a three block radius to gain supplies she needs. though, recently, she's been required to travel a touch further that she's ever had to before. and, whenever she can manage it, she'll carry a box of books back from the barnes and noble she nicked home maintenance for dummies.
FACT 001: she is actually not immune to the physical transmission of the virus. she’s only immune to the airborne strain of the z-virus. and, though she doesn’t know this for sure, her instinct tells her not to touch any of the dead creatures. the same type of instinct that tells small children that touching the stove is bad - they don’t know it’ll hurt, but they do have enough common sense not to try it.
FACT 002: evelyn has gone three years without any form of human contact. and, surprisingly, has held onto most of her sanity rather well. she was always a loner, which would have contributed to her ability to be alone without developing some disorder… that’s not to say that she doesn’t have her own twitches: she’s slightly OCD and has a heightened sense of paranoia. her overly optimistic mannerism probably kept her sane where most would’ve cracked.
FACT 003: the one thing she wants, if everything ever goes back to being truly normal (or even slightly so), is a fresh gala apple.
FACT 004: from various book stores throughout her few block radius that she’s been known to haunt, she’s managed to scavenge up several of the almanacs by nostradamus. she’s been using these in order to function - creating everything from mouthwash to toothpaste, all the way down to medications that she’s been unable to locate in pharmacies and hospitals throughout manhattan. she’s also been using his books in order to treat wounds and cook. she does, however, steer clear of his prophecies book. she has no intentions on reading about the end of the world.
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PLAYED-BY: scarlett johansson.
AIM: lis wolfff.
DISCLAIMER: i disclaim! and don't own anything. sans the icons/graphics! credit me if you use!
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