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Sun Jul 12th, 2015 @ 3:54pm

Unawakened Bethany Davies

Name Bethany Marie Davies

Position Student

Rank Unawakened

Character Information

Gender Female
Age 16

Physical Appearance

Height 5' 7"
Weight 125
Hair Color Brown with sun-bleached streaks and highlights
Eye Color Green
Physical Description Her makeup is not overly done, just enough black eyeliner and mascara to highlight the almond shape of her intense green eyes, a smoky eyeshadow, a powder base that works with her own sun-bronzed skin tone, and a touch of pink gloss to her full lips. The white babydoll shirt that she wears is thin, and just a hint revealing, showing nothing inappropriate while being low enough to spark the imagination. Blue jeans hug her well-honed body comfortably, showing off gentle, feminine curves, and are tucked into calf-high black leather boots with three gunmetal buckles running up the laced tongues. A black, mid-thigh length leather jacket that, while feminine, hangs just a bit loosely, draping over her shapely frame.

Family & Friends

Significant Other None
Children None
Father Jack Evan Davies
Mother Margaret Lynn Davies
Brother(s) Jacob (14, Mother: Naomi)
Tristan (12, Mother: Naomi) *Twin to Aileen
Darik (10, Mother: Erin)
Andrew (4, Mother: Allison)
Martin (2, Mother: Caryn)
Sister(s) Aileen (12, Mother: Naomi) *Twin to Tristan
Ella (11, Mother: Lana)
Malory (8, Mother: Sherry)
Mary (5, Mother: Allison)
Abigail (Infant: Mother: Allison)
Other Family She knows that they supposedly exist, but really knows little about them. Especially on her father’s side. She knows that her grandmother’s name on her mother's side was Elizabeth Morgan and that she was a stately, imperious woman the last time that her mother had seen her. And that she has an uncle named Robert Morgan.

Personality & Traits

General Overview Raised in an enclosed, fire and brimstone commune, Bethany learned the meaning of perseverance through adversity through a number of hard life lessons met out by her father. Even if she is a bit hard headed and a little temperamental, she has a good heart and an empathy with those that suffer. Not one to walk past an injustice quietly and pretend that she doesn't see it, instead she is quick to come to the aid of someone in need. She has an analytical mind and the bearing of a soldier, even at the age of sixteen.
Strengths & Weaknesses It could be said that her strengths and weaknesses lie along similar lines. She is a well trained soldier, brought up with a gun in her hand and one in her boot... and possibly one somewhere else on her body. She has spent her life learning, at her father’s side, how to create death and suffering, while at her mother’s knee she learned patience, compassion and a loving respect for the creation of the Creator. She cannot stand to witness injustice and will step in when it happens in front of her, which has lead her into some tough fights. She tends to be closed off on any deep, personal levels, but is curious and passionate about life and the giant world that she knows so very little about.

She is perceptive and disciplined and tends to study her surroundings.

Ignorant of modern sensibilities. The way that she was raised was odd at best and resembled very little of the world outside her surroundings.

Unfamiliar with most technology
Unfamiliar with literature and the arts
Unfamiliar with a lot of scientific theory... if it didn't support what was preached it wasn't taught

Ambitions Her ambitions are simple. Learn to live in the great big wide world that was kept from her for her entire life, and to put an end to her father’s tyranny, then rescue her mother and siblings from his grasp. She would very much like to be there when he goes down and is always planning and discarding ways that she could take the compound on her own. Not from any fool notion that it would be easier that way, but out of a concern for dragging anyone else into what would likely be a deadly standoff.
Hobbies & Interests Unarmed combat, armed combat, Ranged weaponry, bladed weaponry, demolition. Cooking, sewing, hiking, camping, agriculture... burning down corporate construction sites at the edge of town... (shhhh nobody knows it was her...)
Languages English, Latin, Greek and Hebrew

Personal History The Commune had been around since the mid sixties and while other communes had come and gone, the patch of land out in the Nevada desert that housed "The Commune" flourished. A group of like-minded, freedom loving farmers and ranchers had decided to separate themselves from the secular world and raise their families to be closer to God, not the trappings of the Earth. Ambrose Davies and his wife Elaine had been elected to lead the small community, and they had seen to the task with the love and tenacity that living off of the land required. Ambrose was the linchpin that held the group together and his wisdom had helped to cement their future just outside of Reno.

When his one and only son Jack was born in 1969, the community immediately began to see him as their future leader. So much so that when the charismatic young man went away to seminary, everyone in The Commune had pitched in to see to it that his tuition had been paid. He enjoyed four years of education on the backs of those at The Commune, excelling in his studies and honing a hidden, pathological need for control over and worship from others. When he returned to the 'family', he was not the same person that had gotten onto that bus years earlier. He was polished, he was educated, but he had become dangerous. He had also become obsessed with the end time prophecies.

It was at the small, cloistered Christian academy that Jack also met his future wife. A shy young woman that had been browbeaten by an overbearing mother her entire life, Margaret Morgan was the picture of a perfect Christian wife. She was kind and patient and easy prey for the charming sociopath that would become her husband and tormenter.

He needed a good wife to complete the image, and he wasted no effort in wooing her, much to the dismay of her family. When they married, her family would not attend and that only further served to isolate her into the life that her precious daughter would be born into in 1994.

With the death of Jack’s mother and father in a car accident that was quietly viewed as suspicious among the older, wiser members, Jack rose to the top through the manipulation of the younger generations. Drugs that were normally reserved for medical needs suddenly began to be used in quiet corners where their up and coming 'leader' would preach his twisted version of the Word, drawing the most vulnerable to him. More and more of the older generation left the Commune rather than watch the devastation of their dreams, until the only ones that were left were those that were completely dependent on Jack for their drugs, food, daily orders and 'spiritual preparations' for the end times.

Still they thrived, as Jack was no slouch when it came to running things with an iron fist, manipulating the others into what had become slave labor where they began to live for and serve the "Preacher", rather than strive to serve God or 'The Commune' as a whole. In two short years, they had gone from being a respected community of peaceful farmers and ranchers, to being known as a survivalist, separatist, extremist group that was always feverishly preparing for the coming end times.

Individual members had managed to draw the attention of law enforcement during their days at the Farmer's market, which had put them under some light scrutiny from the Feds, ever watchful for major firearms or drug violations. Somehow they managed to continue to hide behind the constitution and the law had never been able to make a case against them and shut them down.

When Bethany was born, her father's jealousy and demand for absolute control left her mother without medical care during the birth. She was attended by two young midwives that had very little training, and was lucky to survive the event. After a long infection and a couple of months in bed, she was finally allowed to see a doctor who delivered the news that Bethany would be her only child. Jack became infuriated and announced to the others that God had told him to take other wives, because the one that he had chosen was being punished.

His first born had been a little girl and it would be the only child that Margaret ever bore to him. He also included his closest, most loyal lieutenants in that order, and as a result many families were ripped apart so that the leaders could lay with the most desirable women in order to produce the best offspring. Two years later, the first of her half brothers was born to another woman named Naomi, who would go on to bear him a set of twins as well, before being pushed aside for a newer, younger, more eager model.

A year after her half brother Jacob had been born, a young woman had been beaten and driven from The Commune, never to return. Bethany had only been three years old when it had happened, but the shock and fear in the woman's startling blue eyes had been etched in her young mind. The blood was something that she'd seen before, as her father was not shy about bloodying her mother's nose, but there had been a lot of it and her face had been so swollen that Bethany had spilled tears of pain for the woman and suffered recurring nightmares for a couple of years as a result. The desperate look accompanied by agonized screams of physical pain and inner anguish were something that she would never forget. As a result, she tended to step between a bully and their victim without thinking, which had gained her a number of bumps, bruises and beatings along the way.

It had been the first time that she had heard the word "Mutant", along with a few other choice words that her dear mama had forbidden her to ever speak. In the following years, she was taught that they weren't mutants at all. They were demons straight from the pits of hell and they were held up as one of the proofs of her father's warped, hate filled teachings.

Jack had been bound and determined to continue to take his anger out on his wife. Margaret spent the better part of Bethany's childhood standing between her husband's drunken ire and her daughter. She doted on her only child and when she was old enough, Jack decided to do one more thing to hurt the wife that had failed him in his mind. He said that God had demanded of him that Bethany be trained as a warrior to fight in the coming war. That as his oldest, she was meant for a more honorable and bloody duty than simple housework and birthing babies. In all honesty, it had been an attempt to destroy the bond between mother and daughter.

He failed miserably.

Margaret Davies had always been the rock that Bethany strove to cling to and obey. She was kind and gentle, even in her disciplines, and just a disapproving look from her loving, weary face was enough to cause Bethany to burst into tears. She learned her daily and life lessons at her knee and enjoyed a level of patience that most children never do. She was her mother’s miracle and her mama was her continued blessing in an otherwise dark childhood.

Through her mom’s loving tutoring, she learned about being a good steward to the Divine Creator’s creation, taking what’s needed and giving thanks for the lives that the Lord set aside for their wellbeing. Bethany ended up developing a love for nature and a desire to be free outside of the electrified fences and away from the constant drumbeat of hatred and blood that she had been forced into. She had taken to sneaking away through dark spots that she had discovered in the defenses of the compound, which led to a number of beatings before her father finally grew tired of chasing her down.

Through what she had learned from her father, tempered by the wisdom of her mother, Bethany learned to despise the greed of the corporations that continually paved over the Earth’s habitats to build some new tower of corporate avarice where they worked their employees into early graves for a pittance of what they actually bring in. They not only destroyed the lands that the buildings sat on, they also suffocated acres around it for parking which only brought more destruction to the surrounding environment.

She also learned to hate the government for their lack of foresight and their political jockeying for fortune and power. Not one of the ‘servants of the people’, gave half a rip about what happened to those whose votes that they pandered for. They passed laws that protected themselves and their cronies, while continually diminishing the rights, health and wellbeing of those that they were supposed to represent. She firmly believed that they are all corrupt, you just have to follow the lines to find out just how filthy that they are.

When she was fourteen, during one of her father’s drunken stupors, she had managed to convince him that she was useful as a scout, a hunter and for foraging useful things. It had taken some convincing, but once she pointed out that she had been on a number of camping trips with the other ‘soldiers’, was good with animals and had sufficient knowledge to not bring back something poisonous, he finally relented. Probably more out of weary frustration than anything else. Either that or he didn't care if she actually died, after all it wasn't like he didn't have a litter of other children and it was made rather clear that he preferred her younger brother.

It was during that first, free outing that she began a ‘career’ as an amatuer eco-terrorist. During her past forays into the desert, Bethany had begun tracking the movements of some of the wildlife in the area. More and more often, she had come across some mark in the land that suggested that construction was going to be beginning on some project or another. And the more that she studied the surrounding habitat, the more that she realized that the prime spots for animal sustainment, were also apparently considered prime sites for resorts, expensive homes and golf courses.

On that particular night, she stumbled onto a partially started construction site while riding her atv across terrain that she wasn't used to. The sheer size of the site made her jaw drop. Gigantic earth movers sat on one corner of the fenced off property, while the foundation of some enormous room was just being caged in by large steel beams. The nearby springs had been surrounded by another fence, cutting off the one major water supply in the area that she could discern.

As each discovery was made, more anger built up in her chest and when she stumbled onto the broken, discarded carcass of a bobcat, Bethany dropped to her knees and gently touched the somewhat fresh corpse. It looked like the nursing mother had been shot a number of times and left outside of the construction site like some grim token of death, a warning to others that their ancient watering hole was now off limits to them.

It hadn’t taken her very long to find the cub that the mother could no longer care for, huddled, hungry and scared. After a bit of work, she managed to get him gathered up and into one of the cargo boxes on either side of the atv with some dried rations and water. She hid the atv in a nearby gully then returned to the site to bury the mother.

As she saw to the grim task through burning tears, a plan began forming in her mind and once she had finished with the strangely human ritual for the animal, Bethany had carefully made her way into the construction site. She had pulled on her waterproof leather poncho to keep the blood off of her, and she wrapped a plain handkerchief around her face then pulled the hood up over her head.

After years of forced training, the young woman was still surprised by how easily she had slipped into the role of hunter and avenger. She had no intent to hurt anyone, that would kill her mother, so she searched diligently to make sure that the site was deserted. It really made no sense to her that there were no guards stationed around the area, but then she considered it strange to not have a constant military like guard installed.

She moved silently and quickly, gathering explosives that had been poorly locked down in a trailer on the site. Using what she was taught about demolitions she calculculated an interior collapse and at the end of four hours, she had cut away the fencing around the watering hole using their own tools and had set a fire in the center of the partially built room.

She was three miles away when the explosions began and in the end, tacked to their huge, corporate “COMING SOON” sign that had somehow survived the inferno, was a letter that claimed responsibility. The dripping, blood red image of a bobcat paw print painted on a torn cement bag was glaring out from their declaration of corporate greed, with the uneven, dripping legend, “Not all animals live in the wild.”

That had not been her only foray into arson. While she never knew it, the media had dubbed the eco-terrorist offender, the “Animal Arsonist”, and while tips led them from one side of the state to the other, somehow, no one’s eyes ever settled on Bethany as a suspect.

She hid the cub from her father by simply keeping it under his nose. When he was home, he was normally drunk, so a little more noise in the shed that was in steady use by Bethany and her mother wasn't really a big deal. Jack never even knew that she had spent many nights stalking the desert with her charge, trying her mother’s concerned advice for teaching him how to survive on his own. While it had saddened her to see him go, after nearly two years, she was able to reintroduce him into the wild.

At the age of fifteen, after refusing to get her father another drink, he had flown into a rage and began beating her. Her mother stepped in and drew him away from Bethany, only to receive the beating that he had intended for his biggest disappointment in life. When she stopped moving, he stormed out of the house, leaving her mother wheezing and crying silently on the floor.

He didn't get help for her, as a matter of fact he didn't darken the doorstep of his own house for three weeks that he supposedly had spent, "In prayer." Bethany had taken on the task of nursing her mother's broken bones and open wounds, and with each passing day, each tear that stained her protector's face, a fierce hatred had begun to take hold. She began to plan her own father's gruesome death in a hundred different ways and when her father had finally returned home, she flew out of her room and snatched up the fully loaded house shotgun.

By the time she got to the kitchen, he was already at the table, downing another glass of home brewed beer and eating some of the leftover chicken that she had cooked for her wounded mother the night before. Clenching her teeth, she moved up behind him, as silent as the predator that he had trained her to be, and hooked a booted foot around the wobbly leg of the chair he had chosen. As he was pulled away from his food and drink, he looked up in confusion, only to see the image of his first born child putting a boot into his chest and knocking him and the chair over backwards.

In an instant the fear of death took him, when she racked the slide back and the shotgun was shoved roughly into the open 'O' of his jaw-dropped mouth, cracking teeth and bloodying his lips and gums. She said nothing for a moment, only breathed heavily and shoved the gun further into his mouth every time he so much as twitched.

When she finally did speak, it was with a feral snarl, "You only understand power and fear. I should kill you now and be done with it," again she shoved at the shotgun, causing the man on the ground to gag, "God told me to tell you to take up with your second wife, your first is no longer your concern."

When the anger rose up in the prone man's face and he began to bluster unintelligibly, she gave him a wicked grin and cocked back on the heavy hammer, "Give me one more excuse!" she growled, her finger twitching on the trigger.

"Bethany, don't stain your soul with your own father’s blood. He is still a creation of the Father," her mother's pained voice spoke from behind her, "Let him up.."

Bethany ground her teeth, tightening her grip on the shotgun, "He's as bad as the government and corporations that he hates. He deserves no fate less than what he plans for them..."

A touch of sadness crept into Margaret Davies’ voice, "This is what Jack would do, Bethany. I hope and pray that you are better than that."

Whatever she was about to retort with, stuck in the young woman’s throat and she took two sharp steps back, withdrawing the locked and loaded gun from Jack’s mouth roughly, "Get out. And if you make a fuss about this in the Commune, I WILL kill you. Just remember; you and your lieutenants taught me how..."

Her father had scrambled drunkenly out of the house, still in shock. As the days had passed, no one had confronted her and life moved on, perhaps a bit better than it had been. For the first time in her life, it was her father telling everyone that he had taken a bad fall and in that moment, she realized that bullies only had the power that people allowed them.

On the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Bethany awoke to a gentle knock on her bedroom door. In one corner of her room stood a sewing mannequin with a plain white dress hanging from it and she grimaced at the very symbology. For most girls, their ‘coming out’ celebration was something to look forward to but it was definitely not that for her.

On that day she symbologically stepped into womanhood and a whole long list of responsibilities to ‘The Commune’ to add to the already disturbing one. Which also included being ‘betrothed’ to the ugly little mean-spirited and quick tempered troll, Mark Hendricks. That alone made her stomach queasy.

As her mother entered the room with a smile on her face and a tray of breakfast in her hands, Bethany turned and gave the woman that had raised her a matching smile, only to watch Margaret go pale, falter and drop the tray, “No... no, no...” she whispered as she dropped to her knees and began picking up the broken dishes and scattered food.

“Mama?” Bethany asked, scrambling out of bed to see to her mother, “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

Looking up into her daughter’s eyes, tears streaking her face, Margaret whispered in a strained, choked voice, “You... you can’t stay here.”

The very real sorrow and pain in her mother’s eyes nearly broke her heart and tears started welling up in her own eyes, “Mama, what’s wrong?” she begged, only to have her mother haul her up by the shoulders with a surprising strength and turn her towards the small mirror that she had hanging on her wall.

Her hands leapt up to her mouth as if trying to stop the harsh, involuntary intake of air as she gasped at her own reflection. Bethany slowly reached up and touched the face just under startling bright green eyes that had been a dark chocolate brown every day of her life. Shaking her head she still couldn't bring herself to pull her eyes away from the horrifying vision that she had been awoken to.

The screams of the nameless woman from so many years ago sprang into her mind and began echoing there, and it took her mother clapping her hand over her mouth to make the young woman realize that her own screams had joined them. She had been forced to witness it since that time, but that one had haunted her dreams. Her eyes, so strange, so... alien.

“Bethany, you must go! You can’t stay here... they’ll kill you!” Margaret ordered sharply, breaking Bethany out of her terrorized stance. She began racing around the room, pulling open drawers, pulling on clothes, throwing extra clothing into her perpetually packed backpack. After a few minutes of panic and preparation, she stopped.

“You have to come with me. I can’t leave you here, mama,” Bethany urged her mom, grabbing her by the arms, “I’ll never forgive myself if they hurt you. Come on! We have to get your bag packed... the weapons...”

The fight or flight mechanism was severely warped in Bethany’s mind. In order to fly, one must survive, which often meant some kind of battle. Moving to the small table in one corner, she shoved it out of the way and knelt to pop up two loose boards that hid a miniature arsenal of small arms, ammunition, a sawed off shotgun, a rifle with a tactical scope and blades. All things that she’d stolen from out from under her father’s nose and hidden away just in case she ever needed them.

She stood from the hole, strapping on a tactical rig and looked to Margaret, who stood there shaking her head, “I despise what he has turned you into, Bethany. I’m so sorry...”

“This isn't your fault,” Bethany said, though in some ways, she did lay some of the blame on her, which instantly caused her gut to churn with guilt, “But we have to move. They will come for me in six hours and then what will happen to you?”

“I'm not going, Bethany. I don't know any other way of life,” Margaret answered, laying a gentle hand on her daughter’s face as she wept, “I will stay here and when they come for you, I will put on the act of my life. But no matter what happens, you will be free of this... nightmare.”

A look of stunned horror crossed the panicking girl’s face, “No, mama...” she whispered as a million horrible fates played across her mind, “I can't leave you here! Look, I don't know anything about that world out there! At least you were there once! Don't make me do this, please!”

“Shhh... calm yourself. You know how to adapt! If your father has taught you anything over these long years its that. Travel at night, don't let the days slip away from you. Head for Reno, they can help you there. And you can disappear there,” Margaret took hold of her daughter’s wringing hands in hers, slipping off the orange and silver ring that she had always worn and onto her daughter’s finger.

“This belonged to my mother, and hers before that. I was going to give it to you tonight at the celebration,” her mother told her with a sad, almost wistful smile, “One day, I expect you to pass it on to your eldest daughter. I love you. If you never know anything else in your life, know that.”

Kissing the girl quickly on the cheek, Margaret turned and fled the room. Moments later, she heard her bedroom door shut and through the walls she could hear her mother’s uncontrolled sobbing. She never said goodbye...

Casting about the room with a fury that she had no real way of understanding, Bethany caught hold of the closest, hateful thing that she could find. She tore the dress that they had worked so hard on into shreds, then sat down at the table to pen a simple letter, “I will NOT be forced to marry that toad! You will live to regret your choices in life and I only pray to the God that you have betrayed, that I am there to see it when it happens.”

After suiting up and packing some extra rations, the girl made her way silently across the brightening compound, and found, to her dismay, that the guard had been heightened along the fence line. Apparently her father had wanted to ensure that she didn’t take one of her two day vacations on that particular day. As she skulked in fading shadows, that panic began to work its way up her spine.

Stopping about halfway down the fence to the north, Bethany made sure that she hadn’t been spotted and pulled out two thick leather pads, laid one across the bottom string of the barbed wire and wrapped her arm in the other. Pulling the wires apart, she quickly shoved her bag and weapons through the gap, then dragged herself through it, somehow managing to not get fried by the high voltage current that she could hear buzzing through the line.

By the time that she made it to the small limestone cave that she had found a few years ago and turned into a small shelter filled with silly things that she had found out in the desert, the young woman was exhausted. She had used it as her place of refuge away from home and as the old rusted lamp came to life, the cave sparkled with bits of smooth, sand worn glass and small, rough gemstones that were tucked into small crevices. There was an old blanket spread across the cool, smooth stone and Bethany dragged herself to it, gathered it to her face and wept.

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