Basic Appearance: Although Sarah Mason has never been what anyone will call a "beautiful girl", or even "exceptionally pretty", the aftermath of "Incident X" has rendered her a mere shade of her ex - self. The fact that was once a strong looking Irish girl with warm, chocolatey brown eyes, wavy auburn hair flecked with platinum, and a liberal dashing of freckles across her handsome, vibrant face is now more compared to the incredibly zombies your woman kills devoid of compunction. Too little of food leaves her precariously thin, every rib being noticed in obvious definition. Her eyes, uninteresting and lifeless, sink deep into their sockets beneath a forehead spoiled by get worried lines obtained to shortly. Her freckles, such a spot of take great pride in for Dorothy in days and nights past, right now stand unusually bright against chalk light skin drawn entirely to tight against her confront. Jagged scars of different sizes, matted, greasy hair, and baggy, unwell fitting apparel, usually scavanged from abandoned corpses and hastily washed in dirty water complete this grotesque picture.
Personality: On the whole, and in direct comparison to Sarah's physical appearance, her personality and general prospect has not changed much since the universe ended. In her not humble view, life was always a giant bag of shit... Digging in a few drag hungry corpses is of very little consequence. Sure, decent meals, personal cleanliness, and a secure spot to rest one's head is usually harder to research, but that had under no circumstances come without struggle for her. Yes, things are a lot more overtly violent, nevertheless this was something her pragmatic mind approved with ease. In danger? Threatened? You kill. Need something? You take that. Have anything someone else really wants to take? Guard it. Certainly preferable to the mindless violence, manipulation, avarice,...
... oncerned with their stash than all their life, on her way out. Your woman knew it absolutely was probably no less suited for children now than it ever was, yet also presumed that, chances are, enough from the morons may have croaked; Giving a fair amount of space available for the taking. Between that, and knowing the area like the back side of her hand, Sarah figured it was really their best taken.
As they travled, Sarah going work on what she considered her second order of business... Looking to convince the kid to speak. Dozens of weeks put in together, and she acquired yet to utter an individual word. She knew the kid could speak, having observed her say a few garbled words in her sleep. As much as Debbie appreciated the silence, palm signals and head mixtures simply probably would not work in the future. Knowing it absolutely was likely fear holding her tounge slave shackled, Sarah performed all she could to help make the Kid feel secure.