Zoe Washburne

[Zoe Washburne]

ZOE ALLEYNE WASHBURNE

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CORTEX RECORDS INCOMING....

Name: Zoe Alleyne Washburne
Homeworld: Vesselside – aka, on a transport ship.
Birthdate: February 15, 2484
Current Age:
Gender: Female
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 140 lbs.
Alignment: Independent / Browncoat
Rank: Executive Officer / Corporal
Ship: Serenity
Position: First Mate

Flags: Lying to Alliance agents. Obstruction of justice. Carrying unlicensed weaponry. Breaking of postal code 359: transportation of a corpse through post.

Suspicion of: smuggling, transporting with an expired license, evading arrest, assault and battery, assault with a deadly weapon, murder, theft of alliance goods, grand theft of alliance goods, harboring fugitives, aiding and abetting fugitives, resisting arrest.

Personnel Records (History): Born ship side, Zoe never knew what it was to have one ‘place’ as home – rather for her, home has always been wherever she was, and wherever her family was. In her earlier years this was her father and mother, and two older, and later, a younger sister. Her parents served as crew on the ship that they were stationed on – nothing fancy, a cargo hauler that handled mass transports of supplies along the outer edges of the verse. Her life wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible, and it was all that she knew. Food was scarce, clothes were second hand, and they worked hard for all that they got – earn what you wanted, work for what you got, it was the credo that she was raised by. While all the folks she was surrounded by may not have been the most honest sorts, it taught her a few other things; how to spot a con, when someone was lying, and that while living fair and square might be the preferable way to do it, there was never anybody guaranteeing the other party was going to feel the same or live by any code of honor similar to her own. She learned to anticipate trouble from an early age and that protecting people she cared about was an important part of her life from the same – and that they’d do the same for her counted for a lot too.

Growing up like she did, with the life of a drifter and seeing the outside worlds for what they were, it didn’t take much for her to realize that there were those that had, and those that struggled to have, and while she wasn’t necessarily one to hold a grudge against those that did, she came to think real quick that everybody ought to have the same fair shake at trying to have – and the border worlds, the rim worlds, they were struggling to eat dust while even the most meager of Alliance worlds had things that they considered ‘necessities’ that most of her folk would’ve considered luxuries. Added to that the things like taxation, and regulations for cargo and transports and fees for ship licenses and the infringements onto how the border worlds could rule themselves – it didn’t take much to convince her to trade her low slung rifle and her worker’s gloves for what passed for a uniform and a bigger, faster gun in the name of the Independence. She believed in the cause, and she believed in the people.

The training was good for her, honing what skills she’d patchworked together over the years, and she took to the combat like a proverbial fish to water. She was comfortable there, her cool head keeping her in control of herself in situations where others were not quite as fortunate, and it didn’t take her long to work her way to the rank of Corporal in the division that she was in. While she and her officers might not’ve always seen eye to eye, she obeyed their directives, though she tended to find it easier to work with those that were more of immediate like minds, such as the man, Malcolm Reynolds, who was (while undoubtedly one of the more erratic members of the squad) one of the most passionate and inspiring people that she’d served with. His tactics weren’t her favorite, but he kept people alive, and over the months that they spent together, the fights they survived and the boundaries they pushed to stay alive and hold their ground, they formed a bond that would survive anything – even the devastating undercutting blow of the revelation that they had been cut off… and abandoned, that after all the fighting and all the dying, and all the pain, the Independence had folded, relinquishing the claims they’d bled to protect.

The betrayal stung, the days waiting for rescue as she and Mal took cover among the bodies of their comrades and compatriots stung worse – while the war had taken its toll on her, the last revelation of it hardened her more than the rest. Finding what to do with herself after the war proved harder than she would of preferred to admit. She’d seen too much and fought too hard to go back to scraping by moving crates or playing a gunhand to someone else’s better judgment, and she had a restlessness in her that wasn’t ready to even consider the idea of turning to a planetside ordeal or job for reconciling herself to for the rest of her natural days. When Mal came to her, and dragged her off to see the heap of metal and wires that he called a ship, she was reluctant to say the least, and more than a little wary about letting him invest all that he had left into something that she wasn’t sure was going to get up off the ground – especially after meeting the fellow he’d picked out for mechanic, and even more so when she’d met the man he’d chosen to fly the so-called ship.

In the end though, she gave in, half out of concern that he’d get himself killed otherwise, half cause she couldn’t imagine anyone else she’d trust to follow like she’d trust him. A number of things’ve changed for her since that day – she found herself married, something she’d never quite managed picturing herself in, and to the pilot that ‘just bugged her’ no less. She’s racked up a few more flags in persons of interests along the way, though somehow she’s managed to scrape through without ending up in irons. She’s made a new family, and new friends, even the fugitives that she’s convinced will still bring nothing but trouble, but they’ve made their way into the fold. Things haven’t exactly been smooth these last few years, and she doesn’t see it much changing, but then – who knows, life might try something different, just to shake things up.

Psychological Review (Personality): Despite whatever the situation at hand might be, there is a level-headedness that Zoe carries about her that has gotten her through more scrapes than she cares to remember. While Kaylee might be the heart of the ship, and Mal the passion of it, it is most definitely Zoe that is the brains of the ship – she’s the one that sees all the sides of the situation and uses that to anticipate the trouble before it starts shooting at them. She’s also the one that tends to step in and say what needs to be said to try and cool down tempers or let wiser heads prevail – though this is no way shape or form prevents her from letting off her own one-liner quips when someone has annoyed her, or irritated her. Usually enough, that’s Mal – while she respects him and follows his orders after he’s settled on them, that doesn’t stop her from speaking her mind or letting him know that she disagrees with him, or that she thinks he’s an idiot, when he deserves it.

The same goes for the others on the ship, though while she might come across as something of a general hard-ass for her warrior woman attitude, she has something of a softer side. She likes lotions, scented perfumes, and hot baths, the occasional slinky dress – when, and if, the occasion presents itself and there’s not something more practical or important that that money is needed for. She has a wry sense of humor, and while she may not be the ‘homemaker’ type, she still likes taking care of her husband when she can, and she loves the fact that he knows that she isn’t the type to generally tend to such things – that he loves her for who she is, even when they do argue and bicker, and that in the end he can hold her and make her smile. She is something of a realist, the pragmatist of the bunch, though, and sometimes it falls on her to say what no one else wants to say – something she doesn’t always like, but then, she’s learned to do what’s gotta be done. Counting on somebody else to do it for you just means you never know if it’s gonna get done.

Likes / Favorites:

*Apples
*Her crew / family
*Humor (when it matches hers)
*Being armed
*Straight dealings

Dislikes / Hates:

*Taking on passengers
*the Alliance
*Invasion of Privacy
*Niska, et al.
*Mustaches

Personal Quote:

It took her all of about three seconds to figure what it was that had stirred her from her slumber. The bed, complete with tangled sheets and throw blanket was missing one very vital thing – her husband. A quick scan of the room revealed that he wasn’t simply making use of the utilities, and with his shoes gone from his side of the bed, it was clear that he hadn’t had any intention of immediately coming back. Her brow furrowed a bit, as she stretched outwards, working the last residual kinks from the muscles in her body, as she stared at the empty pillow beside her, her hand resting on the spot where his cheek would’ve been. She would have expected to have heard him, when he rustled awake and made his way out, but then again… they’d danced fairly well the night before. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she checked the chronometer – the same night, she realized. It was the middle of what should have been their sleep cycle. She wondered what had disturbed him. If it had been a ship’s alarm, no matter how soundly she’d been sleeping it would’ve stirred her from her sleep, she reckoned. Maybe an attack of the midnight munchies, she mused, rolling over onto her back, her eyes staring up at the cool gray ceiling above her, her hand resting on her stomach absent mindedly trailing across the wrinkled in the sheet across her navel. Come to think of it, she could do with something her own self, and it wasn’t likely she’d be able to fall back asleep without at least making sure the ship was secure at this point anyhow.

Tossing the sheet back off of her, she rolled up and to her feet with ease, and it took only a minute or so for her to drag on her clothes, and boots, the gun belt wrapped around her waist and strapped to her thigh as a force of habit. It wouldn’t matter if she was only up and about for a few minutes or a few days, she’d learned long ago that there was no way to anticipate what might happen and being caught unprepared was the fastest way there was to end up dead, or to get somebody else killed. Hauling herself up the ladder out of the crew quarters, and popping open the door to the hallway, she pulled herself into the hall, her hands rising to tie off the unruly strands and latch them into a ponytail at the nape of her neck with a leather thong. Passing on to the kitchen wasn’t much of an effort, the good thing about a ship like Serenity is that one side to the other didn’t take much more than a half exerted sprint. The kitchen was void, though, only the scent of fresh brewed tea indicating anybody at all had been in it near recently enough to worry over. That left, pretty much, only one other place to look.

Fetching a bottle of recycled water from one of the latched cupboards, she made her way back, cracking the lid and raising it to her lips, taking a sip of the liquid even as she strode up the steps to the catwalk that would lead to the cockpit, and as she suspected, the familiar sight of the back of her husband’s blonde-covered head. She slipped up to him, her hand sliding along his shoulder, even as she ducked down, a low murmured greeting escaping against his cheek. ”Well, hello there, sailor,” she offered, with a chuckle and a small smirk as she pulled back, settling her weight against the edge of a blank console, one long leg crossing over the other at the ankle. She took another sip of the water, before offering it out to him, her dark gaze wandering over him and his features, trying to take a minute to get a feel of his particular mood. ”Everything all right?” she questioned sedately, not wanting to push if he didn’t particularly feel like talking about it, whatever it was, but that wasn’t to say that she wasn’t exactly curious about what’d dragged him outta their bed in the middle of the night.

***History and Personality do not have to be overly long during the duration that the site is mostly invitation only; just enough to give the basic grasp of the character.[/justify]