KERRICK, Zee

[Zee Kerrick]

[app]Zee Fiona Kerrick[/app]

[app]Full Name:[/app] Mackenzie Jessica Pritchard
[app]Preferred Nickname/Alias:[/app] Lindsay Kerrick is actually an alias. Her real name is Mackenzie Pritchard, and she's considerably younger than any of her IDs show.
[app]Gender:[/app] Female
[app]Age:[/app] It says 21 on her current license, so that must be true
[app]Sexual Orientation:[/app] Omnivore
[app]Member Group:[/app] Hunter
[app]Canon or Original:[/app] Original

For somebody whose job is combat, Zee's kind of retardedly little. She's not a midget or anything, maybe 5'1" and 90 pounds, but compared to a vampire that's awfully scrawny. She wears her black hair long and straight, with a thick fringe of bangs, and paints thick lines of kohl around pale blue eyes. She wears slightly punky/gothy clothes most of the time, but when she's working it's fatigues and weaponry, lots of it.

Somewhat surprisingly, she only has one tattoo, an antipossession symbol on the left side of her lower abdomen, just over the pubic bone. But her piercings rotate regularly, and she's known to dye colored streaks into her hair at the slightest provocation.

[app]Face Claim:[/app] Ksenia Solo

[app]Likes:[/app]

• The Challenger
  
• Her Hi-Power
  
• Fried chicken
  
• Doughnuts
  
• Iced lattes
  
• Vodka, maybe a little too much.
  
• Corsets
  
• Black eye makeup
  
• Piercings
  
• Vampire novels, the more ridiculous the better. Except Twilight. But everything else.

[app]Dislikes:[/app]

• Demons.
  
• Being trapped
  
• Sleeping in the dark
  
• Rare meat
  
• Getting attached
  
• Boredom
  
• What a hassle it is to get good fake IDs.
  
• Reality TV
  
• Driving slow
  
• Chick music

[app]Strengths:[/app]

• Incredibly knowledgeable about demon lore and, as a side effect, a fair expert in angelic/Enochian lore
  
• Extremely intelligent, more so than she knows
  
• Thinks quickly in combat and makes good strategic and tactical decisions.
  
• Sleeps very little, but keeps up the energy because she's young and highly-caffeinated.
  
• Good contacts with hunters and fixers across the U.S.

[app]Weaknesses:[/app]

• Young, her judgment fails sometimes.
  
• Her hatred and fear of demons can make her both erratic and overfocused during hunts.
  
• Avoids hand to hand combat because she's really bad at it.
  
• Emotionally isolated
  
• On the run from her parents and family.

[app]Fears:[/app]

• Demons
  
• Sleep

[app]Secrets:[/app]

• Has night terrors, that's why she sleeps so little.
  
• She's still grieving Paul fiercely and desperately.
  
• She's actually still several months away from her eighteenth birthday.

[app]Habits and Quirks:[/app]

• Chain-smokes Marlboro Light 100s
  
• Obsessive about keeping the Challenger in perfect condition
  
• Touches up her roots once a week.
  
• Bites her nails even though she paints that bitter tasting stuff on them.

[app]Overall Personality:[/app]

Confident, outgoing, sarcastic and cheerful, if Zee has ever heard of shyness she figures it's something that happens to other people. She hurtles through life with her hands outstretched, grabbing for everything she wants. Mouthy by nature, she is respectful to other hunters (at least, some of them) by training but no one and nothing else gets deference. She's an endless bundle of questions and want, childlike tenderness wrapped up in a dangerous bristle of gutter ferocity.

Too feral to be cute, too pretty to be frightening, too young to be beautiful, too loud to be passed over. 5'1" or so but possibly not done growing, Zee is all bony elbows and thick black bangs and huge spooky light blue eyes that could stop men in their tracks. Dressed in a style that might best be called 'High-end Guttersnipe', she stalks through the world like it owes her something and she means to collect.

[app]Family:[/app]

• Father: Gerald Pritchard - Alive, Estranged
  
• Mother: Lucinda Pritchard - Alive, Estranged
  
• Sister: Deborah Pritchard - Alive, Estranged
  
• Brother: Peter Pritchard - Alive, Estranged

[app]Overall History:[/app]

There was nothing in Zee's upbringing that should have led her to hunting. She grew up in a nice suburb of Couer d'Alene, her mother is an elementary school principal, her father is assistant editor of the Couer d'Alene Press. She had to share a room with her little sister, she took ballet lessons from when she was four years old up through high school. She was a cheerleader all through junior high and was fully expecting to make the JV Cheer Squad when she got to high school.

But sometimes things change on you. Sometimes horrible things happen to people and there's not really a good reason for it. See, Mackenzie's eighth grade Geometry teacher, Mr. Lowell, had a bad habit. And that bad habit was that he watched the girls maybe a little more attentively than he should. He liked them blonde (Zee doesn't look like it now, but when she was thirteen she was a blonde, blue-eyed American Princess) and petite, the smaller the better and the shamed fantasies he harbored late at night were dark, twisted with his own self-loathing. Still, looking and thinking isn't the same as touching, and chances are he would have lived out his life without ever reaching for what he shouldn't touch if he hadn't caught the attention of a demon who thought it would be funny to corrupt a good man.

Mackenzie was awake, aware when the creature who wore her body like a suit seduced the paunchy, balding teacher. She'd been a virgin, but the demon inside her knew all sorts of dark pleasures and introduced Dan Lowell to them one after another. Helpless, powerless, unable to stop watching, Mackenzie lived every moment of the sick, obsessive relationship between the demon and the now-perverse man who'd once been her favorite teacher.

Chances are that eventually the demon would have moved on, but eleven months after the creature possessed Mackenzie's body a hunter named Paul Kerrick showed up seemingly out of nowhere, battled the demon back into a devil's trap and then exorcized it. He actually looked a little surprised when Mackenzie survived the process. He was even more surprised when he left town eighteen hours later with the teenaged girl planted firmly in the passenger seat of his vintage Challenger.

She had to go with him. She couldn't go back to her life, couldn't pretend it hadn't happened and just move on. And she couldn't help resenting her family and friends for never noticing what had been going on for the past year.

Paul had no desire for a protege, he'd never looked to take on an apprentice, much less one who was young enough to be his daughter. But Zee (she dropped the name Mackenzie at the Idaho border, never to answer to it again) could always talk him around. Part native talent, part an understanding of human psychology that she'd learned from the demon but tempered with her own far sweeter nature.

They lived together, traveled together for three years. Paul claimed to be her uncle, but really he was Zee's teacher and savior and counselor and she was the first thing in twenty years to remind him just what he was supposed to be fighting for. That they eventually became lovers was largely incidental to the relationship, the sex was just an extension of the things they couldn't say in words.

A wendigo killed Paul late last year. He'd claimed that it was too dangerous to take her on the hunt, a declaration he made rarely enough that Zee actually listened to him when he did so. When he didn't come back by noon the next day she went off to the national park where he'd been planning to hunt. The Challenger was there, Paul wasn't. It took Zee five days to track the wendigo, she burned it out of its cave and then climbed into her Challenger and took off.

Zee's still grieving Paul, of course she is. She still grieves her family too, never mind that she refuses utterly to contact them. But Paul taught her how to fight, how to hunt, and how to survive and Zee intends to do all three.

[app]Member Title:[/app] not your sweetheart

[app]Roleplaying Sample:[/app]

Zee followed the directions she'd been given to the church, parking out front and grabbing a small exercise bag out of the back seat. She didn't even try to head into the church, that was nothing but trouble. Instead she went around to the side, finding a spot in the gardens where she had good coverage from all sides. The Catholics consecrated the entire plot on which a church stood, she didn't need to be in the graveyard or chapel. Made life a lot easier, too. You know how priests are, one little pagan rite being enacted in their churches and they get all hysterical.

The rite itself was simple enough. Zee spread a city map that she'd bought at a gas station out on the ground, set a candle in a glass holder in each corner and lit them with her Zippo. Out of the small duffel bag she carried came a ziplok baggie of a mixture she'd made earlier in the day. St. John's Wort for clarity, sage for cleansing, salt for purity, borage for good intentions. She used the hunting knife on her hip to nick the side of her wrist, a drop into the melting beeswax of each candle. (Zee used Yahrzeit candles for nearly all spellcasting, they were made of purified and sanctified ingredients, came in their own candleholders, and were cheap and readily available anywhere. Her personal faith in God was profound but ill-defined, and while she leaned toward Christian beliefs largely because her parents had brought her up Episcopalian, she believed squarely that holiness from any religion was equally valid.) As the blood mixed with the melted wax and was drawn up into the wick of each candle, Zee dropped a pinch of her ground-together herbs and salt into each candle. The flames started to sputter and spark as she murmured a brief incantation in Greek, a language she didn't actually know but had learned to reproduce phonetically, and then squeezed another drop of blood out over the map.

A small wind kicked up out of nowhere, swirling the smoke and sparks around the falling blood drop, and it sort of....leaned off to one side, falling to the map a good six inches away from where gravity would dictate it should have landed. "There's where the demon is." Zee sounded vindicated as she blew out the candles and slapped an Iron Man bandaid from her bag over the small cut on her wrist. "So...where the hell is that?"

---

[app]Player Name:[/app] Briar
[app]Player Age:[/app] Ancient
[app]Years Roleplaying:[/app] Possibly longer than you've been alive
[app]Where You Found Us:[/app] Following Devi
[app]Other Characters:[/app] Castiel, Ed Zeddmore, Adam Milligan, Norah Byron, Jophiel
[app]Favorite Supernatural Episode:[/app] Swan Song
[app]Favorite Supernatural Character:[/app] Still Castiel

[Devi B.]