⋆┊. 𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 ---

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄:   sadie rowan balor winona natalie murdoch (adoptive name)

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄(𝐒):  sade, ro, dee, winnie, win, nona, widow

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄(𝐒):  winona

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄:  JUNE 14TH

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒:  9 pounds, 3 ounces   &  18.5 inches long  &  03:45 am

𝐀𝐆𝐄:  26 years old

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑:  female

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓:   unfinished shopping mall

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒:  she/her

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:  panromantic

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:  pansexual

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐒:  ella purnell

𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃: right-handed

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍:  poppy murdoch (deceased)

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌:  blackbird

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒:  worn and tattered notebooks, animal feet prints, the color blue, knives

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: accepting interactions / plots / etc

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 ---

winona grew up in some of the worst circumstances and environment. both of her parents were addicts and the most paternal and maternal love or affection that she had was from her siblings. her brother was the person that would protect them from outside forces and sometimes the shaky, almost interactions with their parents. her father disappeared from their lives when she was only 9 years old. this part of her life is mostly blurs of the past. some things she remembers, but questions whether it actually happened or something that she just imagined. something that her young mind had just thought of and went with.

her mother overdosed when she was a month away from her thirteenth birthday. she can't place everything that happened that day, but she remembers being pulled from her sister and crying in the back of some old car that she can't remember. what she does remember was how her mother looked before they had carted her off and to this day it is an image that positively haunts her and keeps her up some nights. she was put in the foster system with her sister, but they didn't remain together. she remembers the last look they shared, how she had tried to smile, how their fingers had slowly drifted apart. it was the last time she saw her.

winona was fostered a year later to ronald and maryjane murdoch. she was promptly renamed for the sake of their family, and she put no fight in keeping her name. what did she need it for anyway? she didn't have much, just a handful of belongings. she had a family picture that was tattered and worn, but she kept it well hidden. she had another keepsake from the balor portion of her life, a notebook that her sister and herself had written in, sometimes to each other and others just random notes about things. the third item, was something she'd stolen from her brother's room, one of his thick, worn blankets. it was not something glamourous or meaningful, but to anyone but her. it was something he'd wrapped her in a number of times. so, it had been dear to her alone.

she took to farm life like a fish took to water. she'd been used to struggling with her parents and relying on her older brother. farm life was a refreshing change of pace. there was schedules, organization and rules. most children would have abhorred the structure and control of such a situation. she thrived and blossomed under the confines that she was put in. structure was new, rules were important, and she felt a kind of peace that she had never felt before in her life. one night she'd cried, not out of sorrow or pain, but something infinitely more beautiful, happiness. she was happy and loved something she had only felt a fraction of before. she felt safe more than anything else and it made her happy.

she lived and prospered there for years. eventually there came a time when she would "age out" so to speak and they'd offered her something extraordinary. a choice. they didn't pressure or guilt her about the fact that they'd raised her or kept her. they'd simply given her an out, if she'd wanted it. and, she didn't. she'd realized sometime between sixteen and seventeen that she wasn't going to leave, she just hadn't said or acted on that knowledge. a month before her eighteenth birthday they'd given her another gift, a legal adoption. from that point on, she'd remained on the farm.

it was shortly after she turned nineteen where she met adam. they hadn't gotten along, exactly. he was different than her in a number of ways. he didn't like the rules, the structure, the schedules. he lived on another farm a fifteen-minute walk away. she knew that because he told her EVERY SINGLE TIME, he had to make that journey. she supposed that she kind of fell in love with him a little bit. she'd told herself that she wouldn't fall for it, the cheeky smile, the jokes and the outlandish way he would always try to get her to break the rules. eventually, she realized he loved her, too. always had, apparently.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

it was the day of her wedding to adam where her world went, as they say, to hell in a handbasket. the farm was for all intents and purposes safe from certain events that seemingly would come up, but not this. it spread like wildfire over the small town, and she was for all intents and purposes just a girl. let it not be said that ronnie murdoch was a weak man. he got a handful out of there before having to shoot his wife in the face. her own eyes had teared up, but ronnies hadn't. she'd known that look on his face, though, determination. he'd grieve her later, winnie had surmised. it was there that her love for her dad had tripled completely. not because of what he didn't do, but what he did.

eighteen people lived on the farm for the next few years. and everyone had their jobs and pulled their weight. her dad ran the farm settlement for a while until adam had to take over. it wasn't easy, but he finally succumbed to everything that happened. with his wife, with the world, he was too fractured. she caught him late one night, when she'd been helping agatha with the gates and alarms, he was talking to himself, yelling at something she couldn't see. the following week he'd turned two other survivors before they were taken out. then it was fifteen. it had hit winona real hard, it had been the last of her parents and now the farm was her responsibility. she had passed that onto adam and she'd pay for that a year later.

the farm was where she had felt safe and so she hadn't ever tried to leave before or after the outbreak. there was a part of her that was content on dying at the farm as well. she was almost twenty-four then before it happened, the thing she never expected, but should have. adam sold them out, literally. that was the funny thing, she'd rationalize later, that it wasn't the outbreak that destroyed the farm. it was people. she remembered the hard metal pressed to her head while they picked her farm clean of every resource. the inside and the outside. the animals, the crops, every ounce of anything she had ever loved. when they finished, they let them in. it wasn't enough that they had to strip her home, they had to destroy it.

she ran, silently as she could. she usually wasn't the one doing the thinking, the planning, she just cared for things. whether it was the animals or the survivors, she had just been nurturing. now, though, with them on their heels, she couldn't be. she would kill adam if she ever saw him again. feed him to them piece by piece, if nothing else, she swore that to herself. there was only four of them now, running for their lives. it was a long few months before she found the mall, with the two survivors with her.

𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺 ---

she doesn't use names, not your real one anyway. she will pick a nick name, a descriptor word. naming things gives them meaning and she doesn't want anything to mean anything again.

she has a way with animals and often times will get on with them much better than any human.

doesn't trust people because of her past and the man who she won't name, hasn't spoken his name in the two years that she'd been at the mall.

is just surviving at this point, doesn't have any big hopes or ideas or visions of how things will be when this is "all over"

hums songs she remembers when she'd doing butchering and preparing for trades of her merchandise.