name: lydia whitmore
age: 22
role: the zealot
face claims: diana silvers
starry-eyed fool. the pop of bubblegum. standing through the sunroof, arms raised. head rushes. driving too fast down a too short road. constant change. color-streaked hair. a slight ego. tenacious. fervid and messy kisses. rose-colored cheeks. never backing down from a challenge — not because you can’t but you won’t. fleeting feelings.
you were born into privilege, and it’s a funny thing, too. unlike most, you would have gladly thrown it away in a heartbeat. you craved adventure, you craved excitement. the hoity-toity nature of your parents never settled well on your shoulders. you chafed in nice dress and high society events — of course, you could wear them with ease, if need-be ( smiles and charm and good-naturedness came easily to you ) — but really you’d rather be elsewhere. you found that elsewhere in tight alleys and dark streets. the thrill of races and the rush of adrenaline you felt being involved in something so dangerous was appealing. you found yourself a part in it all. you’re not sure if it was because you were hanging around so much or if there was actual value seen within you — either way, you’ll take it, no question.
the heart → some of the others in the crew find you annoying. they haven’t said that to your face, but you know it’s true. you’ve always been able to read how people feel about you. on the bright side, the heart seems to like you well enough. they let you prattle on about whatever’s on your mind — whether that’s cars or the legacy or, well, anything. you appreciate that. they also are helping you out. where the others don’t have much time for you, the heart actively seeks you out. they’re nice and offer guidance. you appreciate them more than words can say.
the medic, the tagalong → when you were told you were going to be helping the medic, your heart sank. of course, there’s nothing wrong with helping people, but you’d’ve rather been helping the mechanic, if anyone, to at least be around cars. you’re jealous of the babydoll minding races. you’re jealous of the legacy and the rookie getting to drive. you want to be doing more. instead, you’re stuck playing mock-doctor. at least the tagalong is good conversation when you can get them to talk. they also pick up your slack, so you’re not going to complain.
the legacy → you like them. it’s as simple as that. it’s written across your face and it undertones your words. how could you not? they’re cocky and confident, and honestly it’s sort of hot. you make sure you’re near them when you can be. you just want to talk to them and be near them. you hope they like you back. you’ve been getting some mixed signals from them, so you’re not really sure. maybe it’s going to take some time for them to feel the same way. you’re content with waiting.
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