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#mood

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      going to the beach was nothing new for her. she was from the shore, after all, and had grown around it -- it felt natural that she would want the same for her child and, thankfully, jojo felt similarly. if one caught the scene ahead, of the little girl in a bathing suit running across the sand, her mother on her heels, one would hardly believe the apocalypse had broken the world recently. but that was her goal, wasn’t it? a healthy, common childhood. and if you look past how the girl’s mother’s eyes scan through the beach and through any suspecting mounds of sand, you can almost see just that.

    “she saw you from across the beach and just had to run all the way here to say hi.” teresa explains what certainly does not need explanation -- not when her daughter’s arms are already going around the carer’s neck. “i swear, whenever we come around, i get a taste of what might be for others trying to catch up with me.” which was not a complaint, as seen by the way the brunette grins as she joins the other on the sand for a well deserved moment of peace. or whatever one would call that when accompanied with an overexcited six year old. “did you want some quiet for once? i can try to....pull her away or something.”

the blonde was sitting on the bit of sand right outside the wharf, basking in the sunshine. she was beginning to suspect it might be the last show of sun for quite a long time and wanted to catch it while she could. that said, there was still a slight chill in the air that announced the presence of autumn. a shadow falling over where she was sat, delilah looked up, suddenly not alone. “oh, hey! did you need anything or would you like to sit?” she smiled.

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      there were very few things capable of whipping off a smile of teresa hendriksen’s face, and, though the number had grown ever since 2016, none of the petty things seemed as importantly oppressing as the mandatory scavenging trips. sure, she was mature enough to say she understood it’s need, but none of that diminished her distaste. on scavenging missions, the important thing was to get it over with, and get it over as soon as possible to get home alive. perhaps it’s this rawness and insensitivity that disturbs her, or simply the ever present fatal danger looming over someone out in the camp (she purposely likes to forget that the camp’s barricade walls aren’t a guarantee of its safety).

      she had been rather late to her shift, and while she had managed to get scat free to one of the neighborhoods assigned for the supply search, she had no subtlety or worry as she stepped in the porch and into the house. a wrong move by so many reasons, but the only one that seems pressing presents itself as a gun pointed to her head, and what is her reaction? nothing, if you don’t count how her eyes widen and her breath hitches as she raises her hands, pathetically.

      “was i panting that hard you mistook me for something else, alex?” she still has it in her to joke, even if her laugh is strained by the embarrassment, and the flat out shame over just how slow she was. teresa sucks in her bottom lip, dropping her trembling hands to her back -- her gun is underneath her shirt, on her waistband, and she doesn’t bother to pick it up, as she approaches the very familiar face. “you didn’t do any killing, and that’s what matters, dear. did you find any water? i think we could both use some about right now, no?”

it was safe to say that scavenging was amongst alex’s least favorite things to do, but sometimes he had to grow up, face his fears, get out there, and dig through junk for scraps. it was just the way of the world. 

he wasn’t far from the wharf in a building that had seemed pretty quiet. there wasn’t much, of course, but he shoved bits of plastic and metal in his bag regardless to use for different things at camp. he froze when he heard footsteps enter the house, immediately reaching for his rifle. he turned around, crept silently towards the front room, lifted the gun, and-

“what the fuck are you doing? i could’ve killed you,” he snapped, heart exploding when he saw what- who- it was.

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( ana de armas + cis female + she/her ) — there’s a rumor running around about a survivor called TERESA HENDRIKSEN, NEE MACHADO. they are said to be thirty one years old, from havana, cuba, and have been labeled the maven. fitting, considering that they are reported to be relentless + intelligent, as well as bemused + anxious. they reside in fisherman’s wharf and are a healer. apparently they are a bisexual + gemini. fidgety fingers & stacks of research.

name: teresa rafaela hendriksen (nee machado)

nicknames: tessa, tete, terezita, t. she loves them all and is not picky, becoming a fan of even mean ones.

age: thirty one

orientation: bi (romantic and sexual)

languages spoken: spanish (native, mother’s tongue), english (native, first language)

origin and location: havana, cuba; later miami, and prior to the virus, washington. currently, the fisherman's warf camp

occupation: phd student of biochemistry & researching staff at the university of washington; currently, a healer at the camp. 

family: jose ricardo machado (father, unknown state), luciana aguillar (mother, deceased), bram hendriksen (husband, alive), josephine amalia hendriksen (6 year old daughter, alive).

personality type: enfp-t (the campaigner)

hair color: dark brown. she was blonde for quite a while, but it became a hassle after a few months in the epidemic. it stands above her breasts, flatly, with bangs above her eyebrows to match.

eye color: hazel, of the shades of golden and green.

height: 166cm

her father was the first of them in the US. like many cubans post revolution, he came in with the operacion pedro pan, still as a child. he only returned to cuba when he was grown, under the US navy. there, josé met luciana, and not with much delay, teresa was born.

truth to be told, she doesn’t remember cuba all that well. she was about two when they managed to save enough to get to miami, so that’s where she grew. life by the beach had always been a constant in her life, and teresa was the most excited toddler when the marines officers’ ship came to bay.

( TW: PARENTAL DEATH) the childish excitement was never put to rest. the characteristic would become a defining trait to teresa, much to the chagrin of some, and the delight of others -- but for her, it was a way of survival. the blind optimism and bubbliness was what kept her going through the long days of wait with no word from her father, or the life with a immigrant mother and little means & it was what kept them all going through her mother's sudden illness and demise.

she was still fairly young when her mother died, so her father had to apply for a transfer. america had changed, he had changed, but he had a young daughter and they needed to be there for each other. there was a lot to adapt, but they made do. teresa would go from school to work, from work to home, get her share of housework done and take some time with her dad. on the remaining time, she buried herself in her school work -- it was the only way out, she had always been told.

turns out she had a knack for it. while girls her age dived in parties and boys, she was the last of labs during college, but her name was the first in every internship and fellowships. her mother's illness was the instigator to her curiosity, which had always ran high, and stimulated her to the field. she had a biology and a biochemistry degree by the age of 23, and, when she was 29, was gunning for a spot in the washington cdc facility. she was pretty high on the list too but DONT REMIND HER THAT. 

that was when all hell broke loose. there was no time to pack or think, and teresa relied heavily on her husband bram and on his instincts to get them and their daughter to safety. lbr she still relies on bram a lot bc ya know hes your broody post apocalyptic poster boy while she is this wide eyed enthusiastic scientist who stands at like 5'6. dont ask me how they still workin i dont fucking know!!!

she found some use for herself as a healer on the wharf, despite not having a medical background herself; she still was willing and very prompt, and her knack for research and laboratory work was a saving grace. she's easily found on the medical building (tent? space???idk), but she's helpful and will double as any profession and be anywhere someone is needed.

tbh, restless. can't shut down wont shut down, catch her up at 5 in the morning running on 2 hours of sleep and enthusiastically greeting every single camper by name. she looves the wharf, loves being by the beach and she considers every single person her family and bc of that she will be that nosy mom friend that cant shut up. she has always been pretty bubbly and on the edge, and even without coffee, she has managed to keep that up by running on sheet anxiety! fun!

the personification of michael in that the good place episode when he finds out about death

extra:

though hesitant and very anti violence (deadass laughed about when would she need to use a gun to her husband prior 2016) she does know her way around survival. she hates getting out of thr camp but is always well packed with a mace, some surgery knifes and a gun, which is her preferred method of putting down walkers bc it's what damages the brain the least (and she needs those to study). catch her being that crazy scientist who begs fellow survivors to be careful with the "infected species". 

(TW: ANXIETY, SELF HARM) like many others, unhealthily copes with her anxiety. (non) sleeping pattern already mentioned, she is also always carrying something to twiddle with, squeeze and, on bad days, she snaps a elastic band around her wrist. as of late she is getting a lot of bruises bc of that so if ya game, hold her hand instead

has like....no boundaries. is always calling people to visit and inviting herself into people's lives and acting like a mother hen. also probably likes to ask people for blood tests bc she's a god damn weirdo that won't rest until there's some sort of vaccine

while she is not in a proper leadership position in her camp, she is somewhat outspoken about her beliefs and what is good for the camp and she is very big on education. it has always been quoted as "a way out" for her so that's what she keeps repeating, even in a dead world (dont tell her it's dead)

she has not been in contact with her dad for over 6 months so that's an Extra Source of Stress right now, and a reason she tries to take peeks at the beach and at new survivors whenever possible

Listen i wrote this Twice (bc my browser is shit) so dont judge this bad intro so badly and pls plot with me and this crazy sunshine like b! thanks!! 

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ana_d_armas: Havana dreams.

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You talk too much. Always have. You have to talk to make sure you’re alive.

Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit And Three Other Plays 

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tag dump!

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