NAME: Amara M. Dubois
AGE: 36
OCCUPATIONS: Chef at the Rodex Diner, Community Shelter Owner
MARITAL STATUS: Single
⊂ MEDICAL⊃
Blood Type: AB-
HGT: 6'8, WGT: nunya business
HISTORY:
Amara has Waardenburg syndrome. Cause of natural heterochromia in eyes as well as permanent deafness in the left ear. Contacts are regularly worn to hide eyes but offer no visual aid. She regularly works out but is mindful of her body's intake. Her metabolism is unusually fast to an unhealthy degree, so Amara is often constantly eating some kind of small snack.
⊂ WEAPONS⊃
Carries 2 switchblades on her person, each with a decorative silver inlay. Gifts from a friend back in NYC
⊂ BACKGROUND⊃
Amara is from Brooklyn, NY, and while she lacks a wrap sheet to reflect this, the woman has been an underground street fighter for some time since her teenage years. The fights were often either fistfights or knife fights, and Amara is skilled in both to this day. She started learning to cook at a very young age and attended culinary school with no real issues. Once she graduated, Amara spent a great deal of time in hotel kitchens, diners, restaurants, and upscale bars. Her fighting skills often came in handy for dealing with rowdy or unruly patrons who overstayed their welcome. Amara was also very giving to her community and often donating time cooking in soup kitchens or assisted organizations related to food distributions.
Eventually, the city became too loud for Amara so she started to travel to other US cities to learn about the cuisine and cultures there, often staying for a year to three years at a given location. She's been to Atlanta, GA and Charlotte, NC in the south; worked for a time in Dallas, TX; cooked in Chicago, IL; and now has settled in Wailing Rock, WA.
Amara has two sides to her personality - calm, empathic, and reserved from just living through a lot of unique situations, and explosive rage. The latter is often only seen if Amara is deeply pushed to the edge of her patience or if she is getting ready to fight. Most of the time, Amara is soft-spoken and logical in her approach with people.
IC Journal Entry # 36: New Year, New Problems
There is a distinct unrest about the island that I can't place my finger on. Aside from the strange sight of seeing Aciago actually trying to work as a Councilman, it seems like at the sight of danger, more and more residents are opting to flee the island rather than wait to figure out the issue. In some cases, I am happy for it and in other cases, it's a bit painful as a loss.
IC Journal Entry # 30: Busiest Bee
Well, I've had some time to settle into this role as a city council member and the first thing I noticed was that few departments care to work together in the way they suggest. I certainly haven't seen my fellow council members since election. I see the administration staff more than them in fact.
I was able to hold an election dinner to talk voters and earn money for the shelter at the same time. We earned more than enough for funding the soup kitchens for the next few months, so I am thinking to put the extra money towards other funds that the city might need. Aside from jobs being plentiful and housing being a bit easier for people to own, what is left?
My other job is quiet. Perhaps that is a good thing as I am not a fan of conflict I don't need to involve myself in. However in the last few weeks, others have been reckless. Flagrantly reckless at that.
IC Journal Entry # 20: Remember this
So...October 14th. Not anything special or significant. I think some places still call it Columbus Day while others want to pretend anything Columbus did in his lifetime didn't happen. No, sorry. I am panic writing to clear my head.
Today was a revelation. Not one I'm sure I wanted to have.
After taking with some new and old friends at the cafe, I ran into Aciago by City Hall. What had been just me asking if he'd like to return to the shelter for a shower and some care turned into the old man pulling a gun on me and Alfie. I've had guns pointed at me before, and I will not pretend it isn't scary each and every time...but this felt particularly troubling because Aciago seemed scared of me. Of the dog. Of the grass. Anything that moved or spoke was some kind of fantastical danger that would threaten him with harm in the form of death by cooking, mauling, or soul-sucking. I was christened with the title of "Succubus" by him before I tried to wrestle the gun away. Easily done with a flail old man. He's just been in jail for being a menace. If he was seen with a weapon or worse, seen using a weapon, the cops would not be as casual. Yesterday was just a well to do misfit of schedules and balls and charities; today Aciago had crossed a line.
Unfortunately, the cops did see us wrestling and Aciago, once he got away from me, went right back for the gun. In front of the captain no less! That makes no sense. The old man has always been a coward. Never going too far to warrant people taking him as a true threat. Racing off drunk and stank to drive people crazy another day. But this...the cops couldn't ignore this. Even I knew the implications of this since it was in front of City Hall. Cameras were everywhere for a government building.
This campaign is already a mess and I just got into the Rat Race. I'd blame myself for Everything, but the truth is that all of this started because I asked Aciago to come back with me to get some aid for himself. Nothing more. Nothing to do with the campaign. I'm just going to clean up his hat and try to get the doll Alfie ran off with away from him. If Aciago's getting treated finally at the hospital, I will try to bring them to him then. Or give them to Dr. Lillian to pass on.
IC Journal Entry # 16: Fuck Mother Nature!
I. Am. Done.
If I ever see Smokey the Bear in the flesh, I am making him into a goddamned rug! I thought the curse on me was lifted, that some odd peace had been made with whatever force kept causing bad things to happen to me. But no! Wrath is still upon me for some damn reason! It's like the more I help people at the shelter, the more I am being punished.
Get a shelter = get a ticket
Save a person = almost lose a leg and my bike
Help three people = get lost in woods and fall off a ledge
I don't care WHAT you do to me, Nature! I'm not giving up this shelter!
I was just supposed to take a ride to the winery. Talk to the owners about two prospective applicants. Call a ride back to the shelter. That was it! Instead, I walk to a path I think leads to the road and suddenly, I'm walking in the fuckin' forest for HOURS! HOURS! WHY?!
And on a partially fractured foot no less, which I am sure is swelling right now because I put weight on it for so long!
I even walked back the way I came and suddenly there's a freakin' lake in front of me with this wise ass duck driving me crazy! I walked from the path to the vineyards. There was no lake there! I didn't even see a body of water on the way to the winery, so why was I looking at a lake?! It took me two hours but with the help of an umbrella and a switchblade, I showed that duck his place on the food chain at least! Bitch was delicious too with some red wine.
TO DO list:
□ Call Preacher
☑ Call Paranormal Squad
☑ Call Nausicaa the therapist
IC Journal Entry # 14: A night of weird things on the new moon
I remain uneasy after the police raid last night. They moved away tons of people passing by, and most of those people weren't there for the barrage of bullets that came out of the tunnel first. Those poor officers didn't stand a chance. I would have ended any concern there were it not for the fact that a bit later while I was moving the chickens...I saw a group of civilians in mostly black attire walk up. They were let through by the police and even allowed to head down into the same tunnels. No body armor. No drawn weapons. Nothing!
The cops were in full S.W.A.T. gear and these people were...who exactly?! I recognized at least one of them as a regular at the diner but...he's no fighter.
To add to the weirdness of the night, I ran into...well, let's call him a one night stand. I don't even USE dating apps but supposedly I set up a date with this guy. We met a bit earlier behind the diner. I even confirmed with Pete that I got a small sandwich to go before muttering about heading to the beach with him. The BEACH?! What am I, a teenager?! Much of the date is foggy but I went all-in on that date and I'm not really sure why. He's about my height, seems to run his own business and all. Nothing wrong with a self-made man, and he certainly looked nice enough. What I fail to grasp is why I slept with him so...eagerly. Like being near him by itself would earn me cash or eternal life and health. He was cute but not necessarily someone I'd drop panties for. When I wear them. Luckily we had a very short conversation, and I couldn't tell if he even remembered me or not. Probably for the best that he doesn't.
I had Wilbur send the shelter residents and lodgers to the fire station for the night and housed the farm animals at the veterinary hospital for the night as well. I didn't want to risk the chickens being in some crosshairs if the tunnel were to collapse or worse. This morning though the police gave a blanket statement regarding the three gunned down officers and the raid, but that's it. No comment on those civilians whatsoever...
I'm starting to wonder now if Aciago's rantings might hold more truth than I realized.