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Rowan Woods

The Theorist

0 · 924 views · located in Stockbridge, Massachusetts

a character in “Stockbridge”, as played by Saracen_Rue

Description

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ROWAN WOODS
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"Say you'll see me again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams."
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xxxxx|| Legal Name || Rowan Amelia Woods
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xxxxx|| Nickname(s) || Wen, Red
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xxxxx|| Pronouns || She/Her
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xxxxx|| Age || Twenty-Four (24)
xxxxx|| Sexuality || Homosexual (Closeted)xx
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xxxxx|| Role || The Theoristxx
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xxxxx|| Birth-place || Cape Cod, Massachusettsxx
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xxxxx|| Hex || #5ABBE6xx
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xxxxx|| Height || 5' 10"
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xxxxx|| Build || Awkwardly tall and lanky, but not scrawny
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xxxxx|| Description || In all intents and purposes, Rowan appears to be the stereotypical nerd that one would see on the school grounds back in high-school. With shaggy, shoulder length light, strawberry blonde hair, pale skin and blue eyes. Everything about her screams awkward. From her choice of clothing, which tends to lead more towards 80's retro; that can be anything from over-sized cardigans and jeans, to high-waisted shorts and short sleeve shirts. Her preferred color pallet in her wardrobe tends to lean towards lighter colors, more light blues and pinks than anything else; but on occasion Rowan can be seen sporting darker tones and shades, typically in her usual denim jacket. But the most outstanding part of her attire, is the glasses she is always seen wearing. They seem to be far too big and awkwardly built for her face, while somehow managing to compliment her all at the same time.

Standing tall with equally lanky limbs, Rowan tends to stand out in a crowd, much to her annoyance. Seeing as she is anything but a social butterfly. But, she has come a long way since her younger years. She still holds an awkward air about her, but she seems to be somewhat more confident and sure of herself. But, her true nature down to her core is outwardly visible for all too see, which is often to her dismay.
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xxxxx|| Likes || Soft and over-sized sweaters, honey and lemon tea, animals of all kinds, morning sunrise, fresh smell of pine, studying and or reading, old history books, clovers, fresh fruit, certain alcohol, 80's music, horror movies, thick and warm blankets, waking up early, photography, drawing/sketching, computer science, soft scented candles, classic Disney movies
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xxxxx|| Dislikes || Scent of stale beer, most cigarettes, bullies and overall judgemental people, organized religion, abusive authority figures, her mother, attention being put on her, thunderstorms, loud and sudden noises, people arguing
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xxxxx|| Quirks || Messes with her hair whenever anxious, bites on her bottom lip when in deep thought, her nose crinkles when she laughs, usually covers her mouth whenever she smiles
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xxxxx|| Fears || Complete darkness, eery silence, cramped and tight spaces, being buried alive
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xxxxxFrom the Rowan that people see, and the Rowan that so few people actually know, lies an endless mystery. Even to those that Rowan once called her closest friends. You see, when a one has a prominent pensive expression, and a severe case of 'Lock Jaw', combined with how one dresses and presents themselves like Rowan does; it's not so much of a surprise that not many people ever tend to really know her.

Whenever one looks at Rowan, they tend to think that she's just shied away from anything and everything. From the constant furrowed brows, tensed jaw, and occasionally mumbling to herself incoherently, people have come to refer to Rowan as nothing more than the Town's Loser. Especially seeing who her parents had once been, it's sad to say that reputation is everything, even more so in a small town like Stockbridge. Rowan is also known to be typically seen avoiding any and all eye contact with people, Always being fidgety, tending to stutter or get visually and physically flustered all too easily whenever she's approached by someone she doesn't know that well, and even more so when it's a stranger.

But that's just what people see on the outside when they simply look at Rowan, without really looking at her. If most people really took a moment to give Rowan a chance or even more than five seconds, the real Rowan would be seen within seconds. Her often clenched jaw and avoidance of people, is nothing more than her being a bundle of nerves that's about to explode from anxiety and lack of social skills. Always afraid of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong impression. The avoidance of looking others in the eye and mumbled responses? Rowan's too afraid to look at people directly due to the up-bringing and abuse she had been dealt when she was a child. Only really talking when directly spoken to, and even then it's usually quick, fumbled responses. She's just never been good in social situations.

However, that isn't to say that she's the worst person anyone could ever meet. Far from it actually. Putting all of Rowan's social awkwardness aside, she's a very genuine and kind person. Always wanting to do right by others and help them wherever she can. Back in highschool it was usually helping out with home-work and helping someone with some questions. Which, has since translated into her adult years. Rowan has always been a people pleaser and just wants to make people feel valued and cared about, simply because she never truly got to experience it herself. She knows how to put on the everything is fine act, often wearing a smile. No matter how forced it may be. Deep down, Rowan knows that something is missing, she just doesn't know what it is exactly. She's confused on a lot of aspects, especially about herself. But seeing as what kind of family she comes from, and what mentality her family has forced onto her, Rowan has kept many of her personal feelings about herself, to herself. Being too afraid if anyone were to find out, nothing good could come from it. It's what her parents always told her anyway..
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xxxxx|| Eidetic Memory || Rowan is able to recall an image from memory with high precision for a brief period after seeing it only once, and without using a mnemonic device. This isn't to be confused with photographic memory, which usually leans towards numbers and text.
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xxxxx|| Multi-Lingual || Due to how much time Rowan spent reading whenever she was alone, which was more often than not, she was able to garner a wide spread skill-set, and learning different languages was one of those. She knows how to read and speak French, Spanish, Russian, German, Polish, and of course English.
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xxxxx|| Strengths || Her memory is incredibly strong, so chances of Rowan being the one to remember something is incredibly high. Which usually means she's the one someone tends to come to if they have a question or in need of help looking something up. Cooking, oddly enough Rowan is a rather good cook. Not many people know this fact, but seeing as she spent much of her time looking after herself from a young age, she learned how to make just about anything and rarely ever is a dish she makes no at least half-way decent. Loyal, while it may come as a shock due to her nearly mousy personality, Rowan is one of the most loyal and reliable people one can come across. When and if she finds someone or something worth fighting for, she'll see it to the end
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xxxxx|| Weaknesses || Nightmares, even with the amount of time that Rowan is nowhere near sober, it never seems to stop the memories from returning, Severe Insomnia, ever since Rowan was a child, she always had trouble sleeping, but it has only gotten worse over-time. Even to the point of where she'll be awake for days on end and still be unable to sleep. Nothing seems to work, and since it happened, sleep has become an almost torturous affair, Naive, while this isn't meant to be mistaken for her being stupid; she's anything but. Academically, Rowan is an absolute genius, but in nearly every other situation, she's entirely oblivious. Jokes and comments tend to go over her head, more often than not. Or she can be easily tricked, which has caused her to get in less than savory situations in the past
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Many of her younger years are a bit of a blur to Rowan, if she were to be honest. From a mix of constant moving from one town to another, and sometimes even another state entirely. Rowan and her parents were always on the move, never staying in one place for too long. Which, seeing how she turned out later in life, is much of an influence on why it is hard for her to open up and get close to people. For so long she spent moving from one place to another, it kept her from being able to truly find a place that felt like home. Having originally been born in Cape Cod, where her family stayed for the first two years, before moving to Boston for about six months, before they ended up moving again. And the cycle repeated for another two years, before they finally moved back and arrived to Stockbridge when Rowan was five years old.

Much to Rowan's surprise, Stockbridge seemed to be the place that her family decided on settling. And they have resided in this oddball town since. But, it wasn't easy. Especially seeing how her family was from the get-go. They were never a tight-knit family, like one would suspect. From about as early as she could recall, Rowan would lie awake to her parents arguing into the long hours of the night. Which eventually dwindled from them arguing and yelling each other, blaming the other for whatever misfortune happened that day. To being aimed at Rowan herself by the time she was eight years old.

From her mother's strict conservative and bible thumping views, to her father's alcoholic tendencies and binges, Rowan never truly did have a chance. And sadly, coming from a broken and overly toxic family, was the least of her worries. Growing up in a small town, with such a small population of people, where everyone knows everyone in one way or another. To living essentially in the middle of nowhere. With deep, dense forests surrounding the town, and moutainous landscapes off to the north. Stockbridge was beautiful and it was home, but the people...Didn't make Rowan's already rather lonely life any less miserable.

At the very start of when she was around ten years old, it seemed Rowan was destined to be the socially awkward nerd who would sit in the back of class near the windows. Looking out on occasion as her mind took her elsewhere. Even when she was able to focus on what the teacher was saying at the same time. Her imagination seemed to be her one true escape in life. From her parents abusive manners, to the bullies at school. Whether it was fellow students or even teachers who took advantage of their status. Rowan often found herself being taken advantage of and walked over by nearly everyone she came across. Except for a few souls who most likely felt sorry for her. And of course her grandmother. But even then, nothing seemed to fill the void.

Things only got worse when her mother dissapeared when Rowan was twelve. A police investigation had been made, but after two months, they seemingly gave up and stopped searching. There was no answer or reason for what happened. She just, vanished without much of a trace. Rowan probably would have thought it would make things easier on her, without her mother around. The woman who abused her so heavily for years. ANd one would think she would be happy to have her primary tormentor gone. But, Rowan couldn't help but blame herself. Maybe if she had been a better daughter, it may not have happened. Over the years though, she has stopped blaming herself less and less, but that still small voice at the back of her head sometimes come back. Things had remained the same however, for the next six years. Her father was still a drunk that emotionally and mentally abused Rowan nearly daily. The two didn't argue like Rowan and her mother did, but Edward's neglectful behavior had done enough on her.

When she was eight-teen, Rowan's grandmother Evelyn took her in to live with her. A small home on the edge of town. It wasn't terrible by any means, but it sure was better than living in that skeleton of a home with Rowan's father any longer. For the next few years, Rowan was able to obtain a job and have a few friends, but she still felt like something was just off and could never place her finger on it. Whether it was the town and the residents in Stockbridge, or even herself. Rowan has so many questions that haven't been answered. Especially after that night. Rowan had been at the library for a closing shift when she returned home, knowing full well her grandmother would be asleep. However, when she woke up, and realized her grandmother and just about everyone else was just missing, Rowan and the others have been trying to make sense of it all. And honestly, Rowan doesn't know what to believe or think of any of it...

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cs: phosphene - fc: Mackenzie Davis - hex code: #5ABBE6

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So begins...

Rowan Woods's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Theodora Pawlak-Iraklidis Character Portrait: Rowan Woods Character Portrait: Deirdre Worthington Character Portrait: Bea Clarke Character Portrait: Maximus Sawyer Character Portrait: Junpei Kubo
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Deirdre Worthington
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The Freelancer | Attire | #9D948D
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Rowan Woods
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The Theorist | Attire | #5ABBE6
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Two weeks. It had been two weeks since everything seemed to not only go to hell in a handbasket, but nearly everyone in the small town of Stockbridge had all but disapeared without a trace. Leaving only a handful of survivors in the form of a ragtag group of long time friends, and strangers. No one knew what happened, how could they, they were all asleep as everything seemed to go routinely like they always did. But when they awoke, the few remaining individuals found themselves to be the only ones left. And since then, things had somehow only gotten worse. As if everyone else in your hometown disapearing in the dead of night wasn't bad enough.

Even more random and strange happenings started around town, which seemed to only add to the already horror movie esque feeling everyone found themself in. Strange voices and sounds were heard down alleyways or streets when one wasn't looking, only to look and just barely catch sight of something before it was gone. Shadows appearing and disapearing in the blink of an eye. As abnormal and questionable it all was on its own, the added notion of everyone else being gone hadn't help any stress that found itself forming over the weeks that followed.

None of this made sense, and why should it have? How could hundreds, no nearly two thousand people, cease to exist without anyone noticing at all? There just wasn't any reasonable or logical reason or explanation. Which is what led to where the remaining group find themselves today. Within the past two weeks sine they found themselves the only survivors, so to speak, everyone had been doing their part in trying to find out something, anything at all at this point to help point them in the right direction. Leaving town wasn't an option, they all learned that the hard way. Sawyer having been the first one to volunteer himself to walk through the eery mist that seemed to hang around the outskirts of town. Only to find himself walking back where he started. Appearing to be in some endless loop. No matter what way Sawyer or any of the others tested it out, they would always return back from where they came. No one was getting out that way. Any connection or communication to the outside world of Stockbridge wasn't possible. Whatever unsteady connection they already had with the internet was gone. Any calls or messages sent either weren't able to be sent, or went unanswered. Nevermind getting any signal.

However though, after some rooting around, Bea and others had managed to find some walkie talkies in the Sherrif's office, and well, no one would be missing them. And even if anyone managed to show up, they doubted they'd be in trouble for using some manner of communicating with each other at least. Thank god that at least worked. Outside of that, the group had also managed to find another odd thing, the power, water, heat, and electricity seemed to remain. Meaning they hadn't a reason to worry about going cold or not having constant light or heat sources. However odd that also seemed. But nothing ever made sense in this town, even before everything went to hell.

Since then though, the group had also made secured locations throughout town. Starting with the local diner being made their daily meeting spot, where they would all show up at a designated time to report whatever findings they had that day. Usually there wasn't much to report on. Other than the same old answers half the time. The library had also been more or less Rowan's second home, considering how much time she spent there every day, trying to read as many books as she could, or search for any information that was potentially helpful to them. Often times being escorted to and from the library by Theo, as she often requested. Which, Rowan had finally relented, allowing her friend to help walk her to and from the old building in question. Which is where Rowan found herself now. Stacks of opened books all around her as she was busily scanning over yet another page. Eyebrows furrowed neatly together as she took in as much information as she could.

Only almost jumping out of her skin when she heard a sudden sound, before taking a steady, deep breath as she realized it was only the alarm on her phone going off. Alerting her that it was time to pack up, and head over to the diner. They'd be having another meeting today, even though Rowan knew it would just end with her rambling to the others, who were always disinterested as always with whatever she found. Slipping a few books into the leather backpack, Rowan tossed over her shoulder, and with one more look around the room, she grabbed her phone and exited the library. Quickening her pace as she made it down the side-walk. A cold gust of wind caused a shiver down her spine. As if the cold and dreary weather wasn't helping the already ghost town feeling Stockbridge had now, as if it didn't always have that feeling.

Rowan knew that the others would arrive shortly after she got to the diner, seeing as she was usually always one of the first ones to get there. Seeing as how she was often too eager as the others said. Truth be told she was, even if what she had to share wasn't much of anything knew. Hopefully the others had something better to share than she had. Rowan dug her hand into the pocket of her jacket, slipping out a set of keys as she enclosed the building up ahead. Skip's Diner, the old building said in bright neon colors. Rowan gave a soft sigh, pushed the key in and turned it as she stepped into the small building. Her eyes darting around, she never liked being alone in the establishment. It just never felt right to her, and she didn't know why.

Setting down her backpack on one of the booth's tables, Rowan flipped the light-switch, and the dull white flurecant lights above flickered for a moment, before stabilizing. She slipped into the booth, taking the spot alongside the window, as she took out her phone. Quickly sending a text to Bea, weirdly enough they could communicate with each other still, but everyone else was impossible to ever get a response from. Just as Rowan had sent the text asking where Bea was, a bang sounded on the glass window right next to her head. Causing her to jump once again. A loud and all too familiar chuckle sounded, as a figure slipped in through the main door, "Well you're here early." Rowan heard her friend chime. Rowan's eyes darted over to the darker haired individual, "I suppose so. But...Good afternoon to you too, Dre." she greeted softly. Deirdre gave a small smile and nod, sliding into the spot across the booth from Rowan, Afternoon, Ro. Guessing your trip to the ol' library was a bust?" they questioned, leaning back in the booth. Rowan simply responded with a small shrug of her shoulders. Unsure whether to burst any hopes anyone had just yet, or wait until they were all together again once more. For now she'd wait, at least at that point she could disapoint them all at once. That thought was for sure a comforting out...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Theodora Pawlak-Iraklidis Character Portrait: Rowan Woods Character Portrait: Deirdre Worthington Character Portrait: Bea Clarke Character Portrait: Logan Park Character Portrait: Conner Bailey
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Letta Hardcastle.
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The Journalist | outfit. | #c27ba0.
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Two weeks later and Letta still couldn't believe that her family was still missing. The anxiety surrounding her grandfather had hit quickly, but she was beginning to miss even her grandparents, as overbearing as they could be. When she first found them gone, she had taken their expensive car out for a spin, she ate whatever she wanted, slept in often, and wore whatever she wanted. But a few days into things, it got old quickly and she began to worry.

What helped to keep her from spiraling, were her friends and her writing. She was determined to figure out what happened to not only her family but her town as well. She wasn't the only one missing loved ones. Ben was missing his father, Bea was missing hers, and on and on. An evergrowing list of the missing.

That wasn't the only concerning thing about what was going on in Stockbridge. Those who were left, the survivors, reported seeing strange things around town. Things they couldn't explain. Their power would work, but they couldn't get any signals from outside of town. No radio. No tv. No cell signals. No internet. They were completely alone.

Letta stood in her room, shoving the things she needed into her satchel: her notebooks, her pens, a flashlight, and a few small "essentials" like chapstick, a small water bottle, and a granola bar. Tonight was another meeting of the survivors. Mostly to theorize just what might've happened to get them all into this mess, and how exactly they were going to get out of it. She looked forward to working with Rowan. She was an incredibly smart girl who always seemed to see things in ways the rest of the town didn't.

Before heading out of her bedroom, she grabbed her Canon Rebel DSLR camera, made her the cap was on tightly, before tossing the strap over her head and bounding down the stairs, shutting the door tightly behind her. She might be the only one living there, but if strange things were afoot in her town, she would like to know if they were cavorting in her bedroom. Plus, she made it clear that her home was open to those who needed it. The only way they were going to get through this thing is together.

She exited her home through the garage after checking every door leading to the outside was locked. She grabbed her rollerskates and shoved her socked feet into them, and rolled out, her boots held tight in one hand and her garage remote in the other. Just like that, she was off down her driveway and headed towards the diner.

She had stopped driving within the first week once they realized they couldn't reach the outside, or leave. If they weren't going to get any more gas, there was no point in wasting it when it could be used for other things in case of emergencies. Besides, this was a small enough town to get around in any way. Why not get some exercise in?

The air was chilly as she pushed her way through the empty streets. The sight still gave her the heebs. She was so used to the bustling of small-town life. Waving to the old man who owned the barbershop as he swept the hair from his floors. Or the produce woman who used to give her a free apple as she passed (if she was on foot or wearing skates). Both of them hadn't been seen since everyone else disappeared. The whole town was reduced to next to no one. She rubbed her arms, though she was warm enough under her jacket that she knew it wasn't from the cold. She could've sworn she was being watched.

Once the diner came into view, she sped towards it, hoping to chase whatever, or whoever was watching her. Or at the very least get enough distance that the feeling would leave her mind.

The ghosts of this town were going to get to her one day.

She reached for the door, pulling it open, swinging herself inside where she used her momentum to roll to a nearby table. Rowan and Dierdre were already there. The sight of the dark-haired, brooding... of Dierdre made her swallow the lump that formed in her throat. She quickly turned her attention to Rowan, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Hey, babe, sorry I'm late." She sat on the edge of the nearest vinyl seat and swapped her skates for her boots. Although I guess I'm early since it's just the three of us." She gave a nod to Deirdre by way of greeting.

She pulled out her phone and sent a request for an ETA to the rest of the group.






Ben Daniels.
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The Misfit | outfits. | #298f5e.
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Ben sat on his front porch, a lit cigarette between his fingers. He took a drag, holding it, and blowing out the smoke in a chemical cloud. He knew he needed to get going or he'd be late for the "meeting". Normally, he would assume that no one would even notice he was missing. But since he began working with Bea, Letta, and Rowan and investigating the town, recording his podcast episodes, if not for any other reason than to just document the goings-on of Stockbridge... he felt seen. He didn't realize how chafing that would feel until he was constantly being looked at and talked to. It had been a long time since he had that kind of attention on him and it was definitely an adjustment.

He took another drag, allowing himself a moment of stillness, to savor the silence. Their small rickety house just outside the neighborhood was usually quiet, especially since it was just he and his father, but there was just something about the stillness around him that he wanted to savor for another moment. It was also a moment of calm before he would be around Bea Clarke again.

She wasn't chaos by any means. She just... caused his body a little chaos. His heart races when he sees her. He talks a little too fast sometimes. His mind moving a mile a minute. He wants to impress her. He wants to be himself. He wants to make her laugh. He doesn't think he's very funny. He blew out another puff of smoke and ran a hand through his dark hair with a sigh. He needed to shake the feelings. Bea was too good for the likes of him. A Misfit. The boy without a mom and an unstable father, raised in the party scene and moved to small town, Massachusetts. He traded board shorts and cargo pants for jeans and leather jackets. Though, strangely enough... if he allowed himself to think about it, he actually prefers this life.

Camping under the stars with friends. Seeing Bea smile. Kayla's hugs and guidance. They liked Ben for who he was and not the money in his pocket or his father's career. Just... Ben.

He took one last drag as the lit end neared the butt of the cigarette before he flicked it into a muddy section of his front yard where it would be doused by the moisture. Last thing they needed was a forest fire when there weren't any firemen around. He released the smoke into the air, watching it dissipate before as it rose into the night sky. Time to go. He thought. He grabbed his flashlight, his phone, a walkie, and his old skateboard, and made his way into town.

He thought about taking it bike to the diner, but he tried to use it only for emergencies. Gas was all around him but he didn't feel like siphoning it until he had to. For now, he would just ride. He arrived at the diner just in time to see Letta Hardcastle barreling towards the door and swinging her way inside. Almost like she was running from something. Ben squinted into the night, only really seeing shadows. He prayed none of those shadows moved any more than a shadow should. He tried not to let it cause him any unease. Before he walked inside, he pulled out his phone, typed a quick text to Bea before heading in.

B
@ Skip's. cu soon. b safe

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Theodora Pawlak-Iraklidis Character Portrait: Rowan Woods Character Portrait: Deirdre Worthington Character Portrait: Bea Clarke Character Portrait: Maximus Sawyer Character Portrait: Junpei Kubo
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b.e.axxc.l.a.r.k.e
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outfit - #7c8688
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In all her years of living in Stockbridge, Bea had never known the town to be as quiet. Even at the dead of night, there was always something or someone around. But now, it was far too quiet. Far, far too quiet. Ever since the moment she'd woken up to a too-quiet town, she'd been waiting for something to happen. Her parents were gone. Everyone was gone. Until the texts had started coming through from the selected handful who were still there. She could have cried a little in relief when Rowan had texted her, soon followed by Deirdre, Toby, and Theo. And, of course, Ben. The whole situation was hard and terrifying, but at least she had all of them by her side to make it a little easier. She got lucky, with some of her favourite people in the world left by her side.

She'd taken to carrying her father's shotgun with her every time she left the house. She didn't know why, but it at least made her feel a little bit closer to him. He'd know exactly what to do in this circumstance. Bea tried to make sure that every decision that she made would make her father proud. She'd commandeered the Sheriff's Office, and people at least seemed to be respecting that. She'd gotten everyone sorted with walkie-talkies to allow them to communicate if their phones went down. She'd also stockpiled what she could of medical supplies, and kept them there, somewhere they could be at least controlled somewhat. She hadn't been so lucky with getting her hands on anything other than basic meds; it seemed that they had been one of the first things to disappear. Bea had all but taken over the role of Sheriff, it seemed, as protector of the people; although not in the ways she would have expected.

She swore softly to herself as she glanced down at her phone and realised the time. She was due to be at the diner soon, and she was still at the sheriff's station. She slung the shotgun across her back and began the trek across town. It was a pleasant trek, but not enough to relax her. It was only when her phone buzzed with a very specific text that she relaxed even the slightest little bit. There was a text from Letta, asking where everyone was. But what made her smile was the text from Ben, specifically to her, saying that he was already at Skip's. She fired back a quick response.

To: Ben
omw, be there in five :)


She hadn't known Ben for long, but in the time they had known each other, he'd already become one of a handful of people who could make her truly smile without even really having to try. He could always make her laugh without even really having to try. Nothing felt right in their current predicament, but when he was nearby, things felt... a little more right. She was truly glad that he hadn't disappeared as well.

She reached the diner and pushed the door open, waving to everyone who was already inside. "Hello, everyone," she called, sliding into a seat across from Rowan.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Theodora Pawlak-Iraklidis Character Portrait: Rowan Woods Character Portrait: Deirdre Worthington Character Portrait: Bea Clarke Character Portrait: Logan Park Character Portrait: Conner Bailey
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