I saw her for the first time when they buried me. She was standing to the side, behind my family, waiting patiently with the shovel she'd used to dig the hole. Blonde hair framed her face, her hands scrubbed clean of soil but still scratched, the nails torn and slightly dingy from years of digging and planting. She didn't see me watching her, her eyes were cast down in respect.

I'm not sure anyone noticed, really. My eyes had fluttered open as the last rites were said over my body, and I felt too tired to try and argue when I was lowered into the earth. Damp dirt littered over my body, and the cold tickle of crumbling earth turned into the heaviest, most comforting blanket. They covered my face last, and it made me happy. For a few moments more I got to see her working the shovel, turning and heaving the soil down to me rhythmically. The beat of the iron trowel against the pile of dirt that would entomb me was the backbeat fo a lullaby.

God, she was an angel.

My life up to the point where I saw her sort of faded back, stepping back from the spotlight. I could remember my home and family if I really tried, the dog I grew up feeding under the table and the bright blue bracelet my best friend and I had woven together. I'd just been a girl who loved warm summers and couldn't be bothered to think too hard about the rumors of war in Raiaera or the atrocities that befell my grandparents before I was born.

Life had been easy, but alas, death is easier. It comes without effort at all, true and loyal. Now I was dead. And bored.

I'm not sure how long I stayed down in the hole but eventually I tried to move - it worked. Slowly, underneath the weight of the world above, I began to shift and wiggle, working my way up through the earth. I supposed it was a boon that my parents hadn't been able to afford a casket and hadn't had time to make one either. Was my demise really that sudden? I could barely remember but I supposed it must have been.

When I finally worked my upper body upward through the ground, I found it was night. There was no trace of my funeral, and I supposed it must have taken several days to emerge anyway. Time had a way of feeling inconsequential now that the spectre of death was no longer an imminent threat.

I tried to knock as much filth off my funeral dress, the white gown embroidered with little filigree along the collar in baby blue. I think my mother made it, but I had no memory of her working on it. There was a lot I didn't know about the time between my death and the moment I woke up.

Now what?

I felt... lost. More so than I ever had when I was alive. The afterlife I'd imagined wasn't here. Instead it was just me, a girl with a dirty dress, and a strange hunger for something I couldn't describe...

My mind fell on the pretty gravedigger. I wondered how soft that blonde hair was and if her skin was as warm as it looked. Maybe, I thought, I should find her. She ought to know more about death than I did, at any rate.

Hazel Gregory Payne
16 year old human girl
5'3" 117lbs
Unkempt blonde hair. It had once been braided nicely, but now was just messy. Wearing a stained white dress, barefoot, eyes white and skin so pale it's nearly blue.

Undead
- Cannot die from wounds that would kill a normal person (ie stabbing) but also cannot heal things like broken bones. Decapitation ensures a kill.

The Strength
- Without pain or the psychological need for restraint to prevent pain, she push her body to greater limits as far as strength and endurance go. She has roughly twice the strength as the average 16 year old human girl.

The Hunger
- Consuming flesh is something that she seeks but does not require - she can eat anything to keep her body going. However, consuming any flesh gives her a boost to sight and hearing for a short time (one hour). Consuming human flesh specifically seems to ignite her memory and gives her a highter insight and memory recall for the same amount of time (one hour).

Current Inventory
- N/A