R O L E

HUMANS OF LAZARUS

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N A M E

RUTH CALDER

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NICKNAME

Ruthie

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AGE

24

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GENDER

FEMALE

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SEXUALITY

BISEXUAL

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SPECIES

HUMAN

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KINGDOM

LAZARUS

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A P P E A R A N C E

MARA LAFONTAN

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POWERS/ABILITIES

- No supernatural powers

- But the girl can cook and clean like it's nobody's business.

- Ruth is also very skilled in playing certain musical instruments, mostly because some of his werewolf powers liked music and she was forced to learn so she could please them, and of course, stay in good grades.

- She can repair clothes, stitch wounds (if forced to), and patch up anything that needs fixing.

- She knows which herbs help with pain, which ones are good for cooking, and maybe even a few that could be... dangerous if misused.

- Years of hard labor have made her physically resilient, even if she isn't a fighter.

- She has learned how to gauge a werewolf's mood instantly-who to avoid, when to stay silent, and when to flatter.

- She's good at staying unnoticed, moving quietly through halls, and avoiding trouble when needed.

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P E R S O N A L I T Y

Ruth Calder is a survivor in every sense of the word. Born into servitude in a werewolf-controlled province, she has spent her entire life navigating a world where humans are nothing more than property. Unlike those who have been broken by their circumstances, Ruth has learned how to endure without drawing unnecessary attention to herself. She has no illusions of grandeur-no dreams of rebellion or heroics-but she does have a quiet, unwavering will to live. Every movement, every word, every carefully measured silence is an act of survival.

At first glance, Ruth seems like the perfect servant. She speaks only when spoken to, keeps her head down, and carries out her tasks with practiced efficiency. She has mastered the art of being useful without becoming too noticeable, a delicate balance that has kept her alive for years. Her skills in cooking, cleaning, and music make her valuable, but she knows that value is a double-edged sword. If she is too skilled, she may never be allowed to leave her master's household. If she is too weak or useless, she may be discarded or worse.

Ruth is highly observant, a skill that has become second nature to her. She can tell when a werewolf is in a foul mood just by the way their ears flick or their claws flex. She knows when to offer a well-timed compliment, when to keep her head down, and when to step aside before trouble finds her. She has learned to read between the lines of what is said and, more importantly, what is left unsaid. This keen perception allows her to avoid unnecessary conflict and, on rare occasions, gain small favors or information that might one day prove useful.

When Ruth is alone, the mask slips, if only for a moment. She allows herself small luxuries-humming a song softly to herself, savoring the taste of a stolen sweet, running her fingers over the keys of a piano when no one is watching. Music is her only true escape, the one thing she has that belongs to her, even if she was forced to learn it for the pleasure of others. In these quiet moments, she is not just a slave-she is a person, someone with thoughts, memories, and dreams she dares not voice.

Despite the hardships she endures, Ruth has not lost her sense of humor. When she is around people she truly trusts-other humans who have proven themselves loyal or, on rare occasions, a supernatural who treats her with unexpected kindness-her guarded nature softens. She becomes playful, teasing, and even a little mischievous. Her humor is often dry and sarcastic, a coping mechanism forged from years of hardship, but it is also warm and full of life. She laughs easily when she feels safe, finding joy in the smallest things-a badly played note on a flute, a ridiculous story, or even the absurdity of her own situation.

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B A C K G R O U N D

Ruth Calder's life has never truly been her own. Born into a world where humans are nothing more than property, she has spent most of her years being passed from one werewolf household to another, each master treating her as little more than a tool to be used and discarded. She doesn't remember much of her early childhood-just fleeting memories of hands that weren't always cruel and laughter that wasn't tinged with fear. But once she turned twelve, those memories became a distant dream. That was the year she was sold for the first time, the first of many transactions that would shape her life.

Over the years, Ruth learned how to survive. Every family had its own expectations, its own rules, its own way of handling disobedience. Some were indifferent, barely acknowledging her presence as long as she did her duties. Others were cruel, taking pleasure in reminding her of her place. She adapted quickly, becoming a silent observer, a ghost in the background, never speaking unless spoken to. Her talents-cooking, cleaning, and playing music-kept her useful, ensuring that she was never discarded entirely.

Long before Ruth was born, her great-grandmother had served in a household that no one spoke of anymore. The details were always hazy, lost to time and secrecy, but there was one thing the old woman had always whispered to Ruth when no one else was listening-a night where she had been sent to serve drinks in a room where she wasn't meant to be. The werewolves had ignored her, talking freely as if she were nothing more than furniture. And in their carelessness, they spoke of something terrible. Plans to remove an obstacle, to ensure someone would never be a problem again. A murder.

Ruth had grown up hearing the story over and over again, always in hushed tones, always with the warning to never repeat it. But the older she got, the more she wondered-who had they been talking about? Had the plan succeeded? And most of all... did anyone else know?

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O T H E R

The Scar - One of Ruth's earlier masters had a son-an arrogant young werewolf who enjoyed testing his strength on those weaker than him. One evening, he had been in a foul mood and decided to take it out on the nearest human: her. He shoved her hard enough that she crashed into a firewood rack, a splintered log cutting deep into the flesh of her palm. She still remembers the warmth of the blood, the sting of the wound, and the way no one bothered to help her. It was a lesson: her pain did not matter. The cut left a scar across her palm, a reminder of what happens when she's in the wrong place at the wrong time. To this day, when she clenches her fist, she can still feel the slight pull of the old wound.

The Slave Who Disappeared - There was another human in the household Ruth served, a girl around her age named Lidia. They weren't exactly friends-Ruth avoided attachments-but they shared quiet moments, exchanged whispers, and occasionally covered for one another's mistakes. Then, one night, Lidia was gone. No explanation. No warning. Just an empty cot and a bloodstained cloth in the hallway the next morning. Ruth never asked what happened. She never spoke Lidia's name again. It was the final lesson she needed: attachments are dangerous.

New Master - Ruth's newest master is Lord Alric Voss, a high-ranking noble in the werewolf province. He is wealthy, powerful, and feared-not just for his influence, but for his ruthless nature. Unlike some of her past masters, who were either indifferent or openly cruel, Alric is something far worse: calculating. He does not waste time with unnecessary violence. He does not strike in anger or lose control. Instead, his punishments are precise, cold, and deliberate. If a servant displeases him, he does not raise his hand-he ensures they regret their mistake in ways that linger far longer than bruises ever could. A missed task might mean days without food. A broken dish might mean a night locked outside in the cold. There is no screaming, no outbursts-only quiet, patient cruelty.

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E X T R A S

Hair: A bit unkempt, no matter how much she tries to keep it neat. It's often loosely tied back to keep it out of her face while working. Some strands always manage to escape.

Hands: Scarred from years of work-burn marks from cooking, small cuts from scrubbing, a deep scar on her palm from an old injury. Her fingers are calloused, especially from playing instruments.

Posture: Keeps her head down in front of werewolves, a learned habit of submission. But when she's alone or with someone she trusts, she sits up straighter, like she's reclaiming a tiny piece of herself.

Eyes: Always scanning her surroundings, always watching. A habit born from years of learning when to move and when to stay still.

- Flinches slightly at sudden movements, even if she hides it well.

- Bites the inside of her cheek when she's trying to hold back a sarcastic remark.

- Taps her fingers on surfaces when she's anxious or thinking-often without realizing it.

- Folds and unfolds the hem of her clothing when standing still, a nervous habit.

- Hums quietly while working-usually tunes she remembers from childhood.

- Refuses to eat in front of werewolves unless forced to-she hates feeling like an animal being watched.