visage. bodyclaim. musing. character study. interaction. most wanted.
Moans and groans fill the night sky, blunt nails scratch along the smooth surface of a car caught amidst a horde of infected. Screams from inside barely carry, they can barely be heard in the distance. But what's that in the distance? Is that OSCAR ISAAC? No way, that's JEAN AYALA-CRAIG. The 45 year old CIS MALE (HE/HIM) used to be a SURGEON. Will they help? Since the outbreak, they've proven to be KNOWLEDGEABLE & FAST-MOVING, but rumor has it they're also GUARDED & DRY, which may pose a risk to the group. They appear to have taken the DOCTOR role within the group. Only time can tell if they succeed.
born and raised in dallas, jean ayala was born to a well-off family, his father being a prominent university professor and his mother a successful lawyer.
though a family which didn't struggle financially, jean and his siblings struggled with their parents, who reguarly argued, split up and made up throughout his childhood.
all this growing discontent with his family life and his home of dallas lead to the young boy to become focused on his studies, striving for what his parents wanted him to be, but having a goal to leave this hellish enviroment.
reaching his adulthood, jean moved to london to medical school. spending years in medical school, jean eventually met malcolm craig, who soon became his boyfriend and eventual husband once jean became a fully certified surgeon.
while they made a life in london, with plans to start their own family, they were halted when jean's father suddenly passed away, leading the couple to move to the american's hometown.
it was a rough start to cope with his father's death, and being back in dallas however the couple continued their bond, still with hopes of a family until another roadblock, which stopped all future plans.
two years before the outbreak, malcolm was diagnosed with stage four cancer, giving him a year until he sadly passed away.
in extreme grief of losing his father and life partner, jean has mostly spent the past two years in a depression, livng off the money left from his partner and his own savings from working as a surgeon.
jean has recently been a guest lecturer at a london university, spending time between dallas and london.
on the day of the outbreak, jean had landed in dallas, where he and the other passengers saw chaos all over the airport and city. managing to make it out with a group of passengers on his flight, they spent the next two months going from abandoned building to abandoned building, barely surving each escape.
the surgeon eventually found the dallas morning news building, where he has offered his expertise as a surgeon to aid the survivors of the outbreak.
fixing a toilet was not what he thought he was going to get into as a builder. celio was leaving while huffing and puffing, nearly running someone over at the entrance. “didn't see you there.” no apologies. barely even moving to let the other walk on by. his life was filled with so much promise before. “careful with the one all the way at the end. don't know what the fellas have been doing there, but things got messy.” at least he was all cleaned up, that was what mattered. he was itching to hot wire a car and go for a drive, but that wasn't his job. “if you know anything that needs fixing, let me know.” the more celio did around here, the less people would be inclined to kick him out.
jean had seen this guy around the office many times, the same grump expression followed with a huff of frustration. he already felt anxious being so cramped with so many unknown faces, and this one was never a face which seemed completely welcoming.
❝ you wouldn't know how to fix an old radio, would ya? ❞
within the safe house the surgeon usually kept to himself, devoting this new 'life' continuing to patch people up, making sure they survive whatever world they had all entered in. though it didn't stop him from snooping around every nook and cranny of the offices he now considered home. well, a home of sorts.
❝ just found it in some old cabinet. no luck from me tryin' to fix the hunk of junk, but you could know a thing or two. ❞
