"Can a mortal be more righteous than God? Can even a strong man be more pure than his Maker?" - Job 4:17
"Even angels long to look into these things." - Peter 1:12
Name: Hudson Barnett (he/they)
Age: about his early 30s
Birthday: March 7th, ???? ♓︎
Height: 5'11"
Location: NYC baby!!
Occupation: pediatric nurse for a local children's hospital
Hobbies: gardening, volunteering for local food/homeless shelters, collecting journals and stationary
Most Treasured Possession: a hardback copy of the bible with a navy blue cover and gold lettering, the thin pages tinged yellow and worn with age after being read cover to cover over the years. inside, a small envelope rests alongside the ribbon bookmark, containing an old scrawled out note from Hudson's mom.
"People have understandable reasons for being so squeamish about it - religion, I mean." He admits with a sheepish smile, one you could swear had an aura of warmth surrounding it despite the lack of contact. "I've heard more than a fair share of stories while working, volunteering, all that stuff. It makes it easy to see why people make those choices, why they think that kind of power doesn't exist. It certainly takes a lot to have faith, not just in God but in anything really, no matter how much we think we understand about it." He stands from his seat on the bench, dusting off his scrubs before extending his hand. The streetlamp behind his head cascades yellow light down on his head, almost like a mocking halo. "In the end, it's not my place to judge - it's His, isn't it? Just makes it so that's one less thing I have to worry about."
face claim: daniel bruhl ofc, specfically from his newest sweater jacket campaign :)
🌼 more background below the cut! 🌼
Hudson Barnett was always a good little Christian boy growing up. In the smaller suburbia town of Greenport, New York, he was raised by a single mom, Betty Barnett - a local devout Christian who loved everything and everyone, but no one more than her own son. Hudson's father had passed away just after he was born, dying under mysterious circumstance that no one could really explain, but that didn't bother Hudson too much. He was just as happy to enjoy the company of his mother, whether it was late at night helping her sew her quilts while watching television, helping pull out nasty weeds from her back garden, or holding her hand and waddling through the isles of Sunday mass.
As he grew older, Hudson had quite the attachment to all things related to the outdoors, but even more so to people. He loved listening to people, talking to them and asking them questions, and was especially proficient in consoling them during hard times. Hudson quickly became known as a local empath of sorts, somehow always being able to read a room and someone's emotions from the smallest hints they would give away. He'd always say he doesn't know how he does it, he just does. He can sense when something's wrong, no matter how far down or locked away the matter may be within someone's heart.
Of course being a good student with A's and B's across the board, Hudson found himself going for a public university rather than a private religious institute (or a hike for pilgrimage as gently suggested by his mother) after high school. He already knew enough about his own faith and religion, and being the little scientist he always was, he wanted to learn more about the big ol world that was now at his feet. His mind was first drawn to the natural sciences in his undergrad studies, much like his youth, which eventually led him to excel extremely well in studies of medicine (you might even swear he was fluent in Latin with how well he could memorize and pull out medical terminology at the drop of a hat).
Now contently living his adult life as a nurse at Saint Mary's Hospital for Children in Queens, he can't help but let questions wander in his mind about his odd yet still somehow mundane existence. What happens to him when he wakes up in the dead of night, surrounded by journals and scrawled out notes in a seemingly ancient language that he could never hope to translate or understand? How badly will his faith be tested and bent when he starts seeing strange shadows in the night, when he talks to one person one moment and ends up holding their arm harshly the next, with no memory of how he got there? Will his morbid curiosity about the mysterious origins of his father drive him to dig deeper, much deeper than he would ever intend to go?
