Sabine "Shi" Vida
Sabine "Shi" Vida
Portrayed By Rachel Dashae
Gender Female
Date of Birth 9/25/1991
Age 18
Zodiac Sign Libra
Aliases Shi for now
Place of Birth Intercourse, Pennsylvania
Current Location Wheremyfeettakeme, New York
Occupation Vagabond
Known Relatives Mary Vida
Significant Other None
Identity Crisis
Known Abilities Psychic medium in speaking to the dead. Necromancy in raising the dead to the status of 'undead'.
First Appearance Present day New York

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Small towns always bare the crudest of rumors, and this one stuck to the women of the Vida family since they came to settle in the small town of Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Yes, there is such a place, Amish dominated to boot. But skipping over the cruel irony of what these people did in their bored time (which was abundant) they also kept silver tongued and wary eyes towards the homestead of the Vida’s.

From the beginning of the brutal witch hunts until the common day superstition the words of evolved with time when it came to them. Witch, heretic, freak, mutant! All of it staked to their lawns through time or burned into their fields, carved onto the children’s desks and haunting them with the echoing taunt of voices at their backs.

Sabine was no exception to this. Her father having died shortly after her birth she was raised by her mother Mary Veda, and haunted by her father. This could play with many people’s minds, distorting them, but as a child her mother always thought it odd she seemed content, more so a silent child, talking and staring at an unfocused place just above her crib, toddler bed, and then her own twin of young adulthood.

Mary thought to question it as she grew older and was forming words but would silence when the old wood floor would creak and betray Mary’s attempt to listen in. Instead, she used the cover of ensuring she was up for school and ushered her out the door once she was ready, but what stopped Mary’s pace one day [as well as her heart nearly] was when Sabine called back over her shoulder. “Dad says he loves you.”

The day was spent in silence until Sabine returned home, called to the kitchen table and calmly screamed at. The decibel finally lowered from shrill to a guttural choked sob and whimpering pleas of how this should not be spoken of, and how they had come to be cursed, no woman was free of some sort of ‘ability’ in the Veda line, and Sabine’s was tortuous.

Sabine wondered in her years of silence, taking the moments of [shunned] silence in high school to read books on magic, curses, and mutations, looking up library archives on articles of stories. It was no easy task as the small town that chose to shut itself out from the world and hug dearly to what they called reality, tended to weed out articles and books that pertained to ‘evil’. But not everything could be kept from her. Articles came of heroes called mutants, villains also called mutants, and it seemed the activity nearby centered in New York.

What use was a girl who could talk to the dead, see the dead, and play a medium? She thought it was limited, just dulled to only that and she kept mute of anything more even to her mother. Friends was a thing that she could not come by and it soon played havoc on Sabine’s mind, her solace found in stray animals she would feed along the way; one in particular was a German Shepherd mix that would follow her to and from school, but never onto the grounds. Any other people sent it running, where it would disappear like a ghost, only to surface at her side along the wooded path.

A companion in a beast was the best she could come by and one she relished, though time takes its toll on all things and not everything could be happy forever. By either carriage or car she stumbled over the corpse of this canine on her way home one night and for once she knew a splitting ache inside her that not even the ridicule of other teens could bring and she suffered the loss of her one friend in a crumpled heap at the side of the road. Her fingers clenched to fists, nails biting crescent moons into her palms and welling up blood that ran down her wrists and into the clutch she held upon the thick fur of the beast. In her mind the memories swam of the animal with life, padding at her side, tongue lolling out to the side in a lopsided grin only a beast could carry. That was when the dog shifted beneath her grip and the broken body rose.

The shrill scream of terror sent birds flying from the treetops and echoed along the hilled pathway but went unheard save for the animals, insects and the dog before her with one eye dangling from its socket and a collapsed chest cavity – but it still bore that silly grin and a split tongue lolling from its bloodied maw.

This time it followed her home and her mother went into hysterics.

It had to be let go, it was insisted despite the bloodied clutch to the ruff of the dog Sabine kept upon it. The attachment was sure, but the mother knew better, if the people saw, if the people came to know – history repeats itself.

A trip to the nearest city library gave Sabine all the books she needed, Voodoo, Hoodoo, necromancy – this was what research called her ability or abilities in part. She could speak to the dead and bring them to life, but not fully restore them, though even this was documented in some fictional history, though it took a lot more than a fistful of blood. To put them back after raising them was her first trained lesson, and the order had to come from her will. Sabine had to separate her desire for a companion and put back the ‘poor creature’ as her mother called the canine; let him rest. Would she want to live looking like that? Not bloody likely, and if live is what you could call it, the longer it took her to let go of her attachment the more the animal came to rot and flesh hung from its bones as the muscle and tissue that held him together deteriorated.

One week later, they buried what Sabine had come to call Lobo in their back yard, to his final rest.

Now the sit down came, and with the pile of books stacked neatly beside Sabine as well as the articles on the activity in New York. Sabine needed others like her, needed out of the wary eye, and a ticket was purchased one way to Manhattan – perhaps there, she would blend.



"You're eyes are so…so….not there."




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