Jhimara
| Age 40 |
| Gender Masc Female |
| Origin Selvaris-born, Elum-affixed |
| Occupation Wrangler |
It was not for discontent of the view from the homestead, a place unmoving and overlooked by strife, but once a restless seed had sown it was futile for Jhimara to not let it grow. Four decades rolling and fighting against the same dark dirt, her future could allow for some green.
Tales of the Road's perpetuity, visits from her wagonborn cousin known as Jem, were an allure to Jhimara who had wooed one too many a farmer's daughter and worn thin on civic patience. "Get outta here, Jhim," a mantra around the dude ranch, "go with the wagons, next time they come 'round."
So next they came, so she went. With her, a collection of burden beasts. Horses. Bay, roan, black. A great elk. A bison pair. Them all a welcome addition, so long as Jhimara hitched her post to the Wagons of Elum and became servant of the fauna who haul them. Now, the restless seed drinks greedily of the communal life, roots a sponge to Deva culture forgone in youth. The view gets better the further she goes, and the further she grows.
Appearance
| Height 5'8 |
| Build Thick |
| Hair Shaggy mullet, dark blonde |
| Eyes Brown |
Saltgrass and sweet-water have always nourished the Free States working stock, from pony to palfrey. Jhima is nutrient dense in the same way, but all big bones and gentle manner. Her trunk-shaped torso with its hard flat bust, too-wide shoulders that make it a chore to get fitted, a lethargic and wandering gait. She is the worst version of what can be raised from foal.
The shroudic Deva blood within Jhima is diluted by pedestrian human, leaving her lacking hallmarks. Brown eyes, milk skin. Lumpy horns exist somewhere in ragged, coarse hair that is at least three proper washes from true blonde, and they would be visible if impulse and a sharp blade chopped it all off. She is not entirely averse to grooming, keeping nailbeds tidy, practical garments washed. She disguises a secret fondness for silk and brocade cloth, and favor has been plied with such material things in the past.
Her beast form is nothing of note, as ordinary a hulking thing with fur and teeth can be. Possibly softer and rounder, in order to play protector, guardian dog even, among an easily spooked herd.
The shroudic Deva blood within Jhima is diluted by pedestrian human, leaving her lacking hallmarks. Brown eyes, milk skin. Lumpy horns exist somewhere in ragged, coarse hair that is at least three proper washes from true blonde, and they would be visible if impulse and a sharp blade chopped it all off. She is not entirely averse to grooming, keeping nailbeds tidy, practical garments washed. She disguises a secret fondness for silk and brocade cloth, and favor has been plied with such material things in the past.
Her beast form is nothing of note, as ordinary a hulking thing with fur and teeth can be. Possibly softer and rounder, in order to play protector, guardian dog even, among an easily spooked herd.
Personality
- Easy to please, quicker to laugh
- Looks tough, acts tender
- Podunk and proud of it
- Old dog learning new tricks
- Overprotective at best, possessive at worst
- Sensual, sapphic, but noncommittal
- Steady as a rock, simple as one too
Skills
Runs the gamut from husbandry to carpentry. She prefers sticking to tradition rather than embracing innovation, opting to handle situations in familiar ways she’s been taught, rather than trying something that might be more effective but feels unfamiliar.
Animal Whispering - likely substandard as far as innate shroudweaving goes, for who but the worst of men can't forge a bond with an animal? Nevertheless, there is value in it. Most feral things with four legs and a heart can have a bad temper quelled by Jhima's weave.
Animal Whispering - likely substandard as far as innate shroudweaving goes, for who but the worst of men can't forge a bond with an animal? Nevertheless, there is value in it. Most feral things with four legs and a heart can have a bad temper quelled by Jhima's weave.
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