Nickname: Willows
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Looks: It doesn't take more than a single glance to figure out this one’s not completely there. Scathingly vertically challenged at five foot five and weighing only one hundred and twenty pounds, Willows appears very harmless and young to the majority that set eyes upon her, which couldn't be further from the truth. She's a whopping firecracker ready to slam her effectual fists across your jaw if you sass her the wrong way and she probably trumps you in age unless your something of the unique flavour. Dark lashes frame her blue peepers, complimenting her peaches-and-cream complexion. Her skin's not exactly swarthy in colour but she's never been translucent; not the unusual pigmentation of a sopping piece of wet paper. Her cheeks are a little more shallow, accentuating her prominent cheekbones and full, bowed lips. Thick, long, choppy handfuls of obsidian locks tumble across her forehead and ears. You might've had a weird feeling that she cut it herself but you'd have no way of knowing. It's not exactly horribly done but there's something feral and untamed in the way her layered locks fall, as if they were sheared with dull blades while being in a particularly abstract mood. Un-straightened they curl into ocean waves, revealing a whole different person.
Personality: She is the darkest horse receding at the edge of the herd, barely noticeable but still snorting at every remark she doesn't agree with. Her defence mechanisms are exhausting. Her rough exterior leaves little to be desired. While she may occasionally offer a helping hand, Willows doesn't stray too far from her comfort zone. Her unwillingness to let people walk through her front door often shuts down any initial thoughts of companionship or acquainted friendship. Best described as a predator, she moves as one, holding a dangerous potential in her movements and attitudes. These are traits that many have tried weaning her away from, to no avail. She's a shot of whiskey doused in cheek-puckering rye. Strong and goes down stinging, burning down your throat. You swear you won't have another. You won't speak with her. But, you do. And she hates you for it. Willows is not the type of person you would notice right away, not unless you were really looking for her. The less people that notice you, the more you tend to be able to get away with. That isn't to say that she can't stand out or draw attention to herself if she wants to, her preference simply lies in remaining under the radar. She's not without her imperfections. Beneath that veil is something different, a blossom yet to bloom. The harsh environment of her mother and father made her like this, so she is only a diamond in the rough.
Weapons: 12 gauge pump-action shotgun.
Other: -
