Post by Bhu <3 Irwin on Jul 18, 2012 12:17:07 GMT -5
Name: Bhuvana Lagasse.
Species: Human.
Age: 18 years, 10 months.
Physical Description: With dark brunette hair that hangs only a inch past her shoulders, the girl often has it slung up into a messy pony-tail. Hazel green eyes wisp anxiously tree to tree as the woman moves briskly on thick muscled legs. Her arms are bulky beneath her lightly tanned skin--which is typically darkened by the earth's dirt--though her torso holds a slim, feminine form. She stands at only 5 feet, 1 inch tall. Her clothing are woven tightly from what she can harvest without killing, usually holding a green or brown hue.
Personality: Not quite social, though not entirely withdrawn, Bhuvana steers clear of her own kind, outside her sister. She has no wandering eye for males, chosing to devote herself to nonhuman species. She is a fierce guardian, unafraid to die for the sake of a loved one. Death holds no icy grip of terror on her heart, though she tends to shy away from emotional turmoil. The girl is a physical being, chosing to war with the world, rather than battle with what lies deeper within. Bhuvana is quiet, having long since decided that speaking leads to relationships, and relationships result in pain.
There is one true catch to her personality; she has a temper towards humans that is matched by few. She will never lift a fist against her forest friends, but the smallest injustice by a human counterpart leads to a monster being born. She will kill, and she will not regret it.
Likes/dislikes: Bhuvana likes animals and dislikes humans.
Bhuvana likes earth based foods and dislikes meat.
Bhuvana likes being active and dislikes relaxation.
Bhuvana likes the forest and dislikes aquatic settings.
Bhuvana likes the rain and dislikes the sun.
Bhuvana likes solitude and dislikes groups.
History: Bhuvana ran off and made home in Eden's Remains when her youngest sister (Alenna) was only 10 years old, and she was 13 years old. She lived most of her life uneventfully, making friends with animals of both magical and nonmagical descent. It was not until six months ago that Bhuvana discovered that something was, in fact, missing. Stumbling across an ill pregnant doe goat wandering alone, Bhuvana took in the mama goat, naming her Truffles due to her chocolate fur. She helped the goat struggle through her illness, feeding her and watering her, cleaning her as needed. About four and a half months go, the mom birthed two kids, but died in the process. One boy was healthy, but it was clear the mom's illness had taken its toll on the smaller of the two kids. Bhuvana harvested the milk from the body of the deceased mother, feeding the kids. After the birth mother’s milk was used up, Bhuvana collected from kind wildlife around her, and improvised with making some when the need arose.
After three months, Bhuvana knew it was time to wean the healthier of the two boys. He was an easy one to convince. With pride, Bhuvana watched the juvenile go out to carve his own path. Her other child, however, remained a milk-drinker for another month. He was then weaned, but his mental and physical drawbacks made the boy, Irwin, incapable to be a loner. He remained with Bhuvana, and Bhuvana has made it her life to try and fight off the illness the boy is burdened with.
A special event:
The doe was due, her moans let me know this. The icy grip of fear knawed at my heart, knowing Truffles was not strong enough for this. The disease was too deep, even the strong girl could not handle it. Hanging my head in defeat, I could do nothing but merely place my clammy palm on Truffles' heaving ribs in an attempt to comfort. I cooed a few gentle notes as Truffles birthed her two sons and left laid her head in my lap as she left them behind. I looked to them as they sat without motion. I lifted the bigger of the two, rubbing his chest until his rapid breathing came bursting from his nose. I repeated on the smaller one, and noted that his breathing was weaker than his brother. The bigger one was white with only his head being tan, while the brother was white but shared the black stripe along his spine that his mother had.
I lifted named the larger of the two Lester, after the name my father would have chosen had he been gifted a son. The youngest one, however, I lifted to my chest and cradled him. There was something special about the weak framed boy, I could feel it radiating off of him. With tears in my eyes, I laid my head onto his moist skull. "I heard of a hero, once. His name was Steve Irwin. He cared for the world. You, my dear," I held him out, arms outstretched as I watched his auburn gaze meet my hazel, "are a hero. Welcome to the world, Irwin."