Jacinth:
------------------------------

[Age]: 18
[Height]: 5'8"
[Hair Colour]: Crimson-Red, with highlights.
[Ears]: Slightly equine in nature, the furred aural things seem tattered in places.
[Eye Colour]: Large, almond shaped and with an oddly luminous quality in darker places.
[Build]: Curvaceous, Tall.
[Sex]: Hermaphrodite; 11 Inches when aroused.

-----------------------------

'Odd' is perhaps the first word that comes to mind when Jacnith ambles by.
Her mass of crimson hair is usually drawn up into a large ponytail, strips of the silky tresses dyed with highlights of a silver white to stand in almost dire contrast to the rest of it. Her face is well proportioned, with angular cheekbones and a small petite nose. Lips are plump and soft, and usually painted a plum colour as if afraid yet more red would undo an unspoken cosmic balance.
The pale blue of her eyes was usually darting about, the large almond hues often peering over those nearby with idle curiosity - holding an odd dull glow when she slipped into darker environs.
Her build was curvaceous and those long legs carried her about the world with due ease. . . But not often would she be caught wearing heels, and if she was then a small wobble in her step was probably noted. Much preferring a pair of soft, brown leather boots. Her chest was heavy and full, though her waist wasn't all too tapering, seeming toned and quite muscled by some mixture of exercise and bloodline. Hips blossomed outward in a feminine fashion all the same, a decidedly large, thick rump filling out her skirts and trousers with ease.
It wouldn't be too difficult to note the presence of a large, deviant swelling between her thighs, which when exposed seemed to inherit the same bestial traits as those furred equine ears.

Next you may well ask just what the hell Jacinth was? Alas, her reply may seem as withering and strained as any written here. She quite simply didn't have a word for it, but there she was all the same; some uniquely local creature of mingled blood appearing slightly fed up of justifying just what she was - rather than whom.
Her manner seemed rather pleasant, if sometimes prone to rambling - a slightly Sabani undertone lilted in her voice at times, even more so when she seemed to have a frayed temper.

[Lights]: You'll get told if I don't like it. Other than that common sense should dictate what belongs in the bedroom and what doesn't.