The Umbrella Girl is now manager of the Sinifer Homeless Shelter.

There she is again, the scrawny little ragamuffin slipping along in the shadows, keeping to herself when not trying to hustle up some donations for the homeless shelter, or attempting to assist those in need of aid.  And occasionally peddling umbrellas.  

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She looks like a young human girl, 18 or so, and tends to be a bit scruffy, in clothes that have seen better days.  Her rarely seen smile shows good teeth, and she manages to keep mostly clean, smelling faintly of the cheap soap found in public baths and shelters.
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The rumour is she's just another lost soul, an orphan from elsewhere who turned up in the old Soup Kitchen one cold winter night, and now spends her time trying to aid those down on their luck.
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Go ahead, scroll to the bottom for lights.
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On closer look, a mane of unruly hair frames a soft, rounded face with a cute little nose and soft lips, often painted an odd colour.  Her blue eyes move warily, with a soft sparkle of humour, and surrounded by a bit of overzealous make-up. Her skin shows some signs of weathering, a bit too much sun and wind, but she masks it with lotions.  

Her clothing was once elegant ladies wear, but is now frayed and mended and adorned with an assortment of odd trinkets, the phrase "drunken magpie" might come to mind.  

Those with very sharp eyes might notice the bits and bobs are not shiny, are firmly attached, and do not clatter together when she moves.
Beneath the layers of threadbare finery, the discerning might determine her shape is slender, modest bosom, narrow hips, slim, graceful limbs.  Her hands show they've been working, a bit of honest callousing, her nails trimmed short and polished smooth.

Wariness is revealed in her movements, eyes flicking about, shifting foot to foot to casually glance around, almost as if she knows she is a bit of pretty prey in a city of predators.

Listening, one might learn that her laugh is light and gentle, her manners humble, and she is quick with a compliment, especially when making a sale, and despite her outlandish clothing and sacks of gear, she moves as whisper, no jangling or clattering.

Those lucky enough to see her out of clothing would find confirmation of her slim yet shapely physique.  Smooth, slightly dusky young skin, only occasionally bruised or scratched, those layers of clothing more than merely decoration, with pert breasts, small by Sinfar standards, but enough to merit a B or more, and perky nipples standing proud, perhaps it is cold?  
Sliding one's eyes down her lean belly to the gentle flare of her hips, one will see at the back a rounded bottom, at the front a prominent hairless mons masking a shy slit.  
Arms are slender, and toned, but not muscular, her legs long and slim, with a diamond-shaped gap between vulva and thighs.

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RP Notes
Shy and skittish, especially around demonics, big uglies and people who walk around town with weapons drawn.


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The Lights
Red: Server Rules, scat.
Yellow: Permanent or long-term things.
Green: RP.
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