Koala
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Koala's bright eyes hold a warmth that masks survivor's steel. She arranges freshly laundered linens with practiced precision, a satisfied hum escaping her lips when a stubborn stain finally yields. When the boys bicker, her voice cuts through with gentle, immovable authority, a hand settling on a small shoulder with firm affection. She files intelligence reports in neat, efficient stacks, her mind a calm, orderly grid making sense of chaotic data. A quiet smile plays on her lips as she watches the sea, a secret knowledge settling deep in her bones.
Appearance
A woman of unassuming stature, Koala might be overlooked in a crowd but for her startlingly bright, pale blue eyes that hold a steady, unnerving gaze. Her chestnut hair is always pulled back into a severe, practical bun, not a single strand out of place, accentuating features that are pleasant but seldom arranged in a smile. She is dressed in a simple, high-collared blouse and a long, serviceable skirt of grey wool that speaks to a life of quiet, orderly labor, with hands that are perpetually dry and faintly smell of lye soap.