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Post by Jay Rivers on Apr 2, 2021 22:25:09 GMT
 The Basics...
Name: Jay Ren Orchid-Rivers
Nickname: Often introduces by Rivers
Age: 22 Years Old
Birthday: Winter 27
Gender: Male
Occupation: Rancher
Appearance...
Height: 5 foot 2 inches
Weight: 135 lbs
Unique Traits: Pierced ears are sometimes hard to notice, Jay hasn't worn earrings in a long time, and while he dresses thickly, when more exposed its easy to notice the faint lines of scars that riddle him, especially long his hands and arms though several mark his calves, a few his chest and back, and two faintly across his right cheek and the left side of his jaw.
Appearance: A rangy figure, lean and wiry from years of labor, skin tanned, kissed by the sun and naturally inclined away from paleness and towards a dusky yellowed tan, toughened and weathered by wind and rain now with a rough thickness and callouses long familiar, scars and marks, silvery and pink both, like a map to some strange land. Some are old, some are new, but all are worn equally, with a casual familiarity and acknowledgement. Fingers, once fine perhaps, are now blunted and worn with use, though with surprising steadiness and dexterousness, capable of minute and intricate actions and faint light touches as much as they are the more brutish actions. Features, oddly smooth, delicate perhaps even, with high cheekbones and thin sharp brows that match a slashing mouth and a finely sloped nose, though scuffed, and often dirty, though under the scrapes and the earth can still be picked out by the sharp jawline and pronounced bones. Eyes are sharp beneath thin, often stern-set brows, their shape a subtly slanted acorn with hazel glimmering coolly from their depths, a brooding and reddish tinted brown often, but warming to a green in the sun's summery lighting at times, verdant and bright for passing moments of time. Ebony hair twists in ruffled locks, spilling free and unkempt, though cared for, short and straight and dark as a crows feathers as it falls loosely where gravity and wind will it.
Even clothing is worn and rough, and nearly unchanging, shifting with the seasons but generally the same few well worn pieces washed and worn again and again, simple thick fabrics scuffed and torn, threadbare and pockmarked in holes some places, others patched or sewn back together, yet still decidedly still largely one solid piece. A scarf, once white dotted with green perhaps, now at best a dusty off-white stained with faint dark reddish-brown that never seemed to fully wash out, a trail jacket, a plain dark green, now in similar condition, it's long sleeves ending just after dark brown leather gloves begin, under them usually a plain battered shirt, black or dark grey often though on occasion blue or green in darker hues. Or when it's warmer a sleeveless tan shirt, it's collar loose and large but the layer roomy enough to breath. Tanned cargo pants accentuate the loose bagginess of the upper half with their own slack folds, making form hard to pick out beneath the layers, and rough leather boots are fit for hiking mile after mile or being out in the fields for hours on end, though obviously some time past their prime if still in good functionality. A beanie, dark blue, is often stuffed in pockets or a bag, but still held onto and sometimes worn, especially around crowded places, and on sunny days a battered straw hat, or more often, a scuffed tan cowboy hat shade his gaze. A belt, half-hidden under the edge of the jacket or top is lined with pouches of hardened leather and bags of soft with a water bag slung completely about the left hip, and loosely a satchel hangs off one shoulder, a simple serviceable bag designed seemingly only with the purpose of being used for holding things and nothing else, with buried in it's depths a worn sketchbook and a notebook, dogeared and well used with a clutter of wooden pencils amidst all other ranching or hiking supplies.
Perhaps it would be that, in the urban environment, Jay could still pass without too much inspection, but there is an inherent wildness in him, untamed and untampered among the city buildings and society. A younger man, scuffed and ratty he may seem at first, but his poise is high, strong. Not straight or prideful, but almost in permanent relaxed tension and with a certain self-awareness and strength about it, like a cat ready to spring, shoulders loose and weight often shifted to one foot and an easy lounging to him, most comfortable leaning against something, yet never truly as relaxed as the pose should suggest, eyes always alert, always sharp, always stiff even with the fluidity and surety of his movements, rolling in an even smooth rhythm.
Even a voice, not necessarily low, and rolling, has a gruffness to it, like one who has not used it much, one to whom the act of speaking is uncommon. Features are rarely expressive, often icy or stony with a gaze to match, and far quicker to change to annoyance or darken then they are to relax their stern set or brighten. Quick reactions and instinctual movements also betray his nature, subtle sharp movements, the curl of lips into sneers with bared teeth, the attentiveness to watch body language or size someone up within an instant of greeting before anything else.
Personality...
Likes: Rain, Quiet, Solitude, Animals, Cats, Order, Directness, Efficiency, Riding
Dislikes: Crowds, Idle chatter, Cowardice, Drama, Gossip, Chaos, Disorganization, Over-Modernization, Hot days, Slush
Fears: Being unable to take care of himself/manage his own things, being like his father
Goals: Raise a good ranch, manage to set himself up independently, raise hardy and healthy animals.
Personality: To a more modern standard Jay is wild, uncultured, and cold. Temptation would lead one to diagnose him as a sociopath or assign some medical condition to explain this, to find the way his brain does not function correctly to make him 'normal.' Isolation is his tormentor though, and no chemical imbalance or gene can explain, nor any drug fix, nor should even want to change it. There is no hate towards people, but perhaps, a more gentle and subtle animosity. An alienation. No longer is Jay quite one of them, quite the same as them, and it has made him lonely, and in his loneliness now he finds his comfort, believing himself to belong to it, submitting himself to the call of the wilderness and letting nature lead and guide him, to train him and form him to be of her own children, using work, the wilderness, and animals to fill his life and keep him from ever wanting for much.
Towards most, they will only ever see an ever-present slight scowl on a stony face, only ever know Jay as a solitary wanderer who is happy to tread his path alone, dedicated to his work but always on his own. People bother him easily, their brashness, their loudness, their carelessness. They talk too much, lie too much, trust too much. They are caught up too much in their own world that they fail to be a part of the world around them. For the most part Jay detests interaction that does not have a pointed and fixed goal, and often is annoyed when others try to help him or try to talk to him without wanting some important business. Cynical, he believes always that another has ulterior motive, edging always to caution and watching every movement with wary eyes ready to distrust, ready to give reason to leave, to snap out, to distance himself. Silent, serious, and cold, there is a certain precision about him, everything is done for a reason, and everything is done efficiently and swiftly, nothing left to chance, but nothing lingered on either, detached and impassive.
Towards some Jay can be intimidating, a monster, a predatory thing no longer quite human. While not impressive in size or appearance, there is something in his manner, the way he rarely reacts, the way he never smiles, and something in his lack of care for others. It's less that he won't help another, if anything he seems to be often quite willing, more that even when he does so, he doesn't seem to care, his movements remaining cold even in an act that should symbolize kindness. It's actions without emotion, empty and almost just like he is following something scripted. And it's the fact that with the same detachment and lack of care he could hurt someone. While he may not actively seek to hurt others without a pressing cause, there is something in his manner that shows a lack of trepidation about having to go there, a lack of the normal hesitation that lingers there with doubt. In the same manner he seems not to fear his own harm, or at least, not be intimidated easily, though certainly he does know fear its not a feeling easily elicited, and even when it is it's usually faced with a sort of grimness, of determination or of acceptance, and an iron resolve. In such a manner he is stoic about his own injuries as well, often it is even hard to tell he is suffering at all so silently he does it, something unnerving to most, and hinting of danger, unstopped by an inner conscious or even bodily harm seemingly.
But to those that know Jay when he feels most at home, most natural, might know him differently. They might see how easily he breaths when surrounded by nature, how naturally he walks the woods, how familiar he is to the wild, how... comfortable he is. They might see how he can be delicate and caring to an injured animal, or how careful he is when he tracks ferals or tends to his ranch or even wild creatures and plants. They might see him relax and let down his guard, but notice how his alertness, his guardedness, comes more from a survival instinct driven within him, how he moves as though he were a creature himself, alert, wary, quick. How he's careful, and steady, how he can move silently and blend with the woods, how he can still himself so that even his breath is unnoticeable and he blends with his surroundings. How calm his spirit is, how he has a natural understanding of animals, different from some who are used to farm life and bred beasts, more primal, more a deep connection then a masterly bond, an empathy then an ownership.
They might see him smile, and they might come to realize that Jay speaks only when needed because it's unnecessary otherwise, that he knows other ways to communicate, that he's in tune with more than just the obvious. That in truth, he is simple, and direct, and honest. And how he feels like he has to hide, has to escape, that he has to lock away so much of himself. How lonely he is, and how much he has stopped even realizing it. And, yet, perhaps most surprising to most, how he truly does not hate people though he may act it. He makes himself a hard one to love, and he shows outwardly no mercy, no hesitation, when the going gets harsh and the hard choices must be made, but he rarely goes out of his way to attack another and tends to save violence to a last resort, if anything playing mediator or distancing himself, harsh in his words but logical and clear in his mind and actions.
Background...
Family:
Kistaya Orchid (Mother, Deceased)
Jayla Rivers (Step-Mother)
Rinkagi Rivers (Father)
Nagari Rivers (Older Brother) History: When one is born to a legacy, a name, they are expected to live up to it, to follow the path laid before them and tread the footprints their lineage has before them. To be a great warrior, to be a corporation leader and businessman, or the pursue the medical field, it didn't matter save the expectation. The assumption. The pressure. The demand. It doesn't matter if there is no passion, no desire, or even no want for it, because to deny it is to deny everything else. To bring down the pillars of glory and be heretic to the name, to everything that has come before, to those who stand to it and champion it. To those who are supposed to love you and encourage you. Those you are supposed to be able to trust.
Oh how Jay knew this the day he finally stuffed some supplies and clothing into a beat-up rucksack and slammed the door behind him, no goodbye, no note, and no regrets save he hadn't left earlier. He knew no one would miss him, certainly not a father he could barely spend a day with without breaking into argument and yelling over his refusal to conform to their path and his failures compared to all those oh so exalted before him. Certainly not a mother not even his own anymore, though she had certainly tried to take over everything as though she was. He had taken his true mother's name as his own, a second surname of her maiden, to remember her and keep her close when everyone seemed to only want to forget the gentle, if frail, woman. And certainly not a brother, the one 'true' son his 'parents' had, the one who had gone to prestigious schooling and dutifully followed the path laid out before him, constantly condescending and dissapointed that Jay couldn't just do the same.
It had always been a struggle for Jay though. And when he was stressed, he had always turned to nature, hiking trails and taking impromptu camping trips. Out in the middle of nowhere there was no one to bother you. No one to yell at you, to tell you what to do. No one to try and pick fights with you and bully you. No expectations or constant stress, none of the stupid social games or social conventions. He had always liked that. Nature took you as you were, and presented itself in like manner. It was a harsh yet beautiful thing, and it was an escape from the world he knew.
When grades could never seem to meet expectations, and when dreams differed from plans, the contention began. When Jay's mom passed while he was still a child, it only got worse now that no one was there to temper the flame from rising. Blood ran hot on both sides, and turning to a teen, rebellion flared to the point of barely living at home at all and any conversation edged with conflict ready to rise. Finally, with a part time job saving him enough money, Jay got himself out. He lived scarcely, camping out in the woods, and cut or let fade almost all of his connections. He knew the forest and it's ways enough to gather plants and berries and fruits to help spread out more his small stash of cash.
Not that he could stay a hermit forever. Jay stagnated a while, dark moods taking him, and let the wilderness cleanse him, calm him. Eventually he found his center again, and he made plans. He found a job as a farmhand when his money ran dry finally, and for a while he experienced the ranch life, adjusting back to be in society slowly and letting the distraction of caring for cows and sheep and the training of horses and dogs distract him and keep him busy. It was hands on and physical work, and he enjoyed it, finding comfort in the good and simple and direct work. Eventually he saved enough money, and the man who owned the farm gave him a suggestion. Tranquil island had new farmland open. If he really wanted to pursue this, he should try getting his own farm. Jay didn't wait for the chance to pass, packing what little he had and heading out to see if he couldn't make something on his own now.
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