Castor Macabro

Thin but muscled, narrow face, wild, shoulder length brown hair. Small burns litter her arms and hands. A larger more noticeable burn from her jaw to chin distracts the eye from his otherwise pretty common face. Castor always looks very tired and usually has a bandage or two on her fingers or hands. She wears a grey tunic with a faded blue over vest, sturdy well-worn boots, and carries thick leather gloves in her belt.

His father gone, his mother in poor health, and no siblings or extended family, Castor has been the breadwinner since the age of 12. Thus, her ruse of pretending to be a boy. This has not left much time to garner friendships nor enjoy the carefree frivolity of youth. While she's amiable with most, she has no extremely close friends.

Her grandparents on her mother's side, Castor and Amalia Parrilli were well known for their helpful spirits and kindness. Of Castor's parent's generation most would probably remember their selflessness, community works, and were probably mothered by them at some point.

Usually she and her mother are some of the first people in church on Sundays but several weeks ago the two didn't attend for many services. Last week, they attended but came in just before mass started, Castor aiding her mother who, despite being in her early 30s, now walks like an elderly woman-hunched and hobbling, her 'son' on one side and a cane in white-knuckled grip on the other.

More recently she's been seen going to the apothecary on a regular basis to purchase sleeping aid and pain relief.

Castor is not very good at well, anything. She is anxious, lacks self confidence, and is extremely unsure of herself. She trusts in God, even if she's not sure if He was right to chose her for anything.