Villager: Chamomile
Desdon
10
Villager Info
ID: #52277
Name: Chamomile
Gender: Female
Location: Quetzal Palace
Born 9 years, 5 months ago
Career: Explorer
Owner: musamow
Species: Mustelid
Color: Chocolate
Buffs:House: FurCoin House
Career (View All)
About
Chamomile enjoys the taste of trash, and is, in fact, an opossum, masquerading in the guise of a ferret. Despite how much Thera says how this is a safe place, Chamomile ain’t buying it. Everyone wants to know everything about everyone, and that isn’t right. Only /she/ has the right to know everything, and no one else.
She was an informant *one of the best, if she could say so herself) in the Capital, praying and worshipping no other gods save for the trash that was her food and her home, and the money she got for her services. However, she was chased out of the city one night, and arrived at this sanctuary, beaten and bruised, but still alive and craving vengeance like a sweet fruit.
Thera might try and convert her to the way of the angels. But what Chamomile has planned to do to avenge her humiliation is /certainly/ not good.
She’s often a freeloader, doing much of nothing and only exploring on her whims, but, at least, she needs nothing but the trash that the village produces regularly.
She nips at the heels of those to deny her putrid delicacy, and, behind a small stature and a high pitched voice, she hides shining blades and staring eyes. She doesn't talk much about her childhood, her life, always spins it around and lies as easily as she breathes. But a thing she knows and won't allow much of anyone to know, was that she was just as small as a child. But weaker, much weaker, and that's the reason why she feels nothing in her legs, that they give mechanical hums and purrs in an age where a god's favour is the cure to all ills.
Chamomile has a history with a villager of a neighbouring town, and often can be seen wandering over to the village, to glimpse that handsomely furred cat and groan at her attempts to govern her minions. And, of course, to snipe and tease her, because what else is a former city big wig to do but torment a sleuth?
She was an informant *one of the best, if she could say so herself) in the Capital, praying and worshipping no other gods save for the trash that was her food and her home, and the money she got for her services. However, she was chased out of the city one night, and arrived at this sanctuary, beaten and bruised, but still alive and craving vengeance like a sweet fruit.
Thera might try and convert her to the way of the angels. But what Chamomile has planned to do to avenge her humiliation is /certainly/ not good.
She’s often a freeloader, doing much of nothing and only exploring on her whims, but, at least, she needs nothing but the trash that the village produces regularly.
She nips at the heels of those to deny her putrid delicacy, and, behind a small stature and a high pitched voice, she hides shining blades and staring eyes. She doesn't talk much about her childhood, her life, always spins it around and lies as easily as she breathes. But a thing she knows and won't allow much of anyone to know, was that she was just as small as a child. But weaker, much weaker, and that's the reason why she feels nothing in her legs, that they give mechanical hums and purrs in an age where a god's favour is the cure to all ills.
Chamomile has a history with a villager of a neighbouring town, and often can be seen wandering over to the village, to glimpse that handsomely furred cat and groan at her attempts to govern her minions. And, of course, to snipe and tease her, because what else is a former city big wig to do but torment a sleuth?
