Johanne (Joh) Bry
Human Female
28Position: Cook
Appearance: Johanne's wardrobe consists of a an odd amalgamtion of 'twenty-something-thrift' (very used clothes, fake satchels and bags, etc.) and her mother's traditional Haitian garb. Joh's still not sure if they were left for her but since her death they have become somewhat of a personal token, regardless of her mother's post-mortum opinions (sometimes she's sure her mother would contest: "Look'at'ya, ya wearin idt all wrong!). Caribbean flared head wraps will usually don her flowing braids, and ALWAYS when at work in the galley.
Personality: A wildcard with a heart of gold. Pleh - I assume that won't do?
Fine.
Joh has the unwavering quality of being a fairly unpredictable lass. She has a fleeting sense of identity that becomes more concrete to her when she's with others. Whether that be family, friends, and yeah, even the strangers she brushes shoulders with in the grungy clubs of the city. Joh finds something oddly meaningful in a group of strangers leaving their bullshit at the doors, slamming back some liquor, and enjoying whatever shit band or DJ is filling out a venue. Ultimately she longs for the support of a community and to put her efforts towards something self-sustained and new, though sometimes her rougher exterior prevents her from finding it.
Tough. A quality undoubtedly instilled from long before her formative years. Growing alongside older brothers that thanks to genetics and a general disinterest in ANYTHING academic - and not to mention a penchant for ANYTHING competitive (including, but not limited to: who could recieve the least whoopings from Pop in any given week) - she never totally understood the other girls she grew up with. Instead she eventually found her place when she was approached by Jess, the captain of J. Taft High's girls rugby team.
Biography: Johanne had the all too common fate of being born into a dreadfully poor family. Four (essentially) cloned brothers preceded her own birth, a day that had been momentarily feared and braced by the already too cramped apartment. Her father died before setting eyes on his only daughter and she curses him for it still, feeling rather insignificant for being the only child to miss on knowing him.
Her mother (a stern but loving woman) had to whip them all into shape. No damn way in this blasted universe was she to even consider being overruled by the four Bry brothers. Their mother was not afraid of the hulking brothers, the brothers were afraid of a mother's wrath. There was a period where the eldest Bry thought he was slick for skipping his classes, choosing to spend his days passing time at the local park (something about the proximity to their apartment made it even cooler to the poor kid). It didn't last too long. You don't typically repeat said actions after fully sinking the visual of your own mother, clad in that morning's nightgown, brandishing a thick wooden pizza-roller while carving through the sidewalk commute. You, also, don't typically hang out with those class-cutters anymore.
They owned