Re: Jasper Sorenson - D10 - DONE

Jasper is Caucasian and of bulky build, standing at 5'11" and weighing 200 pounds. It is evident that more than a few of these pounds have been converted into bulging muscles on his thick limbs, although there is a bit of "padding" on his torso. He has small hands that appear to be browned permanently through years of being muddied by hard labour. His fingers are short and stubby, and the nails are usually bitten back so far that no dirt could get under them. Jasper has a classic farmer's tan: his face and arms from the elbow down are well sunned, but the rest of his body is far paler, resulting in odd, sudden changes in skin tone above the elbows and at the bottom of the neck. His face is quite hard, not at all pudgy, with a strong jaw, wicked nose and tight lips. Often seen sporting a beard, he typically keeps it quite tight, never allowing it to become much more than a stubble. He wears his dark brown hair in much the same way, closely cropped. Not much is done to fashion it, Jasper usually just runs a hand through it when he rises in the morning.

Jasper has four identical pairs of earth-coloured cotton trousers that he wears for work and leisure, switching from one to the next when the pong of oxen manure becomes overpowering. At least, when he presumes it's overpowering, he has long sense grown immune to the smell. He also wears a shirt neatly tucked into his trousers, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the top button undone, and a pair of solid, well made shoes. He finds that this ensemble works just as well for work in the fields as it does for wandering around the district's markets or lounging about at home, so he has never felt the urge to buy any other garments.

Jasper is the quiet sort. In the manner that's typical of the majority of farmers in District 10, he thinks of himself as being married to his work; it's an attitude that is quite necessary to successfully manage a herd of livestock that need round the clock care. But while others let themselves loose to release the stress that their profession builds up, whether it be through drinking in the local tavern, playing cards or spending the night with the missus, Jasper does not. He has no real friends; acquaintances from the agricultural markets are the height of it, and he interacts with them solely to barter.

He feels entirely uneasy while amongst crowds of people. He finds humans to be so unpredictable; any given action could have any of a handful of reactions. Jasper likes to be in control; he plans his whole day of work out in his head before even rising from bed, working out any possible complications that may occur, and how to counteract them. It is for this reason that he feels that the less time he has to spend with people, the better. In fact, he is of the opinion that he understands the members of his herd infinitely better than he could ever understand another person.

With regards to leisure, Jasper doesn't really have any hobbies. He will often spend his free hours just wandering indifferently around the plains, going wherever his feet take him as his mind wanders from being incredulous at the flight of a bumble bee to pondering what would be the most efficient number of tines on a fork. A combination of this absent-mindedness when he doesn't have a determined job to do and a failure to comprehend the murky depths of social convention result in Jasper being flat out difficult to have a conversation with, never mind build a relationship with.

Jasper had performed little jobs around the farm since he could walk, but the full load of labour fell on him as a 13-year old, and only child in the family, when his father began to suffer from debilitating arthritis. Luckily, he seemed to have an aptitude for herding similar to that that is seen bred into young sheepdogs. Such was the cost of the medicine that Mr. Sorenson required, though, that they had to sell the pride of the herd: a 2,500 pound bull that had been kept from the slaughterhouses for years as a stud.

While this meant that, with the help of the medicine, Mr. Sorenson could return to a semblance of his former self, they were now without a means of breeding new livestock. So, it was decided by Jasper's parents that he would be predestined to marry Julia, the lone heir-to-be of Victor Knudsen, the dying owner of what happened to be an utterly magnificent handful of stud bulls. Before Jasper could utter a protest, the whole thing was arranged, and in no time at all the years flew by, and by the end of it Knudsen was in his grave, the Sorenson's had their stud and when he turned eighteen, to his disbelief, Jasper had a ring on his finger.

It wasn't that Jasper hated Julia. He wasn't opposed to the idea of marriage, but this seemed all too contrived. By all accounts she was stunningly pretty and appeared to have good wide hips for child-bearing. His father assured him of this, that this was what was best for him, fighting against Jasper's reluctance. But despite his lack of love for the woman, or even a liking for her, the marriage went ahead. Even in the year that they had been married, Jasper learned next to nothing about the woman. Granted, he hadn't exactly endeavoured to ask her anything about herself, having spent his days working in the fields, but still. Every night he still had to force himself not to freak out at the idea of sleeping in a bed with someone else. It was awkward enough when she kissed him, never mind when she broached the topic of... the other thing.

Jasper soon realised that this was not perfect, that the childhood notion of winding up with a woman he shared dreams and aspirations with was now impossible, that he'd have to move on and make the best of the hand he was dealt. At least she made a damn good stew.