The Head Matriarch Healey.

A plump, middle aged woman of typical dress who appears to believe, truly believe, that she’s a lioness god. If anyone in the room knew enough to recall her plain, aging appearance, her graying hair, fleshy jowls, and wrinkled face not stern, but not kindly, it would be hard to cower when she screamed at you. It would be irritating, this old frumpy woman screaming about your impetuosity. So too would be the case had she felt the way she truly looked. Perhaps then, her screams would shrink into meek and uncertain whispers.

But this plump, middle aged woman, she believes she’s a lioness of a nature most divine. And so she appears as such, and she roars as such.

And everyone in the room, even the strong, capable, young people, withdraw nervously into their shadows as she yells at them. She is a divine lioness to them, too