Silver hair tumbles down past the backs of her knees, it in fine curls. Golden eyes peer about with an age-old beauty, holding what can only be known as vast amounts of wisdom. She wears a dress of a dull gray, it reaching past her ankles, flowing about her slender form; the sleeves billow out around her arms, they not clinging in any way as they seem more like the sleeves of a robe than anything. She walks barefoot, not wanting, nor needing, shoes or boots. She walks with an inhumanly grace, each step taken carefully, as if where her foot was going to land is thought out before it is actually taken. The young woman looks to be around the age of nineteen, though it was hard to tell ... She seems neither young nor old, she seems at first glance like a young woman, though her eyes tell her to be old, much older than a human could ever possibly be, while her actions show her to be young, like that of a child with the innocence of which she acts. Four fingers and toes adorn small hands and feet oddly enough upon her small four-foot-seven form, something which is not seen real often, this unusual number of digits.
(Coming Soon)