At a casual glance, Bijou could easily be mistaken for a petite elven woman. Indeed, there are whispers that she may once have been exactly that. Whatever truth lies in those rumors, however, has long since been obscured by stranger things.

She is small of stature and delicately built, possessing the graceful proportions of a dancer. Silken black hair frames a pale, porcelain face, its elegant features accented by striking cosmetics painted in the style of a tragic harlequin. Dark markings adorn her ivory skin, while a perpetual smile is carefully painted across her lips. Yet despite this cheerful facade, there is an unmistakable sadness lingering in her expression, as though she carries some private grief that even time has failed to erode.

Her eyes are perhaps her most captivating feature: a soft, icy blue, bright with quiet amusement. They observe the world with a patient curiosity, as though she is forever watching a performance only she fully understands.

Bijou dresses much like a ballerina of some forgotten royal court. Flowing skirts, ribbons, lace, and delicate footwear are all common elements of her attire. Her shoes force her to walk upon the tips of her toes, lending her movements an uncanny grace, as though she glides rather than walks.

Yet the feature that most quickly dispels any illusion of ordinary elven heritage lies upon her back.

Embedded between her shoulder blades is a large, ornate golden wind-up key.

It is no decorative accessory. The key is a true part of her being.

To all outward appearances, Bijou possesses the body of a living creature. Her skin is warm to the touch, her features soft and natural, and her anatomy entirely that of a flesh-and-blood woman. Yet she does not seem to require food, sleep, or even breath. Wounds inflicted upon her produce no blood, and she endures hardships that would fell most mortal beings without complaint. Whatever force animates her is neither wholly mechanical nor wholly magical, but something stranger still.

Bijou herself offers few answers.

She is an exceptionally quiet being, speaking only rarely and always in a voice so soft it resembles a whisper carried upon the wind. Whether this silence stems from shyness, sorrow, or secrets better left untold, none can say.

Whatever Bijou truly is, elf, construct, spirit, or something else entirely, she remains a mystery wrapped in silk ribbons, painted smiles, and the gentle turning of a golden key.

Lore:
-The key does not keep her alive; however, when the need to be rewound occurs, Bijou ceases to move, speak, or react in any immediately noticeable way until she is wound again. She is, during this time, fully aware. She can see, hear, taste, and feel. Her body does react to some things, though these remain to be discovered IC.

-The makeup that decorates her pale face is not makeup at all. Rather, her skin seems to simply be those colours in those places. It doesn't smear when touched or fade over time, nor can it be scrubbed off in any way. That is just her face.

-Bijou is cursed. It is a particularly potent curse, as it seems thus far no manner of spell or prayer has been able to remove it from her. Part of her curse prevents her from winding her own key.

Lights:

Reds are few and far between. Don't break server rules, and no scat.

Yellows are also pretty few. Permanent things should be discussed first, including permadeath. It's such a story killer, but in the right situation, I suppose it is still fair.

Greens are many, from soft, sweet vanilla play to as dark and vicious as you can think of. I am very much a "Yes, and..." sort of player. I love a good story and will happily play along with an interesting idea. If you have any questions, please feel free to send a tell for a little more detail on these.