Izrail
Portrait
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Carry me
Now, more than ever Thin are breaths of crimson air With a head kept lower than most, the young female had an extraordinary gift of keeping her features shadowed. Her rich, flaming hair did a great job playing fiery curtains to a face that was probably once quite angelic and radiant. However, a gust of wind or the unfortunate turn of her neck would reveal a now broken visage; a long and gruesome wound had rendered one of her eyes useless, now just sitting in the socket as a blue-white egg. The grievous scar began under her hair, and ran in a jagged line down across her forehead, cutting through her brow, her eye, and down her cheek. The crevice only ended in a slight curl at her chin, marring the side of her mouth in its wake. Cover me With fallen feathers Skin the last of heavens glare Her yet good eye was a brilliant topaz hue, becoming golden and aglow in the right light. A wary look often sat on her tarnished face if expression could be read at all within those heavy, ginger drapes. If seen, she looked as if she was perpetually sneering with how the side of her upper lip had been rendered slightly parted, lifted from its plump bottom sibling. Or perhaps she was just in a foul mood. After all, whatever had cleaved her face had not meant for the girl to survive the blow, but survive she had. Evidently. Color my Gloaming eye Be the gush of moaning flames She moved with caution. Skittish would be the chief attribute that came to mind at first glance. With longer observation there looked to be some greater discomfort in her movements, as though the woman suffered under constant pain, or was somehow physically injured or impaired. Release the restless roam in hands Arise all limbs of sin to the highest fall of man Creatures of a more malignant disposition may become faintly uncomfortable or vexed around Izrail as she has an intangible aura of unease coalescing around her presence for those so predisposed. This sensation escalates with a creature's innate malevolence. Some kind of residue, perhaps. It was odd, the young woman seemed mortal to those sensing that sort of thing. The beast walks with me Ghost - Cirice Kamelot - Static Agent Fresco - Let Them See Us |
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| Player: | Roses are Red, Violets are Fucking Purple |
| Gender (Visually): | Female |
| Race (Visually): | Elf |