You'd think that the first thing you would see would be the dimly glowing halo over her head.

It isn't the case.

Your gaze is drawn instead to her eyes, glimmering, softly glowing chips of azure blue. They have a liquid, depthless quality to them, the patterns always shifting as the light they emanate twists and turns. They're tired. Weary.

She holds the gaze of someone who's lived in an untenable state for far too long, one that struggles with every day. You find it hard to look into those eyes, and harder still to look away. The halo, then, offers you something to tear your attention away to. It hovers over her head, a band of shimmering light and glowing runes; strange, you'd expect it to be brighter. It flares in combat, certainly, but otherwise seems.. tarnished, somehow. Dulled, and almost battered in a way. You begin to suspect that she's not a wholly pure celestial anymore..

Voluminous wings spread forth from her back, their soft feathers black and silver, with a slight metallic cast that causes each individual surface of the myraid quills to glitter and gleam with every flicker of torchlight, and every step she takes, though the blackened feathers seem to absorb more light than they reflect. They don't seem normal for a celestial, but they take up almost half of her wings. Curious.

Her hair is the colour of dying ashes, grey and ever so faintly shot through with black. It's held in a perfectly sensible bun by a black silk ribbon, the lengths hanging down between her wings. The ears are pointed, though she's built much more like a human than an elf.

Flawless, bronzed skin is stretched smoothly taut over corded musculature, every inch of her body calling to mind statues of other divine beings, giving you insight into the inspiration behind their creation. Most of that body is encased in golden armour, accented with shining silver. It gives no hint as to anything hidden beneath, but one can never tell without seeing for themselves, can they? Her breasts are more easily gauged; they're of a sensible proportion, keeping in line with her combat-suited mortal shell, though perhaps they've swollen just a touch larger than they ought to have.. a further hint of the undercurrent of corruption she only barely manages to mask.

Her weapon is a curious affair of wood, looking to be little more than an elaborately carved quarterstaff. Being an extension of her will, it comes and goes as needed, seemingly able to alter its length and thickness on command. It glows with a golden light, shot through with strands of blackness and red, and holy runes are etched along its surface. Though, they seem to have been faded and worn from centuries, possibly millenia spent amongst the mortal planes.

To those of a more Astrally-minded persuasion, she would glow with radiant magic. It's clear enough that the crude flesh and blood is a vessel for a more luminous being, though that divine light is even more tainted and near-ruined than the physical indications would lead one to believe. Once, she may well have been a fount of radiance, but now she's perched precariously between light and shadow. One solid push is all it might take to shove her either way; either to bring her back into grace, or force her to finish her fall.

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Reds: Males, Herms, Scat.
Greens: Virtually everything else.

Character is dominant, but not necessarily into D/s depending on her mood. If you have any questions, feel free to ask; I don't mind tells in the slightest.