Fate is a fickle force. Chance and chaos offer little comfort to most, but a rare few are able to see beneath it to the method in reality's madness, spotting the patterns and charting how things will come about through sheer intuition.

Anna... is not one of these people.

That's not to say that she doesn't have near complete control over her own fate, and an unholy influence over the statistical likelihood of virtually anything she does or comes into contact with - she does, most definitely so - but that it's reflexive and just as unfathomable to herself as to anyone else. Blades slip past her as she stumbles in combat, a sudden breeze ever so slightly misaligns an archer's aim, and that fireball sent her way seems to decide she's not really worth engulfing; pure, chaotic chance wraps about the woman in a shocking display of fortune.

To those rare few who are familiar with such things, spotting an Acanthus Mage is simple enough. Probability curves in her vicinity are so wholly broken as to be near impossible to hide; coins land on their edge, cards refuse to shuffle properly, and at least a few times someone's rolled a pair of dice and come up with double sevens. If that weren't enough, Time seems to twist and bend around her just as much as Fate; it's subtle, but every minute near the woman seems to drag on, and on. The resulting aura of strangeness is clearly magical in nature, but raw and untamed.

The woman herself stands just a touch above average height for a human female, but her weight balances that out by being quite a bit below normal. Not a trace of fat is present on her body, not even what would generally be considered healthy amounts; she bears sun-browned skin and hard muscles forged from years of exposure and harsh living, and would almost look more at home deep in the woods than in any sort of civilized location. As such, she bears few curves, and her chest is not at all the massive expanse of soft flesh that most women of the islands tend to flaunt.

Those brilliant emerald eyes, though, hold great intelligence and wonder. They're innocent, of a kind rarely seen - especially in the local cesspits that pass for cities - and practically glow with curiousity at every strange new thing they set upon, though they're tempered by a caution and wariness that only comes with decades spent scrambling to survive. The large, broad-bladed hunting knife sheathed sideways at the small of her back goes a long way to offset her otherwise happy and cheerful nature.

Her clothes are heavy and well insulated, with thick fur on the inside and well worn, but lovingly maintained leather protecting her hands and feet. The boots are sturdy and flatsoled, carrying not a hint of raised heels; like the rest of the woman, practicality and pragmatism seem to thoroughly outweigh appearances. To that end, she wears not a drop or dusting of cosmetic enhancement, displaying on her natural appearance at all times. Given the unladylike stance and general rough nature of her body, one gets the sense she might not even understand the application of such things, let alone be inclined to use them.




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Updates

The bright, emerald eyes are now subtly masked behind a pair of delicate, rectangular glasses. Rimmed with a thin black metal along the top edge, the clear lenses don't actually seem to affect her sight in any noticeable manner, but to those able to spot such things, they glow brilliantly with infused magic. Whatever the spectacles actually do, they're certainly not meant to enhance her natural vision.

Her wardrobe, at least when working the counter of the Curio shop, has undergone a significant change; some might even say improvement. Silk threads wrap around her body, though with close inspection one might realize there's something extraordinary about the cloth. It's far too light and strong to be spun from silkworm coccoons, and too expertly woven to be crafted by even the most skilled of humanoid artisans. Visions of spinnerettes and skittering legs spring terrifyingly to mind, as the woman is almost certainly clothed wholly in spidersilk. The metal components, buttons and other fasteners, are seemingly pure silver, and the soft, supple leather of her thighboots and belt have a certain scaled pattern to them that would imply dragonhide. The knife, however, remains at her back, securely fastened to that circle of reptilian leather around her waist - and another, smaller blade forged of bronze and looking extremely old is sheathed at her left hip.




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Vital Statistics

Race: Human
Gender: Female
Orientation: ?
Age: 25
Birthdate: 1822
Nationality: French Canadian
Profession: Trapper

Setting: World of Darkness
State: Awakened
Path: Acanthus

Arcana:
Fate • • •
Time • •
Space • •

Anna is a Mage in the sense that she is a magically active being. This does not necessarily mean that she's capable of actively casting spells. It manifests in her wide range of evasive capabilities; high AC, Epic Dodge, Improved Evasion, Crit/Stun immunity, and Defensive Roll. The critical hit avoidance comes in never quite being in the right place to suffer a lucky hit, rather than more usual methods, and reflexive foresight to never put herself in danger of a sneak attack. She is the ultimate lucksack, stumbling and weaving her way through life, surviving through constant coincidence and suspicious circumstance. There are always vulnerabilities, of course, but you'll have to find those out for yourself.

No lights. I don't like them. Roleplay whatever you want, if it's something I personally don't like, she'll get lucky. She'll also get lucky if I think it'll be funny. Or interesting. Or.. really whenever I feel like it. Anna is chaos and coincidence wrapped up in a polite Canadian package, and that's just the way she is. Speaking of Canadian, she has a very thick, very prounounced French accent. I don't try to type it, because it doesn't work in text all that well. Instead, I handle it through the way she speaks, intentionally twitching her grammar the wrong way to align more with how it ought to sound.