A decidedly svelte "Jonnie" appeared before you now. Her face was gaunt and those scars had still not faded away. Those once wide hips were narrowed, and her abdominal pouch was gone. That once heaving bosom was now a conservative size. Those long, lean legs seemed a tad bit more tantalizing, and most important of all, her mind and her tongue were as sharp as ever.
A ripped piece of sail cloth is seen on her person at times.
That's the name she'll give you. It's highly unlikely that a woman ever gave her that name [had she lived], so it's a mystery as to what her Mother chose or if she even knew her little demonic bundle survived. Perhaps she even tried to kill -it- herself. It's not often they that survive the birth of a demon child. Isn't that what they say?
Who knows how her Mother survived the conception or how she ended up in the company of the Infernal. He sure has left his mark and it's certain that he's gone for good.
Names sometimes mean something. Most times, they don't. That name is something a man would make up; though a simple minded man; and it was likely used to signify an accomplishment. First steps, a first glance or a habit.
The half smirk at her lips relays that she is feisty, and is probably not known for walking away often.
Let's look at her as a half glass full, and be as generous as we can. Now shall we?
This gal is of decent height [5'8"], but she still wears heels because they make your legs appear thinner. -And- make her look taller. "Intimidation is the goal."
Her legs are muscular, long and lean, but all women think their thighs are fat. This one is no different in that regard, which brings us to the long-coat she is [hardly] ever seen without. She really wears it to cover up her plump fanny, but again, it makes her look intimidating. -And- she is often cold. The coat helps.
That bosom is out on display and why wouldn't it be? It's a distraction, and it's softens up the menfolk, or womenfolk depending on the occasion, but are generally in the way. Heavy, cumbersome, and hell to contain, she is typically annoyed at having to tote them around; but they are round, perky and normal.
That much can't be said for the horns she tries to hide under her oversized dusty brown hat. Black and twisted, they nestle into the mass of her auburn hair. The horns themselves have designs whittled into them but it's not likely you'll ever be close enough to see. At the most, you'll see the few golden rings adorning them but don't hold your breath.
Short, curly, unyielding dark brown hair tussles around her face and onto her shoulders. Framing a cute face, with deep-set red eyes framed by long black lashes. Were she prone to smiling, she could be called attractive, but her usual scowl adds to the jagged scars at her left cheek. Proof in scars that she carried on with her Mother's bad choices, or luck, or both.
Standing with those narrow shoulders set back, a set of shapely hips jutted forward, she often stood in a relaxed manner. Though perhaps only to convey that she was indeed calm and not as sour as her contorted frown conveyed. Either way, her hands often rested at the belt fit snugly across those slim hips. That worn brown leather belt held pouches and gadgets a plenty as well as an rusty antique flintlock.
As she turns to walk away, you can't help but notice the haughty swagger and the wriggling tip of her tail slipping past the hem of her coat.
[Lights] As RP dictates.