This slightly diminutive woman, young looking by the standards of any race, carries herself in a predatory prowl, a feline stalk marked by an astute linger to her every step.

Her unnatural, disarming, ivory eyes stare out with expressions both of interest and aloofness. They're often surrounded by tactfully applied eye shadow, ranging from a dark red to a bold mahagony to compliment the very slight bronze of her skin. Her thin lips are sometimes pursed, pink and thoughtful as they sit restlessly underneath her sharp nose.

This woman's dark-brown hair falls at about shoulder length (with some variation), often unkempt. Portions of it are braided, whilst others willfully encourage the rebellion of its strands in a curly little battle for control. Two rounded ears poke out from beneath the warzone, pierced and studded as most fashionable women should have it.

Her body; however, tells a vastly different story than her face. For her height, she's indeed chesty, where one can imagine her breasts resting at more than a handful each. Her form, otherwise, is exceptionally lean and exercised. Her rear is firm and pear-shaped, the contour of it often accentuated beneath tight fitting leathers and trousers. The whole of her upper-back speaks of a sad tale, gashed and wounded with various unhealing scars that contrast sharply against her otherwise smooth and immaculate skin. At times, Ves may bear the scars uncaringly, while at others she'll go to lengths to hide them.

Her voice carries on as one would expect, with the appropriate amount of sultry wit in her tone, often accompanied by a comically cynical smirk.