(The "C" in "Ctisipha" is silent, and the "ph" is a solid "p")
Behold, the elf. Ctisipha was pale, as elves are wont to be, with her hair and flesh a uniform white. Her lips and eyes, the former painted to match the latter, were a startling red, standing out from the rest of her face like blood spilt on the snow. While most elves were lithe, Ctisipha was toned; with arms and legs that look strong enough to endure the sort of strong breeze that would knock her kin over, she appeared to be quite strong. Not quite as strong as orcs and other monsters, but close.
A cursory glance told a story of a mixed heritage. Red eyes werent a common trait among surface elves, but were quite common among the Drow. Neither was pale flesh a common symptom of Underdark blood. To this end, her posture and expression lacked the haughty confidence of the Drow, yet maintained the brooding silence often associated with the Dark.
Height was a fickle thing, the bringer of security and the destroyer of egos. Ctisipha stood proud at a measely 5'3. To make up for a deficiency in stature, she wore two-handed sword on her back; high heels were not in this mutts wardrobe. Indeed, she stubbornly pent up her best assets in armor, leaving Ctisiphas more intimate details a secret.
But once trust was gained, oh how juicy those secrets were.