ebon tresses starkly contrast the lone beacon of molten gold this drakanite sees the world
through. ebon clothes juxtapose flesh of cracked porcelain, coarsened by a rough life and as
and as pale as the snows of the northern mountain she hails from. ebon are the scales that
have grown over her numerous wounds, perpetual reminders of her failures and shortocmings.
she's devoid of any makeup or other such markers beyond the scratched nail polish that
adorns slender digits, the fronts of which are somewhat calloused from plucking away at
spidersilk strings. an oaken lute is affixed to her back by a thick strap of treated leather.
taking after her mother, she's very short for a drakanite, rising to only a diminutive 4'11.
athelaide andstella's
through. ebon clothes juxtapose flesh of cracked porcelain, coarsened by a rough life and as
and as pale as the snows of the northern mountain she hails from. ebon are the scales that
have grown over her numerous wounds, perpetual reminders of her failures and shortocmings.
she's devoid of any makeup or other such markers beyond the scratched nail polish that
adorns slender digits, the fronts of which are somewhat calloused from plucking away at
spidersilk strings. an oaken lute is affixed to her back by a thick strap of treated leather.
taking after her mother, she's very short for a drakanite, rising to only a diminutive 4'11.
athelaide and