Supple polished leather pants hug her hips and melt down her long shapely legs. Legs which are poised in mid-stride. She is ready to leave, on her way out again, and turned just now to face someone behind you. From under long smoldering lashes a pair of brilliant clear blue eyes gaze defiantly. The sensuous lips, red as the flames of passion, are slightly parted, not in a smile, but as if to deliver a scathing retort. Her pale skin rises flawlessly to high, classic cheekbones, starkly beautiful against the waves of her lustrous long dark hair. Reddish chestnut highlights gleam on the curls. She wears it pulled up and back, where it falls well past her shoulders.Her black leather shirt is tailored, or rather, molded to her upper torso and covered with intricate silver detailing from her breastbone to her waist. Though designed to close at the throat, it is habitually worn open significantly further down. In one hand she holds a pair of black suede gloves. A jeweled sword in an ebony scabbard hangs comfortably from her hip.