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Though a few things changed colors previous to this, this was the first time Valta's description really changed at all. She had been in several fights of late, then was arrested and imprisoned by Verminasia's Admiral, and almost died in jail of a punctured lung. She was essentially kidnapped form the jail by Ebyn Taba and taken to Arkane, where she then chose to live and is still residing. This ensemble followed a blood sacrifice she gave the night she joined Arkane in which she sliced open most of her body, including a new cut to the face.
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Eyes: black______________________Hair: black
Skin: pale_______________________Hair Length: Waist-Long
Build: Slender____________________Hair Texture: Straight
Face: Distinguished
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Profession: Pirate__________Age: 25__________Sex: Female
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The first thing one would notice about Valtameri is her height. She
could easily look most men in the eye, and stare down at the rest. And,
from her usual expression, whoever she is staring at should be jumping to
follow her commands.
Her features would be described as beautiful, with high, almost delicate
cheekbones and arched black brows. A smooth forehead tips into a refined
nose, and her elegant ears are each adorned with gleaming pieces of silver The right holds four lustrous rings in the lobe, decreasing in size as they
move away from her cheek. Above these, the cartilage holds a delicate
piece of metal curled through two holes and intertwined to create one ring
The left ear holds five silver studs, the fifth holding a miniscule black
stone reminiscent of obsidian. The left cartilage holds two piercings, a
thick stud and a small but solid hoop above it. Two empty pools of pitch
black serve as her eyes, the gleam within them echoing the proud set of her
full lips. There is no distinction between the pupils and irises, the
stygian shades blended together as one. And often a ripple or twist like liquid
will flow amid them. A palely crimson scar rides in a vertical line over
her right eye, slicing through her eyebrow and down her cheek, somehow
amplifying her disdainful expression. A much fresher cut slices horizontally across her cheek just beneath her eye and over the bottom of the first scar, creating some semblance of an upside down cross.
Rich ebony hair flows down the length of her body to pool about the small of
her back. It forms a prolonged stygian sea, broken only by a brilliantly
white streak arching from her right brow. This spectral color is echoed in
her drastically pale skin: she is striking moonlight framed by the midnight
of her locks. Her form is lean, a fighter's figure with numerous
well-defined muscles adorning long and graceful limbs, all under distinctly
feminine curves. Her gait could be called flowing, as if belonging to one
who had spent much of their life on the deck of a ship or the back of a
horse.
Not seen recently in armor, or her usual apparel, Valtameri now wears a top of thick brocaded silk, dyed a deep green like moss hidden within a forgotten wood. The collar is high, with silver hook closures against the back of her neck. Its edges leave her shoulders and upper back bare, the front flowing down over her ample chest to hug close to her midsection and lower back. Long ribbons of the same silk wrap about her stomach, holding the fabric close to her skin, much like an obi. The sleeves are not attached, but merely tied to her upper biceps and left to drape loosely down to about mid-palm. Lines of linen bandages are hidden beneath the layer of cloth, going up her arms from mid forearm to mid bicep. More are wrapped about her palms. Beneath the top, deep ashen trousers of similar silk hug close to her hips and flare out as they move downward to drape about her feet clad in black satin slippers, barely peeking from beneath the folds of material. Large slices have been cut into the sides of the voluminous pants from hip to ankle so that flashes of well-formed and bandaged legs appear with each step. The only familiar aspect of her clothing is the thick black leather belt slung over her hips, chain links gleaming as if recently polished, and the swords at her sides, longsword comfortably on her left and sabre on her right.
Also familiar is the bare expanse of her shoulder blades, pale skin stretching from shoulders to midback. If, by chance her hair is swept aside, one can catch a glimpse of a breathtakingly detailed tattoo of two angel wings, beautiful yet broken. They are merely the skeletal remains, littered with stray ashen feathers and drops of vividly crimson blood.
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