The Dark Grimoire: An interactive roleplaying community

Short of stature and slight of frame, Illiona moves about her world like a shadow. There is a haunting in her eyes, silvery irises circled in a witch-ring of black. They peer out, ever watching, from behind a thick and heavy curtain of hair so dark it drinks up the light. It falls straight and smooth as glass to brush the tips of her fingers, well below her waist.

Skin of near perfect porcelain is marred by a jagged scar that twists cruelly across the left side of her face from the corner of her mouth to the outside corner of her eye. A second scar slices across it like a lopsided x. They are old scars, pale and iridescent.

Her words come softly, a whispering of a melody that is at odds with the intensity of her gaze.