SciFi and Fantasy Art: Muse pose

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One look at this elf will show that she has certainly gone around the bend. Yet, the way she moves, as well as her posture - poised, perfect, polished and flawless to the very last step - hints at the possibilities of royal, or at least noble blood?

Physically, she looks just as any elf would look, with her exotically tilted almond-shaped eyes, blonde hair and slight frame, made even slighter still by her obvious state of anorexia. Her irises, however, are an eerie shade of white, differentiated from the whites of her eyes only by means of a pale violet outline at the edges. The pupils themselves are shrunken to mere dots that dart around in an unsettlingly sporadic manner as she turns her gaze elsewhere, almost like the way a bird's eyes jerk about.

Strange runic tattoos crawl down the centre of her face, breaking off once at the eyebrows, and again above the bridge of her nose to continue beneath the curve of her lower lip, ending past the base of her pointed chin. As she turns her head, you realise the tip of her right ear is gone, as though it had been sliced off. But whatever happened, it had certainly happened a long time ago and has healed nicely by the looks of it.

Oddly enough, however, her whitish robes are made of finely woven silk, a rich and voluptuous material that slips fluidly over her legs and about her ankles. How she keeps herself in such rich conditions is a mystery. Her odd demenour would rouse suspicion of a death or two by her hands, but even that wouldn't be enough to sustain a good living.

Under the wrong kinds of lighting, her hair would seem pale, its colour bleached out and unnatural; its beauty, however, becomes apparent under a somewhat dimmer light, shining like liquid metal pouring down her back to end just above knee level. Her apparent lack of sanity can be attributed largely to the distant look in her eyes. They hold an expression of one who is not entirely there, something that does not simply make her seem aloof. Her lips are forever curved slightly in a strange smile as she hums verses to a song you may never wish to hear.

Her history? It is unknown, though one might venture to say that it is hardly a story that people would be all too thrilled to hear. Still, her face may seem familiar to the keen eye of some older elves. Worn as it is, it is undoubtedly heart shaped, her slightly sunken eyes unable to conceal a distinct curve beneath the eyelashes. But such a face only appeared once, a long time ago, when it held more flesh and youth; those eyes held such clarity. A nameless missing child.

Still, she carries herself with an unsettling air of conviction and determination, confident and controlled. She is a lady on a mission, though what that might be you do not know