Character

If Etain's parents are night and day, then she is the glorious dawn. The gold threads of elfland weave through the dark forest of Dubhaine tresses, the prominent features of her grand-dames tempered by ancient summers when the world was young and war a future memory. Golden irises swirl into pits of deepest black, at one moment filled with ancient knowledge, at the next bubbling with youthful passions. The same lithe, willowy frame is there, but it moves more subtly, the primal power of the predatory great cat sheathed in a harlequin's humorous grace.

With Etain's return to the Shadow Throne a new spirit has settled upon her, a remembrance of a world long passed into the mists of history. The flowing, elegant lines of Elfhame drape her flesh, light dresses and gowns of linen and samite shimmering as she moves, warm with sunlight, and green forest glades, and the lustrous blue of cool mountain pools.

In battle a second skin of cunningly wrought plate armour mirrors the graceful curves of her long-limbed body, no thicker than a human hair, stainless and unyielding, cool yet sensuous to the touch, a train of white silk flowing from pauldrons to the ground. No helm conceals her head, instead her hair hangs loose about her shoulders, adorned with pale blossoms from the deep wood, a simple gold circlet upon her brow. A broadsword of ancient Sirion hangs in a scabbard at her right hip, a poignard balancing it on the left. All moving with silence and effortless grace.