A coil of cigarette smoke tangled around plush, ruddy lips as they drew tight onto the butt for a drag and released slowly. For a moment, they parted, feeding what seemed like endless plumes of white-gray mist into the nostrils of a slender, subtle nose. She exhaled, those thick-lash rimmed, fire hazel orbs looked out before her. They rested in a shade of gold, indicating she was calm and aware of her surroundings. She clears her throat, reaching up with slender, variously tattooed, fingers, tipped with sharply filed red coffin tip nails, to remove a piece of tobacco from the tip of her double-studded tongue. The studs rattle across her semi-sharpened fangs as they smoothed over those pearly whites.
Something rustled in the distance, causing her to freeze momentarily, those orbs swirling to a vivid, nearly glowing shade of red. They burned as if shining like a rifleman's site. Like a beast she listened, the very tips of razor sharp alloy spikes poking through her flesh like perforation, cascading the entire length of her spine, armoring her shoulders, elbows, knees, and knuckles; an experiment influenced by one of the greatest mutants of all time--hers much more highly refined.
In a moment of ease, those thick dark brows relaxed, her orbs diffusing back to a shade between gold and orange, her body stretched as she reached both hands into wild black locks that seemed to fall any and every way at any time. A few streaks of crimson laced through, an acquisition that came with her transformation.....her "creation" if you will. A sharp eye was kept on her surroundings, cigarette hanging casually from plump lips, as she began to french braid her heavy tendrils down the back of her skull, the tail falling mid back against a black, urban style leather jacket. She was casual tonight...the likes of which meant she was on for the hunt. A thin white T-shirt, cut off at the mid-drift revealed a set of feminine abs that were only the gateway to her voluptuously athletic form. The cotton climbed her narrow waist, sprawling against it's will, across her supple breast. From beneath every inch of fabric, which revealed the mystery of this Mistress's true potential, tattoos of significant value and story poked through. Most notable was the marking which had been branded upon her right deltoid...that which marked her as a De Verin.
A muscular lower body held captive, beneath second skin like leather pants, which tucked neatly into a pair of thigh high leather riders. Tucked securely between the materials, she maintained the heirloom K-Bar from her Father, who had passed during the Daemon invasion in her home realm.
She appeared to be in her early thirties, though, unexplainably ageless in power and beauty. Various scars surprisingly criss-crossed the canvas of her angular visage-at her chin, below her right eye, across her upper lip, and across her throat. They so faint, only one whom could be within grasping distance would catch a chance to notice...that is, if they lasted long enough to do so.
She stood approximately 5'5, weighing in around 140lbs of purely athletic form. Trials and tribulations from her upbringing and creation showed through to a trained eye. But for those who encountered her only momentarily, the raw carnal essence of this war torn creature invited a seductively alluring invite to their demise.
It had been quite some time since Yen combed the streets at the City Square. After certain unfortunate incidences several years back, she sort of reclused to a less lethal lifestyle. But tonight....tonight she was hungry. Tonight she was looking for the fight.
