Taiga
She had been staring into the mirror’s reflection for a few minutes. It was like seeing a new person whenever she stood here. This year her hair had grown to shoulder length while being rather unkempt, enough to billow in the wind like a heroine, if only her hair was blond and not the natural platinum white to accomplish such a feat. There was something cold in her returned stare, the ice-blue of her eyes was astounding, it froze gazers in place for a moment to take in their beauty. Such was a charm of hers that helped in a number of occasions. However, years of study and lack of cosmetic care had attributed to the hammocks that were tugging underneath her eyes, and the creases that found their ways on either side of her nose, while faint suggested a heap of stress to force her face in such contortions. The longer she stared the more she noticed the hermit-features, like her porcelain pale skin-tone or the ghostly haunting stare she gave off.
Standing back a ways from the mirror, she knew she was about five-foot six-inches (167cm) and didn’t have much weight behind her. She stood with a mix of good-posture and years of studying, it was awkward; never finding a place to stand comfortably it tended to shift from stance to stance at any given moment.

Attire was much like her posture and lacked any real direction. While she was one to study the arcana to some degree; she certainly did not look the part. With mixes of leathers of dark to tanned browns, cloth that surmounted her wealth as middle-class in hues of white to off-white and a slew of belted compartments of vials, small bags and other trinkets to ‘put-things’ for later. At the very least, she seemed prepared for travel at any given notice. Armed with ten-inch leather boots, a small cloak shoved in a bag on her persons and otherwise other pieces of gear. Unfortunately, it clashes a great deal with her otherwise youthful beauty.