Zenobia was forty-two years old when she died. No longer the young enchantress of entrancing beauty that she once had been - yet her charms seem to not wane with age. Her power of seduction and suggestion is still growing - a power she willingly uses and abuses, over men and an astonishing number of women too. For she has long lost faith in human nature, and finds that controlling people is the only way to have them behave decently. Most of the time itís not controlling per se, rather nudging them in the right direction.

 She is a woman of few words, usually her otherworldly allure and intense black eyes speak more than a thousand words. Yet she is sweet-tongued and can sway conversations her way in the most adverse of situations.

 When left alone, and overwhelming sorrow is cast over her. It is beyond the melancholy of those who are left in the land of the dead, beyond the pain of resurrection, but it seems to be a driving force to her will to go back into the world of the living. For like the ghosts of old, she has an unfinished purpose and will go back as many times as needed.

 Zenobia dresses plainly, though it doesnít look like any of her clothing is just utilitarian. She seems to have access to a never-ending array of garments, always appropriate to the situation, always impeccably crafted, never outrageous. A golden-threaded headband adorns her head, and a single white pearl her left earlobe.

 A white barn owl accompanied her wherever she goes, often watching ominously from a safe distance, perched on a tree or a roof, sometimes delivering messages for her.