Rapacious, ever-eager, and compelling, where her husband is the epitome of order, Genevieve appears to be chaos. Her complexion is fetchingly pale and her hair of spun gold, kept short save for flow of bangs. Her eyes are dark, hypnotic, and all too enticing save for a little hint of something cold and other in them. Her smiles, well, those are frankly famous for how they still the heart and slow the thoughts. Nothing about her seems in order or inline with itself and it leaves many of her would be friends and connections flummoxed. Her reputation, as a result, seems always in flux and hounded, in kind, by rumors of unpleasant past times and recreations that speak to a passionate, violent soul.

The ancient seat of her own family is all too much a reflection of it's present matriarch. It's particular dimensions always... shifting and rearranging upon it's pier overlooking a stilled vortex of frozen wind where the light of the Indigo Sun seems unable to reach it's utter depths. The long history of disappearances, reappearances, and strange circumstances besides yet weaving an unhappy reputation but lending a thrill of adventure to those who might brave the Aurand Manor's depths.