Eyetaker

Seeming: Ogre
Kith: Hunterheart
Court: Summer

Mask:
No one would fault someone for crossing the street or just staying the hell out of her way. The mask may be mundane but something lingers in the back of the mind that makes a man or woman look at her like she's a grizzly in their living room... A marvel of nature, sure, but a damned worrying one when it's wandered into suburbia. Her presence seems to practically promise violence and they'd be right nine times out of ten. It's that underlying willingness to do harm, to accept the gauntlet, to prove it's her damned turf that stands out in the mind and plucks at those reptilian instincts... and what makes her fit all too well into the fight clubs and boxing gyms around the city.

It all just... adds up when someone takes the time to really take her in; a nose that's been broken a few times and reset more than once, a hard line of jaw, and a dark brown eye with no twin that seems to watch someone with an almost animalistic simplicity. Tattoos tell a story of savagery with animals and myths tormenting, hunting, and battling for what scraps they can get... with scars a plenty underneath that seem to always fall just shy of something vital or important when it comes to questions of anatomy. All this packed into a 6' scrapper's frame that makes the mind really consider just what kind of weight can get behind those fists when she finally sets to swinging... and topped in a messy ponytail that implies hair kept long as an almost challenge in a fight. The smell of blood, whiskey, and cigarettes seeming to cling to her and follow in her wake.

Mein:
There's more than one changeling that simply wished they didn't have to see what was under the mask when it comes to the Eyetaker. Her durance in the realms of the Old Stone King seemed to have taken just about anything that might even closely resemble human from her. Her flesh is grey and seems more scar and leather than anything that might be recognized as skin, it's colour not even uniform as bruises seem to come and go beneath the surface as iron sinews shift and tug at ligaments and bone beneath. The sheer size of her mein only playing havoc with the perceptions of her proportions as her arms seem slim yet thickly corded and fractions too long... only to end in elongated hands with long and heavy clawed fingers that could easily engulf a man's head. Her legs, by contrast, retain some semblance of proper proportioning to her height but have a sturdiness to them that feeds into that same sense of disproportionate strength and a threat of imminent violence.

The eye can only stomach that for so long before making the mistake of glancing upwards to her face... A face that seems to have either misplaced it's mouth or traded it for horns that rise like obsidian crags from either side of her head and part the dark, coarse, and oily hair. Only one eye watches from the left side of her face, the other absent and leaving behind only a weeping and sunken eye-lid... That eye, though, is the worst of her features... It's pure black depths betraying little of her thoughts or what presently holds her attention... It seems to just absently watch and pick and tug at something deep in the brain, threatening to root a person in place. The smell of liquor, blood, and cigarettes clings to her even now... turning the stomach with the thought of it's origins.

In all she seems some alien predator rather than ogre or fantastical creature... Something built to maim and kill and exalt in the experience. The first biting whispers of Summer heat churning and twisting the air around her.