Cennet Melek Shiraishi

One could be forgiven for mistaking Cennet Melek Shiraishi as some manner of strange servitor as her vanity, let alone her pride, could not bear another to witness the wretchedness to which she has devolved. The consequence is she has entombed herself in a prison of seemingly delicate and pale ceramic, each inch of flesh that need not move covered and hidden behind artful plating etched with gold and blue in the pattern of flowering vines, snaking from plate to plate. Those places where such cannot be so... There is some arcane material the hue of the darkest void spanning the gap and giving uncomfortable impressions of withered and wretched limbs. Even her face is hidden behind masks of the same ceramic; each a work of art with delicate hues at lip and cheek yet so upsetting in how it straddles the gulf between inanimate and human. The only glimpses afforded of what might lurk beneath are through the dark and lustrous hair that falls from her head, the glimpses of dark eyes gleaming with a fierce intellect and, finally, those rare and terrible moments where the formless black of the Warp Eye is revealed.

Beyond such aberrations of form, she is almost always garbed in the flowing gold and blue robes of her station. The golden thread forming elaborate constellations and star fields across an endless sea of royal blue. Beneath is no more than a simple black body glove and the shimmering hue of finely wrought xeno-mesh. All of it speaking to endless wealth and a relentless pride in her appearance as well as the caliber of her offered services. Yet strangely, she seems an easily tired creature that moves with painful slowness and rarely remains standing where she might sit and be guided here and there by an ever present aide in the robes of a novitiate navigator or liveried and mute servant.

These impressions remain but it becomes clear to those well acquainted with the prideful woman that something has changed. Her posture, still pridefully straight, now exudes a more natural impression of strength beyond honed will and determination. Her every step now accompanied by the softest whisper of a metallic click drowned beneath the heavier thud of her staff's butt... and no longer does she rely upon her servants and lesser navigators to aid in each step yet they still accompany her as they always have. The catalyst to such a change easily sourced back to a period of convalescence under the care of the Esteemed Magos Tesla.