A fall of deep copper-auburn hair, sea-heavy and never quite dry, shot through with faint streaks of seafoam teal and roping over one shoulder against fair, freckled skin that holds a cool shimmer where the moon catches it. Pale sea-grey eyes, steady and a little unhuman, that watch the shore like she is memorizing it. A grown young woman's figure — soft-curved at waist and hip, high-cheekboned and striking rather than sweet — carried with the slow, weightless ease of someone used to moving through water, not air. Iridescent scaling in indigo and pearl traces the outsides of her forearms and the line of her hips, her webbed fingers are tipped with small abalone-shell nails, and tiny pearls are woven through her hair. She wears a band of kelp and abalone, and two stolen human things she treasures: a brass button, and a single pearl earring with no match.

Shows affection by

touch

In conflict

meets conflict head-on

Habits

collects small lost human things; hums when she is thinking, and the sea hums back; touches a new object all over to learn it; counts tides instead of hours