A pale, wind-creased figure who moves like a breeze through curtains. Her body looks partially mummified in places and translucent in others, as though the air itself has eaten at her flesh then stitched it back into a figure. Her clothing and armor constantly ruffle as if caught in a wind that only she truly feels. There is an odd, almost joyful tilt to her posture that contradicts the grave slackness of the undead portions of her face. Up close you can see faint, old ritual ink peeking from under torn skin at her shoulder blades.