Zarveta Mbeki
Sorcerer, custom Emberglass Origin
Zarveta Mbeki
Species
Human
Appearance
A young woman with long red hair that moves as though underwater, even in still air. Her olive skin carries a subtle pearlescent sheen around the knuckles and collarbones, like powdered mica under the surface. Her dark brown eyes are warm and attentive until her magic rises, when pinpricks of orange light orbit the pupils. She smiles with one slightly prominent canine and a lower row of teeth sharpened just enough to look foxlike, an inherited trait she tries to disguise by covering her mouth when she laughs. Her movements are graceful but never delicate: she plants each step firmly, as if testing whether the floor will obey her. The contradictory impression is immediate. She looks like a courtly flame-priestess, yet eats with the brisk concentration of a field worker and wipes jam from her thumb with the edge of her expensive sleeve.
“Her voice is low, quick, and musical, with crisp consonants and an unexpected downward stress on the final word of important sentences. She speaks warmly to frightened people and ceremonially to enemies.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A simple brass crown with one bent point that she refuses to straighten.
A prominent canine tooth visible whenever she smiles, paired with the habit of covering her mouth when she laughs.
A thumb-sized blue glass bead sewn into her left sleeve, worn smooth and cloudy exactly where her fingers worry it.
Her left hand constantly sheds tiny orange sparks braided with frost motes.
Her long red hair drifts in slow underwater waves even in ordinary air.
Voice
“A contralto touched by laughter, smoke, and careful restraint. Her words become almost whisper-soft when she is furious, while genuine fear makes her speak with startling bluntness.”
Clothing
An ornate gown of shimmering orange, copper, and fire-red fabric, tailored for travel with hidden pleats and reinforced seams. Intricate patterns resemble flames seen through ice. A narrow simple crown of beaten brass rests over her brow. She wears soft dark boots beneath the gown, fingerless gloves on her right hand, and a scorched blue sash belonging to her lost uncle.
Body Language
She keeps her left hand slightly raised, fingers flexing as though feeling invisible threads. Her right hand is usually tucked into a sleeve or resting on her staff. When embarrassed, she presses her tongue against the prominent canine in her smile. When genuinely frightened, she becomes perfectly still except for drifting sparks around her wrist.
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