Virelath’s impossibly slender frame moves with an uncanny grace that resembles the shifting of light on quicksilver. Her near-translucent silver-white scales reflect the world like polished mirrors, disrupted only by the faintest hint of frost-blue undertones along her ribs and spine, visible when she stretches. Her small wings, which rest almost flush against her narrow body, fan out suddenly and silently in moments of tension, revealing delicate, paper-thin membranes reminiscent of ancient parchment. Her narrow head has no visible eyes or nostrils in the conventional sense, but slight, bare slits that seem to see and smell far beyond mortal perception. The contradiction between her fragile, almost ethereal silhouette and her steely resolve leaves most onlookers disarmed — they expect frailty but meet an unyielding force.