Alisandra Vance
Wizard, School of Divination
Alisandra Vance
Species
Human
Appearance
Alisandra is a narrow-faced human woman with a long, deliberate stride and the stillness of someone who has learned to make a crowded room wait. Her dark brown skin bears faint pale lines at the knuckles from years of handling sealing wax, rough paper, and river grit. Her hair is black, threaded with early silver, and braided close to the scalp before being gathered into a severe knot. She has a small scar beneath her left ear, a missing lower canine, and a habit of smiling with only one side of her mouth. Her hands are soft by official standards but permanently stained at the fingertips with blue ink. She looks austere at first glance, yet a tiny brass child's whistle hangs beneath her collar, polished bright from constant handling.
“Her voice is low, dry, and unhurried, carrying cleanly through rain, market noise, and crowded offices. She speaks in complete sentences, rarely uses contractions, and places names, dates, and numbers with surgical emphasis.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Blue ink permanently stains the pads of her fingers
A narrow scar runs beneath her left ear
She is missing one lower canine, visible only when she laughs
A polished brass child's whistle hangs under her collar
Her official seal is set into the silver ferrule of her cane
Voice
“A low contralto with the calm weight of rainwater filling a cistern”
Clothing
She wears a high-collared indigo coat reinforced with thin leather panels, a rain-darkened shoulder cape, fitted charcoal trousers, and knee-high river boots. Brass clasps bear the understated sunburst of the Southern Revenue Office. Her cuffs are lined with waxed green cloth, and every pocket is labeled in her own tiny handwriting. Beneath the coat she wears a plain linen shirt and a narrow chain carrying three old bridge keys.
Body Language
Alisandra keeps her shoulders relaxed, her chin level, and her hands folded over the head of her cane. She rarely points. Instead, she turns one finger against the cane's silver ferrule when calculating a response. When someone lies, she looks down at their shoes, not their face. Her rare moments of tenderness appear as practical adjustments, a cloak pulled over a sleeping clerk, a cup moved away from an inkpot, a chair placed nearer the brazier.
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