theme / ambience

this vessel. this vessel is a lie, a shapeshifting beast, a lesson in fluidity. ©

no brawl.
no scars.
no fall.

. KNOWN AS . Locke, Bitch, Stray, ???

. AGE . Mid twenties

. OCCUPATION . ???

. APPEARANCE . Locke stands tall and gaunt, though lightly corded with muscle. Warm bronze skin lies broken apart by a ruination of scars. The ruined tissue seems to veil every inch in a mess of slashes, stabs, and teeth. A thick mass of brown curls is loosely tied in a tail at her back, with one band of bronze streaking through the frontmost strands. Her knuckles are nearly always littered with scabs and bruises, if not wrapped in lines of dark fabric.Her expression is often caught somewhere between smug and lazy. Smiles never seem to reach beyond the smallest curl of her mouth, laughter hardly more than an exhalation or pained wheeze. Contained and controlled, or perhaps merely uncaring. Her voice is a wrecked, quiet rasp of rolling gravel, her words often blunt and short.