. Small and slight, Adriana does not cut the most imposing figure.

Her most noticeable feature is the lengths of silk she wraps about her head, hiding the ruin of her left eye from the world. Not that she finds her features shameful, but she understands well enough that societal convention somewhat frowns on openly displaying gaping wounds. Still, she doesn't pretend it isn't there, and favors bright silks to draw any questioning gaze. It appears she wants the world to know she bares it, even if she doesn't explain why.

She dresses as one befitting her rank and station within the Confluence of Lethe, flowing silks, golden rings piercing her septum and ears, and bright powders and makeup touching her lips and about her surviving eye. She never leaves her estate without a matching set of daggers at her waist, twinned copies of the traditional Karambit that those of the coastal city states are expected to carry with them at all times. The fact that she carries two might raise a few eyebrows, as someone of her family's wealth should never truly need to draw even the one. Between that and the missing eye, stories and whispers follow in her wake wherever she goes.

Of course, that was all before she awoke to the divine spark.

Now, she is both unreal and real, the vibrant colors drained by the pale mist. The silks she wears and her curled hair are buffeted endlessly by wind, even in those places where such currents could not possibly find her. That is  when she deigns to walk at all, of course, for the same winds bear her aloft almost without thought. Poetry flows through the air on these currents, not some ghostly chorus voices, but actual streamers of ethereal calligraphy manifested from cloud stuff and storm to sing her praises to the world, only to vanish upon the same spectral currents that birthed them. Now when she moves, mist and vapor trails off from her every motion, afterimages of words forming songs in a dozen tongues.