Xalira Thryndis

An Eladrin with quick, lithe movements, Xalira stands just under six feet with the deliberate grace of someone raised on moonlit courts and city rooftops alike. Her skin takes on the subtle hint of her current mood—pale with a cool, bluish cast when distant, warm and russet when amused—and her eyes shift from icy grey to amber like changing weather. Long black hair is usually braided tight at the nape to keep it out of the way; loose strands frame a sharp, angular face marked by a thin, silvery scar along her left cheek. She favors close-fitting leather dyed in muted greens and charcoal, a hooded cloak that seems to drink light, and well-oiled boots that make no sound; twin daggers hang at her hips and a coil of thin wire is tucked into her sleeve. Her hands are deft and restless—always fiddling with a lockpick, coin, or the edge of her cuff—and she speaks in a low, dry voice that can be disarmingly pleasant or cuttingly blunt with no warning. Unpredictable and self-directed, she moves like someone who answers only to her own code, slipping through crowds and shadows with a grin that promises trouble as often as it promises charm.