The long thin silvery scars are still there along her
cheeks, two under her left eye and one under her right. She has grown to be nearly five and a half foot tall. Short cropped,
almost scruffy and slightly curly white-blonde hair cover her ears, she has brown eyes that seem to glint when fired up but
she is still beautiful. That beauty is detached somehow. Turned from something soft into a weapon.
She wears a black shirt tied at the waist with a belt
but loose and untucked from her roughed up trousers. A thick woollen cloak hangs about her neck, keeping the wind and rain
out. The boots on her feet have seen better days and at her side hangs a longsword, strapped into a leather scabbard
that seems to be the most expensive thing about her. Her arms remain bare, faded silvery scars from past battles and the occasional
nick and scratch mark her skin. It's young still however, and does nothing to detract from her wild beauty. At her throat
a leather tie holds a chain mail collar, protecting her from being cut from behind.
She stalks more than walks.. totally comfortable with
the way her legs and body move. Making the watcher almost think of a feline grace.
There's a mercanary attitude about Ashe... and she
uses it well.
