Name: Isadora Crow
Age: Eternally nineteen
Gender: Female
Power: Spell-casting
Side~ Evil or Semi Good: Evil
Weapon Choice: Dagger
Appearance: To call this young woman beautiful would be a bigger understatement than saying Hitler was mentally ill. Of course, this statemnt is debatable, for beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? However, it is a commonly shared opinion that Isadora's imperfect beauty could put even that of the Goddess Aphrodite to shame. Her imperfections simply add to her perfection. She is not a polished diamond, but she gleams brighter than those that are polished once every hour.
Isadora has long, shimmering ebony locks that seem to cascade effortessy in loose, romantic ringlets over her slender, bony shoulders, spiralling down her back like a glistening waterfall of raven's feathers, swirling and twirling until they reach her large, white, succulant breasts.
The dark, shadowed circles beneath her large, intoxicating ice-blue eyes - a tell tale sign o may sleepless nights - contrast greatly with the unusual, eeriy pale white of her blemish-less skin. The eyes themselves are sullen and sunken, almost lifeless, yet they shine with a merciless glimmer. Within them, all the secret sadness of the world in enclosed. They are the locked windows to her tainted soul, every bat of the long, thick, smoky black lashes that frame them like turning an old, faded page in a tragic novel.
Some say that her eyes arel like two magnets. Those unfortunate enough to become trapped in her mesmerizin aze find it impossible to pull away. They are rooted like trees to the spot, just waiting for the axe-man that never comes to chop them down and free them from her spell. They are paralyzed, trapped like a helpless animal in the glaring headlights of a fast-approaching vehicle. From their demise they know there is no escape, yet they are at peace. Her presence sets them to rest.
Others say that one gaze from this irresistible beaty is enough to melt even the coldest of hearts - and make no mistake, those who say this speak no untruth - but beware, for that very same gaze can quickly become just as cold as, if not ten times colder than, the icy hearts it is so notorious for melting. Her sunken, sullen eyes can be as cold as a raging winter wind, or as warm and inviting as the cracking fire in the house you are sheltering. Ether way, she continues to enchant.
Her full, plump, luscious lips are as red as rubies and as vibrant and sensual as the blood of an innocent victim slaughtered mercilessly in a state of utmost vulnerability. Ever so slowly, they part just slightly to reveal a set of pearls, curling either upwards into the slightest and smallest of smiles, or downwards into an expression of heartbreaking melancholy.
Personality: Driven by ruthless ambition, she is quite maddened with grief. She has taken up a rather mad-hatter way o life, sitting around with little Andromeda and drinking tea. Now, Andromeda is the only person she truly cares for.
(Does someone want to make Andromeda, her adoptive daughter? Andromeda's parents were killed in a magical crossfire between two feuding Witch families.)
