The Queen saw the beast in the ribs of the garden A long-legged serpent, gilded and smooth, with movements as hypnotic and divine as they are alien in their flexid ease, the roll of her spine like that of fluid, unhindered. She is an idol of gold, living gold that drips, coils, and flourishes highlights of metallics and flame, bright upon angular bone and the flawlessly sleek density of a radiant pelage. Her fur is like a golden oil at every place but throat and breast, where there it is feathered by floating strands of fine waves and coils. Beyond that, and nary a stray wisp or flyaway betrays the true lush volume of her pelt. She is entirely unmarked, save for the obsidian tears that run from both edges of her eyes - cleopatran mascara framing the feline taper of her lids, and behind them, eyes a grey so deep that only the brightest light illuminates the shade beyond black. The hooks of lengthy claws are lethal, beautifully arcing into an exaggerated bend, and almost entirely translucent, radiant with an inner glow of sunshine somewhere within their crystal curves.

All leg, the damsel is supported by stilted limbs willowy and long, deep chested with flanks tucking into a slender waist, and her narrow shoulders taper almost without end to the dip of dainty ankles and diminutive paws - at a glance, frail, but a closer look reveals a figure rounded by the generous slopes of musculature, smooth curves defined by soft lines shift subtly beneath her skin. A slender neck supports her cranium, petite with the subtle dip leading to the brief length of her muzzle, smaller than average, though still narrowing elegantly in the short duration that it tapers to the conclusion of her velvet black nose. Three barely faceted amethyst gems descend, like soft colored petals down crown and stop, confined to the borders of the black eyeliner that trail down her muzzle's edge. A brassy branch winds around the soft convex of her skull, ancient wood knotted and gnarled into a relic of aged dignity, feminine in the silken, ruffled petals of deep wine unfurled upon the slender wood. The two ends of its branches warp upward, their edges sharp and jutting forward as though impish little horns. The serpentine limb of her tail is long and lush, rounded at it's tip like that of a snow leopard.

Light Element: Though a natural light envelopes her, a golden glow will momentarily linger where her footsteps fall, often making it appear as though the ground has been briefly gilded.

Water Element: An unnaturally flowing elegance is demonstrated in her stride, and the few loose hairs standing out against her sleek hide seem to float unnaturally, as though she were submerged. When speaking, her breath feels like a frigid breeze, and her body temperature is almost unnaturally cold unless she focuses on raising it.

The Queen saw the beast in the ribs of the garden Donning the hollow outward appearance of a lackadaisical dreamer, she always seemed preoccupied with some serene mystery or fantasy, flawlessly brandishing a countenance eternally brightened by some reflective musing or secretive mischief. Glossy obsidian eyes are aglow with hidden thoughts and passions, but deeper ventures into her character reveal a frightening sense of nothingness, a seemingly unmotivated character that obscures inner wisdom. Though a predator - watchful, patient, and extreme by the nature of her kin, the wily arius is in no way partial to killing. Life and the experiences it may offer are of the highest value, and though she may meddle, ruin, and disrupt, she generally declines to take it away - though to say the enchantress was qualmish when it came to committing wicked deeds would be false. She defaults towards what appears to be innocently extended graciousness - a casual though adept socialite, Nephele enjoys establishing connections with others, however brief, and however false they may be when it comes time for her to reciprocate. Despite the multitude of chaotic little intricacies that many may seek to confine her character to, the enchantress will always present a front of flawless refinement, much like the easy grace of a lounging cat.

The Queen saw the beast in the ribs of the garden Though the family was hardly joined to any branches of royalty, they were still identified as well above the common cur; and Nephele was born into a line long known for their skills in the arcane, each an enchantress or illusionist with exemplary skill. The only one she ever cared for was her eldest sister. The dame was idolized, a Lucretius from one of the earliest litters their sacred mother bore, the eldest daughter eventually known for nobility and wisdom unmatched. A light to dissolve any shadow, a gentility to warm any heart, with her untimely death at the hands of her lover, despite it being a death swiftly avenged by the entirety of her family, a corruption began to befoul the heart of her younger sibling. In life, Iokaste had held firm to the idea that there was a genuine good within her, and as such, "Sōþian" - the echoing purl of her dying words are still held close to Nephele's heart. Though the lesser Lucretius' kindness was rarely true to begin with, rather, it was an expression of what she wanted to be (like her beloved Iokaste), and she is far more prone to the tantalization of slipping into wicked deeds without the guiding hand of her sibling. Though she makes mistakes often, far too motivated by her own whimsy and careless delights, true abandonment of her sister's value's are viewed as treachery, and even Nephele has no desire to fall so far. As she ages, her attempts have become far fewer, far weaker, but still on occasion she will make an effort to abide by her sister's teaching. Sometimes.