Ophelia Whitmore

One could consider Ophelia Whitmore the picture of gothic Victorian grace; with her brings a sense of frightened awe, as she looks like a portrait would... Caught between beauty and death. She stands at 5'8", carrying herself with an eerie elegance like her moves are deliberate. Her complexion is precisely the kind of porcelain paleness that one would have if they never felt a drop of sunlight. Not a freckle or flaw in sight, save for the brand at the nape of her neck. It was burned with ritual fire, displaying as a crescent moon and a downward-facing cross. It throbs in pain when she channels her magic.
Thick, dark brows act as the frame to her glacial blue eyes. Piercing and intense if she is making eye contact, but distant and thoughtful if she is not. She has a look of appraisal on her face often, as if she must decide if you are worth her time.
Her heart-shaped face is surrounded by rebellious strands of her raven curls that fall out of her haphazard updo. Having bid adieu to her lady-in-waiting, Ophelia pins her hair up herself rather poorly.
Ophelia would never be caught dead in colours that she does not like -- she wears black, white, and nothing else. She is often sporting high-collared Victorian gowns, adorned in layers of lace at the neck and the sleeves. She keeps her corsets tight to the bone, and she likes it this way. Her long sleeves trail past her fingers, adorned with silver rings, and trail at her sides.
She prefers to exude mystery, carefully curated so not to invite danger in.