Ylin'dirwyn Sunstorm (Physical Description)

A version of her character sheet from the MyRolePlay add-on in World of Warcraft.

Let us stroll through the marvelous streets of the ever-enduring city of the Blood Elves, the glorious capital Silvermoon, arm in arm with one another, and take in the sights, the sounds, the smells, the mysteries and delights the bustling metropolis has to offer us, oohing and aahing over the things we stumble across during our tour.

 

And stumble we do, straight into what feels like the shortest, most fragile lamppost we've ever encountered. Possibly, it's just a slim young sapling, barely of age to begin stretching its branches towards the sun. We must turn to look, to inspect the damage done to the post (or, perhaps, the youthful tree), a ready curse springing to our lips at our inattention to our surroundings, a swear that dies immediately at the sight with which we are presented...

 

It isn't a pole, nor a pillar, nor a tree.

 

It is a person.

 

A Sindorei female peers up at us inquisitively through a curtain of expertly coiffed, exquisitely curled raven dark hair. Slim, dainty, a fragile little thing, moderately curved in all the right places without being ostentatious, she smiles up at us with a look that clearly states, in a sing-song voice, without actually saying a word, "I know something you don't know."

 

Almond-shaped eyes, wide and thickly, darkly lashed, tilted up at the corners just a smidgen, glow a brilliant fel green and give off an impenetrable air of innocence and naivete, entirely at odds with sharp, knowing smile that curves her plump, unpainted lips. The face is heart-shaped, wider at the forehead and upper cheeks, narrowing down to a fine, slightly pointed little chin. Behind the bright verdant taint inherent to her race, the lovely orbs glitter the grey-green of old, dead moss, a light hue completely offset by the delicate brows, jet black, that cap her face and lead down to a small button nose, just a bit upturned. Beneath that snub beak is a small, full-lipped mouth, stained a light strawberry pink, that hides a wealth of pearly white teeth. Her glance is striking; an odd combination of intelligence, disdain and interest shines out from behind that wide-eyed, innocent appearance, complementing her calm, cool, collected demeanor.

 

Altogether, the effect of the face is usually best summed up as: "she'd be so pretty if she'd stop smiling at me like that." The visage can generally be found wearing a small, crooked, almost docile grin that, combined with the jaunty angle of the brows and tip of the head, gives the impression that its owner knows every secret there is to know about you.

 

The heavy mass of hair that crowns her head is black as a crow's wing, offsetting the pale eyes and the peaches 'n cream complexion. The silken locks are well-kept; they curl around her face charmingly and fall down her back in gentle waves that kink up into loose ringlets at the tips, ending at her rib cage. She usually keeps the dark, glossy locks in two thick tails, gathered over her shoulders and tied on both sides of her nape. A thick fringe of bangs covers half of her forehead and longer strands frame her face in a charming fashion. She often decorates her mane with flowers she's plucked from the potted plants around the city.

 

Lin is on the shorter side of the height stick, topping the charts at around five feet, perhaps an inch above. She is a slim, slight little thing with curves doled out mostly in proportion to the rest of her; she covers this lithe figure in gowns she makes herself. Unfortunately, due to the fact that she is, technically speaking, colourblind, the gowns and accessories often do not match; that is, unless of course, she has had a servant aid her in the selecting of her wardrobe for the day. When she has chosen her garments without aid, however, she generally looks as though a mountain of multi-coloured candy has just thrown up its hues on her dress.

 

Should one get a peek beneath her gowns, (s)he would find that Lin’s skin is the picture of perfection: smooth, unblemished, and glowing with a youthful vitality. The one mark that mars her flesh rests just below her breast, on the ribcage; in the shape of a diamond, there is a birthmark of a slightly darker shade than the rest of her skin. Her shoulders are slim, her arms long and graceful, her waist flat and slender. Her breasts are of an average size, neither too large nor too small, and her legs are beautifully toned and well-shaped. The one flaw she would consider herself to have physically (besides the birthmark, of course), is the fact that her hips are much wider than she would like them to be, and no amount of dieting seems to be able to rid her of the extra curves. Her hourglass hips lead down into thighs that, while not fat, are thicker than she’d prefer, complemented by a generous rear that she does her best to hide.

 

As we complete our perusal of her person, the elf nods to us, still wearing that odd little smile, and wanders away, losing herself in the crowds, the throngs of people gathered around us. And it is then that we realize something feels a bit off, that we are just that tiny bit lighter on our feet. We reach down, patting at our pockets, our belt pouches, and make an unpleasant discovery: that damned elf stole our money!