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The giraffe woman couldn't help but to stand out. Had it been because of the mess of smoke she calls hair, that waved and curled around her body like an untamed fire, or perhaps it was her eyes — they always did say the eyes are mirrors to the soul. Maybe it was due to the gold rings wrapped around her neck, elongating it so, or the way her hips rolled with each commanding step she took. The way her body danced in curves was like a compliment in and of itself. Her touch was like the sun, bright and warm yet alluring and calming all the same though she often gave off the impression of grace; courtesy to her cultured past.
Some said they could see a darkness that lurked on her face at times as though she was hiding many secrets, though had that been the case, it’d of been impossible to tell for she embodied mystery and everything that came with it. A woman skilled in the art of herb, Seren encouraged familiarity. The darkness never stayed long anyway.
