The Sword-Saint

She is a small woman, birdlike, with coloring like that of a sparrow. Her clothes, thick linen and intricately tooled leather, obscure her gender, but the low alto of her voice is unmistakable. The first thing you notice about her is the mask, pale wood and lightweight. Sometimes she is wearing it, other times it disappears into the depths of her cloak, a deep green drape of fabric with shifting, intricate embroideries. After the mask, you notice the sword. It is delicate, almost ornamental in its fineness, but the worn leather grip suggests long use. After the mask, the sword, the cloak, you might notice her face, unexceptional. Her mouth is full, prone to smiling, and her nose is strong and down-turned–again reminiscent of a bird, though less a sparrow and more a hawk. Her eyes are a light brown, almost amber in the right light, and her thick, dark hair is swept up in thick crown braids. She always moves carefully, intentionally, and listens more than she speaks.