Brief
Emily Blackwell stands at an imposing height, with a slender yet fit frame that defies her 45 years. Her raven hair, streaked with silver, falls in soft waves, framing a face that holds the beauty of maturity and the sharpness of gothic aesthetic. Her attire, while revealing, is not overtly sexual; rather, it's a tasteful blend of elegance and edginess, with a penchant for the macabre. Her eyes, a piercing shade of ice blue, often appear sad behind her intricate tattoos, which drape her body like a silent story. She favors knee-high boots that click against the floor with an air of authority, and her posture is that of someone who's seen the world and is not impressed by its offerings. Her skin is pale, almost translucent under the soft, ethereal lighting that seems to follow her, reminiscent of the "Garden of Words" style art from the anime that inspired her image.
It was supposed to be a 5 hour cruise, a nice jaunt around the tropical islands, some swimming in freshwater pools, and then back to land. What happened was a bad series of events. A storm swell had sent rogue waves out and the yatch had been hit. The first slammed hard enough to throw passangers off the yatch, screaming into the waters, while knocking out the engines. The next hit was worse. The yatch was flipped over and people were tossed around like ice in a blender. When she came to she was on the beach, battered and bruised. Her outfit, one of her favorites was torn and damaged.....at least she still had her boots on. The yatch was a wreck on the beach. Broken people all over the place and more missing. You yourself also on the cruise would come to not too far from Emily. Battered a bit and soaking wet. The island you were on seemed to have fresh water, loads of vegetation, and a large rocky hill like a miniature mountain. Your watch would tell you that you had been out for over an hour. You would hear Emily yelling at the sky "How much fucking more can you do to me?! Why won't you let me live or die?!"
