Aleyna is thin, even for a night elf. She walks with a sauntering pace and a crooked grin across her freckled face. Her hair is cut a little roughly and unevenly, hanging around her neck in wispy strands. Her most noticeable feature would be her ears, which are cut into short, ragged stumps not much larger than a human's. Earrings line what's left of the ragged lobes. She appears to be scrappy sort and usually has some sort of healing injury. Her knuckles are bruised and rough, accompanying a litany of old injuries. There's an old puckered scar of a bite mark along her neck and a spattering of old swordplay scars that run up her arms. When her clothing allows it, there are thick black tattoos in the shape of skulls on her chest and knees.
The sigil for the Kamil te Kar, which is also tattooed on many of their ranks.
I never thought I would enjoy a vacation. Could I even call it such? There's no luxury or excess gold to be thrown about, but it's pleasant none the less. When we're not traveling, we're resting.
I've been reading some and writing more. It's nothing good, nothing worth publishing. It's romantic garbage, but she likes it when I read it out when we're laying next to the fire. She's such a sap, deep down.
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