Beyond and through and changed and gone. Fallen and bounced and still somewhere low. A ghost of soft fuzz with fragile chitin within. Wide wings the colors of fascination. Long, feathery antennae waving above faceted eyes.
A butterfly.
Four-armed figure, the bones-and-muscle of a flier, painted-on blue-latex-crawl dress enhancing slim lines. A sharp beauty. Cut as soon as kiss.
Something in her gaze, something in her eyes Something ancient, something wounded, something past mad. A chill tapestry of a rebuilt mind. A delicate, fragile crystal. How sharp will the shatters be?
Sosael, reconfigured. Less aggressive. Still insane. Still old. Still into pain. Still falling.
Still generally incoherent and unpredictable.
Atazael beams happily at Jeremy. "Speak not her name for she is still near me beneath behind in potential memory-- but softened forgotten shifted..."