(hopefully nobody minds if I slide in here.)<br/><br/>(Name: Xenia Ingesson<br/>Age: 21<br/>Sex: Female<br/>Species: H+ (Transhuman, arachnid variant)<br/>Special: Very resilient, liver of iron, gadgets, very strong for someone so waifish. Is unusually heavy for someone so thin. Also has six arms.<br/>Height: 6'6<br/>Pred/prey: entirely pred.<br/>Staff/guest: Guest- may be planehopping... Somehow.)<br/><br/>Tall. Pale. Dour. Three words that described the strikingly attractive, thin woman wearing a black, impressive pea jacket, tight black pants and black knee boots, who slid open the door of the bar, adjusting her sharp, very rectangular glasses and brushing some of the silvery blonde, slightly curling hair out of her right eye. Which revealed another one as the parting of her hair changed, above her left- not a human eye, a very spidery one, red in color, just like her human irises. Most would say she was albino; not the case. She simply looked it.<br/><br/>Those cold, weary eyes looked for a secluded place to sit, A gentle shiver running through her. She hadn't had a good day. What she needed was something powerful, to dull the overwhelming sense of being out of place, to forget the looks she had been getting over her six arms...