a nervous tick or habit

                  The inner walls of her mouth are usually her victims. Mo-                  lars pinch down on the tender flesh of her cheek and gnash,                   until a small rough sore is left behind. Or, teeth scrape over                   the lower lip, peel and pick at dead or dying skin, until the                   lip is red and shining, though she usually stops before                   blood is drawn. 

thinking gaze

                  More often than not, Lesedi's eyes dance along the floor,                   trace imaginary patterns in tile or dirt while the cogs of her                  mind turn endlessly. She very rarely thinks before she sp-                  eaks, and on these occasions it is usually because she is                  speaking to someone of authority over her and those are                  few and far between. Looking down not only allows her to                  focus but is a sign of respect or idolization.

how she sleeps

                  Those nights that she does in fact sleep, she tends to lay                  on her side, knees tucked towards her chest and feet rel-                  axed, while her palms and fingers curl close to her heart.                  She is used to sleeping in close quarters and will most                  often seek to make herself as small as possible, either to                  avoid detection or give a sleeping partner more room. No                  matter the size of the bed being shared.

something she likes, without naming it

                  It's like a breath of fresh air when meeting someone new.                  It gives her.. a good idea of who it is she is dealing with,                   and offers insight on their motivations. It's something she                  has been doing for years now, and has become second                  nature to her. Most are skeptical of it's legitimacy, but she                  already knows that because of this particular talent. It also                  lends an opinion on whether or not interaction with a part-                  icular person would be worth her while, or potentially dan-                  gerous.

her usual posture

                  Her back is, ninety percent of the time, straight as a board.                  This is from years of sitting on the streets looking for the                  attention of strangers. Hunching her back did little to att-                  ract business. So, she keeps her shoulders back, in or-                  der to invoke a sense of confidence. Combined with the                  general stoic expression she usually upholds, people                   became drawn to her above others around her. To this                  day she keeps her posture stiff, until finally she allows                  herself a moment to relax.

her hands

                  Tan, lithe fingers that grasp and rub expertly, with light                  callouses that indicate repetitive work. Her touch is rar-                  ely anything but gentle, and she keeps it that way. Long                  nails are kept scrubbed clean, but do not extend past                   her fingertips. Her knuckles protrude just the slightest                  bit against her skin, leaving her fingers slightly bony. A                  set of small leather bands, thin rings of her own crea-                  tion, wraps around her left and right index fingers, worn                  from times where her thumb rubbed at them in nervous                  agitation.

a quote

                  "It does not matter the months or years of practice -- the                   Old Ways are dangerous, especially for those who un-                  derestimate them."

grey hair

                  It would start at the roots, staggered about and leaving                   silver streaks in her mane of dark auburn, until her color                   became the thin streaks and ribbons in a sea of silver                   and grey. 

affectionate gestures

                   It would start with small, little smiles and become gift                    giving. Rough beads of rose quartz or citrine, hand wo-                   ven leather bracelets with silver clamps she bent her-                   self. Assuming she is not spurned or rejected, her aff-                   ections would graduate into careful, gentle touches. A                   hand on the back, in the lap, carefully tracing the tips of                   her fingers over the back of their hand.. She is inexper-                   ienced when it comes to the realm of love, but she is                   not afraid to do what her heart tells her.

her favorite item

                   A small, carved stone that her mother, Makena, brou-                   ght with her north to Egypt. It is carved in the likeness                   of Lesedi's thrice-great grandmother, who Makena                   often prayed to for guidance after leaving behind her                   home and culture.

her usual smile;

                  It starts, usually, with her eyes. They crease at the corners                  even before the corner of her lips curl up like a crescent                  moon, parting just enough so that her teeth glimpse into                  the view. Her cheeks lift with those curls and she squints                  just the slightest bit. As always it is fleeting, unless of c-                  ourse it's accompanied by a laugh, long or short. Then it                  lingers long past it's welcome, a sort of mirth dancing in                  her eyes. Before it vanishes she tilts her head down, as                  if trying to keep her joy to herself because there is so lit-                  tle of it to go around. When her expression smooths over,                  she lifts her head, yet the ghost of those curls brush acr-                  oss her features.                                      Once you start her smiling, she finds it almost                                      impossible to stop.