[The lich may be recognizable by her distinct red, hooded cloak, but nothing else about her comes close to reading as Lup. Even without a corporeal form, Lup's lich body still possesses all of her usual mannerisms, the haughty way she throws her bony chin up, the wave of her skeletal hands through the air while she tells a story, the ridiculous way she'll suddenly float through walls to frighten folks and then dab in their faces. But this lich has none of those gestures, none of her poise or overconfidence.
The cloaked figure floats at least five off of the ground, her whole frame crumpled in on itself, hands curling at her unseen face beneath her hood. She's trembling, shaking in and out of view, like she's a flickering lightbulb, red electricity peeling off of her in dangerous arcs. At first, Carey's presence had gone completely unnoticed, the stray bolt of magic just happening to strike near her.
But then she calls the lich's attention to her, the spectral elf looking up from her bony hands, meeting the other woman's gaze.
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The cloaked figure floats at least five off of the ground, her whole frame crumpled in on itself, hands curling at her unseen face beneath her hood. She's trembling, shaking in and out of view, like she's a flickering lightbulb, red electricity peeling off of her in dangerous arcs. At first, Carey's presence had gone completely unnoticed, the stray bolt of magic just happening to strike near her.
But then she calls the lich's attention to her, the spectral elf looking up from her bony hands, meeting the other woman's gaze.
She says nothing.]