A quintessential specimen of her species: corded, muscular powerful. Iskra is larger than the average Amur tigress, swathed in a cloak of dusty orange, copper and white. She sports the typical markings found in felines of her kind. Her gaze is a golden amber which appears yellow in direct sunlight, often focused, cold and scrutinizing. By default, she's a sufferer of resting bitch face syndrome, which, in her opinion, has done wonders to keep unwanted company the fuck away.

Perhaps the only thing of note are the few nicks she sports along her ears and the fact that she speaks with an accent that gets thicker the more one ruffles her feathers.

Pragmatic, dry-humored, prejudiced; these are all adjectives that describe Iskra well on a surface level. Canines and their laws do not touch her; she does not comprehend their need for rigid structures despite her own personal regidity. To Iskra, they're nothing more than a nuisance, but antagonism is rare and usually sparked by boredom. Still, this kitty has claws and a cat likes to play with her mice.