Her bloodline includes family members of various heights and builds and specialties, but Irene seems to lack in everything. A particularly ordinary-looking girl, with no true size to offer her strength, no sleek frame to bring boys to their knees. Her fur is thick and soft, her eyes big and knowing, but that's about it. She does not seek to be extraordinary, and so she's come to terms with her average self. If anything, all she did inherit was scruffiness from her grandparents, though she desperately tries to groom it down into a manageable look.
Personality
A delicate ghost, broken then sealed then broken again. Scars filled with silver to hide the damage, but spirit and hope have long since left.
Born in dismay but clinging to manners and a mask of dignity, times have worn her down and stripped her of her coping mechanisms. A ghost child haunted by traumas she can't seem to shake, whose red-threaded tendrils seem irreversibly entangled with her. Trust and comfort are memories long lost, her only solace is to wrap herself in a shadowed cloak of invisibility in this world. Death is a living entity, and she evades It at all cost.
Being thrust into a new world by mysterious means, the excess of uncertainty and the unknown are likely to bring further stress.