A soft puff of dirt moved from the tip of her toes as Zeneba landed in the arena, black wings opened to the air. Wrapped around her muscular body was a thin black dress, although from the way it was sewed together it looked more one long piece of fabric wrapped continuously around her. There was a deadly grace to her that one couldn't quite place. She lived for the fight and the violence, but dealt it out with an eerie gracefulness. Her eyes were solid black as was her waist length hair. She had no weapons on her but that didn't shake her core. The angel was strong, confident and a born fighter, despite what the humans thought of her kind.