Lucia, despite her undead nature, bore the telltale signs of her transformation. Her skin was deathly pale, devoid of any color. Her movements exuded a cold and eerie presence. The deep blue hair that marked her siren heritage had faded into a mix of blue and white. Her legs, which once transformed into shimmering tails in seawater, could no longer do so.
Yet despite the deathly aura surrounding her, her gaze and smile were invigorating, uplifting the spirits of those around her.
When Rita entered the tavern, Lucia was chatting with the barkeep. Whatever the barkeep said made Lucia burst into laughter.
This image of Lucia was completely unlike what Rita had imagined. There was no despair, no melancholy, no guardedness toward the people around her. She wasn't the loving, gentle figure Rita had expected either.
Instead, Lucia was a force of life and energy, even in her undead form.