[i]A woman who stood at five three stumbled out of the dojo, her shoulder length brown hair tied back in its usual ponytail. She blinked, unused to the thick, round glasses she wore; she had been using them her whole life, however she'd grown used to the magnetic field surrounding her eyes so fast that suddenly returning to glasses was a little disorienting. Her light olive skin was covered in freckles, with high cheekbones, a small, perky nose and thin lips. Her left hand was pale and slender, a violinist's fingers, and covering that was a simple gauntlet. Her right hand was something else, however; a sleek, gunmetal gray prosthetic arm, plated with New Magnesium alloys—strong as titanium alloys, light as a feather—yet painted to look like steel. Sheathed at the woman's left side was a simple, inch and a half wide, three feet long, steel sword, nothing special about it. The woman, who looked more fifteen than her actual age, twenty three, narrowed her eyes in an attempt to see further. She approached Vladimir, a question her bright, green eyes.[/i] "Russian?" [i]She inquired, interested, having never met a Russian person.[/i]