She stood like a shadow woven from desert storms, slender, poised, and radiating a quiet intensity born of survival and conviction. Her eyes, fully blue with the spice of Arrakis, shimmered with the fierce clarity of one who has seen both death and prophecy. Framed by the dark folds of her still suit, her face was both striking and severe, angular cheekbones kissed by the harsh sun, lips set in a line that could soften or sharpen with a single thought. Her hair, long and dark as the deep desert night, was braided in the traditional Fremen style, adorned with tiny rings etched with sketch symbols—marks of victories, lineage, and solemn oaths. She bore a cry knife at her hip, carved from the tooth of a sandworm, and she moved with the silent precision of someone who had danced across dunes since childhood. Though young, perhaps only in her early twenties, there was an ancient resolve in her bearing. She had killed and grieved and led raids beneath twin moons. Yet in rare, unguarded moments, her laughter, like water found in the desert, hinted at a soul not yet hardened by war, still capable of dreams beyond the sand. She was a woman of the sketch, a sister of the sand, and a warrior of Arrakis—beautiful not despite the desert, but because of it. realistic detailed face, realistic detailed hair, realistic detailed body, realistic detailed skin, realistic detailed breasts, random view angle, action pose, detailxl, nostril, plug, blue, eyes, cloak, <lora:add-detail-xl:1.5>, <lora:style_lora_realis:.5>, <lora:Dune1024:1>