"Serves the pest right." Pix muttered under her breath, wishing she had done more than simply smother the minion after Gnarl's passing the buck.
The presence of her mother, as well as the mothers of her half-siblings, brought about her curiosity. It was rare to see the three older women in a room together and not constantly trying to one-up each other. As they spoke, Pix corrected her mistaken first impression. As usual, even something as simple as presenting gifts to their children involved thinly veiled fighting.
The gifts in question quickly took the young woman's attention anyways, a smirk forming on her face and an ominous twinkle in her glowing orange eyes. Approaching the set of armor and weapons that was hers, Pix couldn't help but approve as she set about putting it on.
"How ever did you know, Mother?" Pix commented, as if receiving a much-desired birthday present.
A blood red bodysuit of leather served as the undermost layer, tailored to hug her form. To such a degree, in fact, that she suspected the minions of sneaking her measurements when she was asleep. The armor itself was so deep a blue as to appear black, and after donning it all, all that could be seen of the red leather was her upper arms, thighs, and around her waist. Though the heavy metal added some bulk to her stature, the design was sleek and alluring in a manner that served to enhance her form rather than obscure it.
The helm, last to be put on, was almost as sleek and rounded as the rest of her armor. A gap in the front left her mouth and chin exposed, while thin slits let the ominous orange glow of her eyes shine through. Allowance was made for her red hair to spill out like flames across her back and shoulders unhindered. Finally, a pair of horns attached to the side swept back and upwards in a twisting manner.
After admiring her armor, Pix took the accompanying dagger in one of her claw-like gauntlets. Though most thought of daggers as thin and short, this blade was nearly the length of her forearm and had a thick and hexagonal shape. A dagger meant for precision stabbing, not wild cutting, and it's weight and shape was such that a well-directed thrust could send it's sharpened point through even heavy plate mail. As someone who preferred not getting her own hands dirty, it was well suited to her as a weapon of strategic use or last resort.