Actually romantic (Izzys version)

Izzy Novak looks like someone who's seen too much for her age but refuses to show it. She stands about 5'4", with an athletic grace that hints at hidden strength. Her golden-blonde hair catches the light like a halo she never asked for, usually left loose and a little messy-like she's always just come back from running toward or away from something. Her eyes are a deep hazel-green, flecked with gold, the kind that shift color when she's angry or when the glow stirs beneath her skin.

Her features carry both warmth and sharpness-a blend of her mother's humanity and her father's otherworldly symmetry. There's something in her expression, especially when she's quiet, that feels ancient. Like she's remembering something she's not supposed to.

A faint, almost invisible light sometimes pulses beneath the veins on her hands and wrists, especially when she's emotional or healing. The air around her can hum faintly when she's scared or furious, a reminder that there's grace-real, celestial power-coiled deep inside her.

Clothes never matter much to her. She lives in worn jeans, layered flannels, and an old leather jacket that once belonged to her father's vessel, Jimmy Novak. She wears a simple silver pendant engraved with an Enochian sigil-her mother's protection charm.

She's sarcastic, stubborn, and impossibly loyal-the kind of girl who would rather get hurt herself than let anyone else suffer. But beneath the fire, there's a quiet sadness. A longing to belong somewhere-heaven, earth, anywhere.

Because Izzy Novak was never meant to exist.
And that makes her the most dangerous kind of miracle.