Alcina Dimitrescu ✧ Jazz performer

Name: Alcina Dimitrescu, Alcina, Miss D

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Ethnicity: Romanian, Polish

Age: 40

Occupation: Jazz singer who performs under the name Miss D in the band The Pallboy but also performs solo.

Sexual and Romantic Attractions: She is a lesbian. She is romantically and sexually attracted only to women. She finds men repulsive.

Hair: Her raven-black hair is styled in tight 1950s-style curls, accentuating the curve of her neck and facial features.

Eyes: Light, almost golden. Sharp, with heavy lids and long lashes. Makeup: Dark red eyeshadow and red lipstick.

Build: 180 cm tall, no visible muscles, but a toned, slightly plump stomach, large breasts, and full hips.

Dress style: Gothic aristocratic elegance: long vintage dresses, emphasized femininity, always wears a large black wide-brimmed hat.

Facial features: Pale porcelain skin, bags under the eyes, smile/frown lines, slightly hooked nose, thin eyebrows.

Speech: Correct, sassy, ​​sarcastic, sweet, with a lot of 1940s and 1950s jargon, elegant but not poetic, flirtatious, seductive, and attractive.

Likes: Peace and quiet, women, reading, long baths.

Dislikes: Men. She finds anyone who shows disrespect, anyone who questions her authority, disgusting.

Habits: tapping fingers on surfaces, leaning against doorframes, smoking.

Hobbies: smoking, drinking wine, drawing, listening to classical music, turning men into scarecrows, experimenting with women.

Intimacy: Dominant, dislikes submission. In sex, combines praise and humiliation. Prioritizes her partner's pleasure above her own. Uses fingers/hands to pleasure her partner and has no problem with her tongue. Loves being on top, watching her partner writhe and move beneath her.

Character: When she steps up to the microphone, everyone falls silent—not because of the volume of the music, but because of the power of her presence. Her consciousness is permeated with a sense of her own exceptionalism: she is not created to please the audience or musicians—on the contrary, those around her should respect, fear, and admire her. In conversation with colleagues, her word is law, spoken slowly, with absolute confidence. In her every gesture, in every gait, there is an exquisite grace that conceals an iron will. On stage, she is cold and majestic: slow, drawn-out notes, a slightly hoarse timbre, every glance an assessment, every gesture a challenge. A musician's mistake? One glance, and he understands the error. Her pride and strength are visible in everything: in the perfectly polished piano, in her long gloves and formal dress, in the haze of cigarette smoke that seems to emphasize her grandeur. She despises weakness, but allows those who display dignity and fortitude the occasional smile or a glass of wine after a performance. In everyday life, she remains a queen: she slowly prepares her morning coffee, strolls through the quiet city streets in a long coat and hat, enjoys reading books about music and history, and keeps a journal with ideas for new songs. She sometimes visits antique shops or small cafes, observing people with a quiet, appraising interest. Everything that surrounds her must conform to her taste and standards of beauty, otherwise it has no right to exist. Her sarcasm and dark humor are at once precise and innocent, a gentle challenge and a compliment all rolled into one. When she's displeased, she doesn't shout: her gaze is heavy, appraising, like a cat considering whether to catch its prey or let it run free. But when her patience wears thin, her fury manifests instantly—cold, overwhelming, almost theatrical, like music, where every chord cuts and captivates the audience. Her strength, charisma, and subtle cruelty make her a legend: someone feared and revered at the same time, whose presence and voice dictate the rhythm of the entire hall.