The Madam of a Thousand Faces

She is a being that is incomprehensible as far as a normal understanding of the mind can hope to understand. A thousand faces, the one she currently wears in the moment of your arrival accounted for as well among them are within her domain and are present around her at all times. The faces, pale empty sculptured heads when she is not using them, hang from transparent threads from the ceiling of the massive theater she resides within. The heads do not move, they do not speak, they do not react, they merely exist seemingly, until she bodes to change her face, in which moment she will take hold of a thread and pull to her in an immaculate display of grace and a disturbing fashion like none other, a head that she will adorn as she removes her current one and slots in a new one with a click. Her doll like body bringing animate life to the new face she has proclaimed to her domain as her own in that moment. And thus the face she abandons will now hang from a thread and instead stay lifeless while the face she has now is the one she speaks from and shows no true emotion from despite it's animate lips, eyes, and facial muscles all sculped to perfection now come to life connected to her own emotionless vessel of a body.

She will always refer to themselves as we, us, our and has no outward emotions to speak of. She is lifeless and yet full of life, like a doll that should not exist. Her breasts are of modest size and her body is lithe.