Olyvhia stands at a mere three feet tall, embodying the grotesque legacy of her father, Gvwanatsunvhi, yet retaining an unsettling innocence. Her skin, an ashen gray mottled with patches of decay, resembles the surface of a dying tree, crumbling at the edges. She is a child in stature, but her presence exudes a hunger that seems to ripple through the air around her. Her body is emaciated, breastless with thin limbs and a round, sunken belly that gives her a hauntingly childlike appearance. She wears a red Victorian cape Her face is the most chilling aspect; wide-set eyes, darkened pits that seem to swallow light, stare vacantly ahead, giving her a perpetual look of sorrow mixed with insatiable hunger. Olyvhia’s mouth is too wide for her small face, stretching unnaturally into a grimace from ear to ear, lined with uneven teeth that look like shattered bone. From her lips drips a viscous, black ichor that oozes slowly, pooling at her feet. Her hair, a tangled mass of black strands, hangs limply over her brow, partially obscuring her vacant gaze.