Liz is something of a social chameleon, capable of quickly gauging what tactics will most appeal to an individual or motley. She can play innocent and helpless with equal ease as playing hard and determined but in a bind. Those who interact with her true personality, as much as she still has one, discover a woman utterly hardened by her experiences. She kidnaps others not only
to feather her own bed, but because she enjoys it. Inflicting pain on those around her has become the only joy she truly takes from what remains of her life.

Liz is not a cackling madwoman or moustache-twirling villain. Instead, she comes off as being very calm, collected and calculating. Her vocal tone tends toward dark and even (unless she is playing at helplessness and fear), and her pale eyes are incredibly hard and unfeeling. She possesses no ability to sympathize with others, and even those who have suffered similarly to her will fail to elicit commiseration from her. Instead, she may act even more heartlessly toward those who haven’t seen the truth of the world and grown a spine. Liz tends to drape herself in rough, handmade clothing that hangs loosely from her thin frame. Her body is thin and wiry, her prominent clavicles and flat chest giving her a youthful appearance that belies her age and experience. She wears her dark hair cut to chin length, and her eyes seem strangely pale, as if she is developing cataracts.

Behind the mask, Liz looks much the same, though her skin is smooth and flawless, her hair perfectly combed, her nails clean and smooth even after hours of manual labor in the Hedge. Her eyes appear hard and pearlescent, as if the original orbs have been plucked out and replaced with gems of the deep. Liz dresses exclusively in iridescent Hedgespun she crafts herself, and
a halo of shimmering lights always hovers about her head at about brow level, like the rings of Jupiter. A sweet scent of honeysuckle seems to accompany her at all times.