So far I have only introduced one of my POV characters, and I haven't really thought a great deal about how she looks because it is not particularly relevant to the story so far. She is average height and build, she is physically fit as a necessity for her role, she has a skin head which is growing out, again as a necessity due to her circumstances. That's all I really know and all the reader really needs to know (I'm sure they can use their imagination to fill in details). However, I hope her personality is told in a lot more detail through her various actions and interactions.
Getting old and past his years. Attempts at glory in his youth have left him drained of everything he was, and despite the fact he still maintains a decent, stocky build, his age is starting to show. His hair has grayed prematurely from the stress of command, and only some black hairs remain on his and around his mouth. He rarely smiles, and cold cynicism has replaced much of what he used to be, and he doesn't really know who or what he is anymore.
Martin, who is one of the main POVs in my WIP fantasy story, looks kind of like me. That is late 20s - Early 30s, average height, slightly chubby, short, slightly receeding black hair, perma-stubble with hints of grey in it. A couple of the other POVs haven't really got detailed descriptions yet, although the main female POV is meant to look a bit like Ellen Page.
Emilia (Emi) A 23 year old woman with the kind of radient confidence that people notice. She is Irish and Puerto Rican, large almond hazel brown eyes, a round up-turned nose, small but cute bow shaped lips. her skin is self described "porcelain gold" and she gets a summer speckling of freckles across her nose and cheeks for which she just began to appreciate so much that she no longer wears the heavy makeup she used to. She is 5'5, her hair is bleached platinum hair that she curls everyday for vintage classic hollywood style waves despite the humidity causing her hair to turn into a gravity defying frizz by mid day. She has accepted the frizz with the mantra "people with crazy hair are always a genuis, like albert enstein and carrie bradshaw" her body is slender pear shaped, with round hips and thick legs her mother calls "olympic squatter legs". She feels her body is hard to dress, but loves to wear figure flattering clothes that show off her curves. She also walks with a hip sway which she says is something you just can't help when you have thick thighs. Shakayla - baby faced 21 year old African American with deep honey brown skin. Has large almond shaped black eyes, long curly eyelashes tha always catched everyone's attention, and full pouty lips. She is a bit heavier than she would like to be, despite her insecurities with her weight, she presents herself to the world with a chic, bold style and strong confidence. She is 5'8-5'10 so she loves to show off her long curvy legs in skinny denim, sequined, or patterned pants. Also apart of her signature look is a variety of vivid lipsticks:yellow, blue, orange, hot pink, pastel pink, red black... it's all about the legs, the lips, the converse sneakers - and the hair. Saysha changes her hairstyles often due to weaves, sometimes she wears a blue "mermaid hair" weave, sometimes it's a tightly curled afro, or a cute face framing, pixie cut. Two friends jump at the opportunity to live in the city and become roomates when emi's uncle gives them a great rent deal in his eccentric city building.
Two descriptions, both taken from the early middle of my novel which is set in Montana, in 1886. These may read as if the story is a romance, but it's not. The love story between my two main characters, Joe and Jessie, is vital to the story, but it's not the point of it. They actually get together in the middle of the novel, not the end. Anyway, here are two pivotal moments, where each of the characters 'sees' the other through new eyes. How he sees her (the moment Joe realises he loves Jessie): (Incident from early in the story, recollected by Joe near the middle of the novel.) Later—much later—after hours and hours of luxurious, healing oblivion, he had come fully awake, feeling cleansed, alert, free of pain, light and cool as a flake of snow. When he turned his head on the pillow to look for her, she was sitting close beside him, rocking in her chair, knitting under the rounded glow of the lamp. In relief, and in silence, he lay and watched her. She had rolled the sleeves of her brown dress to above her elbows, and her lap was full of creamy wool, her hands swift and sure with the long needles. One forefinger passed over another so rapidly his eyes were unable to dissect the movement, and after a while he gave up and allowed the pattern to unfurl like a conjurer’s trick, evolving as if by slow magic into the ribbed cuff and cabled sleeve of a pullover. She glanced up every so often to smile at him, to include him, before letting her attention drop back to the wool again. He lay and watched her, feeling another kind of pain growing in his heart. He longed to stroke her bare arms, to cup her delicately flushed cheeks between his hands, to draw the tortoiseshell combs from her abundance of curling black hair, to feel it slipping like dark water between his fingers and tumbling its soft cascade across his own bare chest and shoulders. He lay in the uncomplicated peace of that little room, knowing that he loved her already, knowing that he wanted—more than anything—to join his body to hers, to ease himself into that serene spirit, to bury himself forever in the refuge that waited for him there. How she sees him (the moment Jessie realises she loves Joe.) The moment his eyes first opened into hers had provided the greatest shock of her life. All her days since that moment had been charged with value, with significance, with something she had never tried to name. But now she knew it had a name. —the warmth of his hands against her cold face, carefully wiping the snow away so he could see her better— She willed herself shivering back to the present, filling her heart with the sight of him now—here—now—in Carver’s barn, with dancers, laughter, music and company swirling between. Lantern light beamed down, flicking sparks off his mane of crisp black hair as he moved. His face was half-turned from her, dusky cheek tucked against the honey-gold of his fiddle while his quick wrist sent the bow snapping like graceful lightning across the strings. He had closed his eyes, but the whole of his strong, compact body was in confident motion as he freed the notes, caught up inside the tune he was playing, conveying musical cues for others to follow by the dip and sway of his shoulders, the long sweeps of his bowing arm and the vigorous driving strokes of his elbow. He maintained a steady thumping rhythm with his boot heel, containing the spirited rawness of the tune, taming it a little and licking it into shape. The others followed willingly, going wherever he chose to take them. Jessie’s insides twisted with sudden physical hunger. Ben?—never Ben—not like this. I don’t understand, she had pleaded with him, terrified, hurt beyond imagining, and there had been such hopeless fury in his reply. That’s right, Jessie. You don’t. Another painful flash of memory—his mouth twisting down into that gently bitter smile of his. The little brother you never had...? The music stopped. Jessie held her breath too. For a moment his head and Rob’s were close together, conferring, then he nodded. Light caught the edge of his cheekbone, the quick flash of his smile, as he turned, lifted his bow— —oh, I love you so much. This is how it’s supposed to feel.
Lemme try... My Sci-Fi Protagonist "How would you describe yourself? Physically?" Helen looked at the alien creature. Bug-liked, yet with the capacity of reason and curiosity. She took a deep breath. No harm in telling. "I'm a six-foot tall female human with brown skin, short black, curly hair and, I suppose, piercing brown eyes if you want to be poetic about it." She paused. Should she mention the brutal scar on her left thigh, left behind from a battle decades ago. No, no too private. Let's see, she thought. What can I reveal? She smiled when the answer came to her. "I do have a tattoo on my right arm. Want to see?" She pulled up the sleeve to show the curious red and blue markings that cris-crossed and circled each other. "Got it from a bet. Word of advice: never take on a bet you know you can't keep." She watched the creature's mandibles click as the head seem to 'nod' in understanding. "A wise advice," the creature said. My Fantasy Protagonist Clunky. Long-limbed. Starved. Blind. Hardly what one would imagine if told that Mishu Jerni was a member of the Empire's secret intel force. Her face was too puffed, her skin pale and mottled with pockmarks. Her speech was slurred and thick, much like her planning skills. She attacks without thinking. She barrels in without logic. Mishu smiled, brushed her dirt-blonde hair away from her face, feeling the cold raindrops running down her cheeks. Her crimson tunic was drenched, her brown trousers covered with mud and grime. This is the life. Her lips pulled back to reveal crooked teeth. This is her life. She hunched down behind a stone wall, listening for movement. Listened for that tell-tale murmur of the target approaching. The simmering energy of life, the throbbing pulse of magical energy. “Just like I like it...” she whispered.
Actually, I visually base a lot of my protagonists on real people. When I visualise Brooks from my segment in the workshop, he is loosely based on Robert Loggia from his BIG days. Visually, not personality wise.
I'm with a number of others who have said they have basic features in place for their character, but haven't really got 'the whole picture' of their aesthetics. My MC is petite, has caramel hair and blue eyes. I have no idea if she has a heart shaped face or a rigid jaw, but what I can tell you about her appearance in general is as follows: She hunches her shoulders, wears clothes that hang to hide her figure, keeps her hair in a tight bun or hanging around her face like a curtain, has an almost permanently impassive expression and a sharp gaze. At first glance, she looks frightened: that's to distract you from the fact she's holding a knife.
Pale skin. A dusting of freckles. Button nose. Round face. Green eyes. Short black hair in a scruffy mess. Short, slender, underweight and bony. 14. Female. Flat chested. Covered in scars and bruises.
My MC is a giant super soldier that is 10 feet tall has rigid blue skin and his "hair" is orange and needle like scarcely scattered on the top of his head, he has a pointy elongated head and elongated elf like ears. He wears a suit that allows him to shrink down and turn into any human/alien of his choice (he has to scan another being first). Also in it's regular form it can create guns from nowhere that form in his hand from parts of his suit (think of those things from the transformer extinction movie except much larger).
Ok, but just one. Middle aged in appearance (though far older due to being in and out of cryo stasis estimated real age 275). Going through a bit of a midlife crisis, and is a ruthless killer and commander. Though he hides his soft side from those around him. Wears a gasmask to hide his burnt up facial features, calls it his war face. Terran in origin, standing at 1.93 meters, and weighing in at 83.91 kilos solid muscle. Is highly informal in dress preferring to wear fatigue pants and a tank top, and heavy issue boots. Has dark brown eyes that are almost black. Has a weird sense of humor (often gets lost on his alien allies). Goes into combat with a .50 caliber pistol he thinks of as his wife. Also wears a heavy armor trench coat that disperses the majority of bullet impacts, but it really pisses him off to be shot as well as hurts him to a lesser degree. When pushed will go into a blood lust, and get up close and personal for kills using a combat knife or his bare hands. Stubborn as a mule (beat a locked metal door down with a war hammer once) because losing is not an option for him. One way to really stab at him is to mess with his general/adopted daughter Zlada Volkov (AKA Red Wolf). Though it is never a good idea because he will do anything to get her back or save her life. She is a vicious thing (beat an enemies face to a pulp with metal knuckles after he raped her).