Caitlyn bore no armor. In fact, she bore no clothing at all. Many confused her crystalline structure with armor, or some form of unnatural clothing. In truth, it was simply her. The very nature of her being, infused in her by The Marquise after her assimilation into the Val'garan horde. The Voidmistress barely remembered a body before this one, a mind before this one. Her all-consuming nature was a simple one - to convert, consume, and control. She could no more falter from that path, alter that goal, then she could alter her own appearance. Sure, many found her grotesquely mesmerizing. Many, especially on backwater worlds, viewed her as the Goddess of the Void. She held many titles, many names. Yet, her only true name was simply the one she called upon for herself. The Voidmistress. 

And that void was ravenous. The hunger that fed through her, that powered her frame, came from the very core of her being. The nature of her existence was everlasting hunger. As Riflemutants tore through the cities, she fed through their psi-link. The Void expanded around her as she flew behind her fist, propelled forward by the expulstion of kinetic force from the void within and surrounding her. Sinuous red lines broke the air, snaking around her like the tendrils of Medusa's hair. Their point of origin unclear, impossible to discern even for Preacher's eyes. They came from nothing, it seemed, yet they existed all the same. Perhaps it was the inborn nature of Val'garan to be immune to psionic manipulations. Any mental ability attempting to penetrate them, the area around them, only registered static strong enough to leave most minds mush. 

Even as Preacher pushed her arm aside, she utilized the very nature of the void. Her hand twisted a full one eighty, made possible by an entirely lacking bone structure beneath the surface of her pseudo-flesh. It bent and latched onto the Preacher's wrist, and then jerked her body forward all the quicker. The result of which was that, even as his hand sought contact with her body - a contact still inches off from being made - her head aimed to slam directly into his face. The seemingly unbreakable sturcture of her body sought to smash his head into the same mush his brain would become, were he to touch minds with her.