I may as well paint you a picture.  Covered in darkness, I am freckled from head to toe with twinkling, stolen starlight. Aglow with a subtle phosphorescence, with midnight black hair and brilliantly white eyes, for a ll intents and purposes I appear quite cartoonish. This has to do with the excessive amount of dark matter in my being, the accumulated wealth of several hundreds of digested stars and their occasional counterparts, black holes.  A considerable amount of my time is spent gathering this energy into myself, devising clever ways of tricking celestial bodies to unhinge their majesty, that I might drink them in like cosmic soup. There are many astral beings, deities and demons in the universe, but as far as I know I alone have starlight flowing through my veins, sinewed with dark matter as my flesh and bone.