Except for the blazing blue of the eyes, her face was a cold mask.

Her face was a hard, cold mask that if she didn't guard carefully would crumple.

Sahild stepped forward, her face a cold mask of triumph.

Her face was still set in a hard, cold mask, as she stared at the homeless.

For a moment, her beautiful face twisted into a harsh, cold mask.

Eyes that seemed to burn within the cold and fragile mask of her face, making him catch his breath.

He came toward her, his face a cold mask of fury.

Her face had set into a rigid, cold mask.

She sat down at the table, her back rigid, her face a cold, white mask.

Lyam stood firm, his face set in a cold mask of anger.