Mira is a slim tiefling whose presence seems to occupy more room than her body does. She leans forward when listening, her horns angled like dark question marks, while her long tail continually tests the space behind her for stools, shelves, and ankles. Her skin carries the muted red-brown tone of dried clay after rain, dusted with fine golden flecks around her knuckles like pollen caught beneath the skin. Her fingertips remain stained blue, black, and medicinal green. Mismatched spectacles sit across her nose, one lens round and thick, the other narrow and hexagonal, both bound by brass wire repaired so often it resembles a braid. She moves with quiet, economical precision until excitement takes her, when her tail sweeps cups and elbows aside. Beneath bitter herbs, damp paper, and stove smoke, she smells unexpectedly clean, like freshly peeled pear.