Halbrid is a weathered Varisian man with a long, narrow face, broad hands, and the compact balance of someone who has spent decades walking where the ground moves. He does not stride through the reeds so much as place each foot after asking the mud a question. His clothes look repeatedly repaired rather than neglected: a brown wool coat has green thread at the elbows, his trousers are wrapped below the knee in waxed strips of old sailcloth, and one carefully polished copper button sits among mismatched bone toggles. He carries himself with quiet economy, never wasting a gesture. The unexpected thing about him is his gentleness around delicate objects. He handles broken pottery, insects, and even a stranger's glass as if each might bruise.