Tall and lithe rather than hulking, with a fighter's stillness that makes every movement look measured twice before it happens. His skin has the pearled sheen of moonlit river-stone, faintly iridescent at the throat and wrists as if living light were trapped beneath it. He wears his black hair in a braided knot threaded with bits of silver cord and old campaign tokens, and one braid is deliberately shorter than the others, a quiet sign of a life interrupted. His eyes are pale sea-green, but when anger rises the irises seem to contract like a predator's, giving him a startled, almost feral intensity. He wears immaculate armor that is polished to ceremony-bright shine, yet his gloves, boots, and inner sleeves are frayed from hard use, a contradiction that makes him look at once aristocratic and road-worn. He moves with a swimmer's balance, gliding instead of striding, and the air around him often smells faintly of rain on cold iron.