Kairith stands with a rigid, unnatural posture, her magenta skin marked by jagged scars that resemble circuit paths. Her horns are a point of curiosity; the right one is natural ram-like obsidian, while the left is a masterful brass prosthetic leaking faint wisps of steam. Her eyes are solid, pupilless gold that glow brighter when she is agitated. She moves with a jerky, calculated precision, often stopping mid-step to adjust a screw on her gauntlet. Despite her mechanical prowess, she smells unexpectedly of jasmine and burnt ozone, a sensory contradiction that lingers long after she leaves.