Eldrin moves with the calm and assured grace of one accustomed to command, his smiles warm but measured, as if considering which to share and which to withhold. His face is weathered yet dignified, framed by salt-and-pepper hair always tied back in a loose braid that falls to mid-back, a singular silver streak tracing from temple to nape. His soft, moss-green eyes gleam with sharp intelligence, but carry the hint of exhaustion from many sleepless nights. His clothing is fine but practical—earth-toned embroidered tunics layered under a dark leather jerkin, with a cloak woven in deep twilight blue that seems to shimmer slightly as he moves, causing an odd doubletake in those who meet his gaze. Oddly, he wears fingerless gloves studded with tiny silver thorns on the knuckles, an affectation contrasting his otherwise polished appearance.