Tall, like a living column of stormwater and steel. Her skin has the texture of polished river stone that is occasionally veined with thin blue luminescence. Lightning sometimes crawls for a heartbeat along her forearms before vanishing. She walks with the slow, deliberate rhythm of someone who counts steps in battle. Unexpectedly, she carries a small, fabric-wrapped lute at her hip, the strings salted by rain and rarely played except in private. Her expression when calm is serene; when angered she smiles with the ease of a carved statue suddenly split by lightning.