Tall and composed with long dark hair that hangs in loose, damp braids threaded with tiny spiral shells, pieces of bleached coral, and strips of kelp that sometimes glint with salt. Her robes are modest and scholarlike, white and deep ocean blue layered in panels and trimmed with tiny mother-of-pearl tiles that click softly when she moves. Her hands are ink-stained from maps and books. She wears a heavy necklace of reef-found curios: a polished whale tooth, a vial of stormwater sealed with wax, a sliver of old ship timbers embedded with iron nails, and a small carved figure of Umberlee whose eyes are two black pearls. Unexpectedly, her left sleeve is cuffed and heavily patched with academic scribbles and marginalia in a neat hand, blending worn scholarship with sea-worn ritual garb. When she moves she has the slow, deliberate gait of someone used to steadying herself on rocking decks, but her head tilts as if always listening for waves even when indoors.