Tall and sinuous in a way that seems to bend light around him. He moves with the slow surety of someone used to narrow tunnels but with sudden, almost playful shifts like a cat. His skin carries the pale translucence of cave-dwelling things but with veins that shimmer faintly like trapped aurora. He wears a cloak woven of moth-silk and bits of fungus, threaded with tiny chips of mirror that click softly when he walks. Unexpectedly, he keeps a crown of living moss looped in his hair that sprouts a different tiny wildflower every season, an odd contrast to the dark, mineral dust collected on his boots.