Noor stands like a walking paradox. His skin is a pale, almost chalky white with a faint warmth under certain lights. The white is not smooth like porcelain but marked with tiny raised scars and a faint net of old stress lines around his joints, as if the skin remembers a colder life. His red eyes are bright and serrated at the iris, giving a constant, ember-like look that makes some folk call him 'lantern-faced'. He carries himself with the deliberate weight of someone who learned every movement with violence and then re-learned them with mercy. When he moves in sunlight his amulet hums and beads of perspiration seem to catch gold light. Contrary element: despite the brutal heft of his frame and war-hardened posture, his hands are prone to gentle, almost theatrical flourishes when he speaks about faith or music. Those gestures are soft and careful as a baker's touch on dough.