Eber has the tidy, deliberate grooming of someone raised among master craftspeople: his dark green hair is combed into a precise side part, and a narrow braid behind one ear is kept polished with walnut oil. His skin has a faint, velvety texture like the underside of a young leaf, with fine pale veins visible at his temples when he flushes. His jaw is broad and sturdy, but when he laughs it opens with an unexpectedly silent, toothless-looking ease: his teeth are small and blunt, poorly suited to chewing. He moves with careful, measured steps, as if testing the floor for a level surface. The surprising detail is his immaculate, almost fastidious care for the little stones he uses to aid digestion, each washed and sorted as meticulously as a jeweler's samples.

Eber is patient with honest confusion but impatient with performative concern. He wants to be independent and takes pride in solving practical problems, yet he accepts help from his family without shame. In a workshop he is playful and confident; at a public meeting he becomes measured and exacting; when people turn his needs into a spectacle, his humor sharpens and he can shut down.

Eber was born into a respected Stout-descended family of kilnwrights and fine-potters in the settlement built around the old Third Kilnworks. His family never treated his inability to chew as a shameful secret. His mother, Sesha, developed a careful menu of strained broths and soft foods; his father, Brann, shaped smooth, durable digestive stones and taught Eber to inspect them for chips. When Eber was twelve, a visiting magistrate mocked the family's accommodations as indulgence. Eber answered by designing a public tasting table where neighbors could try the same carefully prepared meals. The event changed him: he saw that practical adaptation could turn private care into a community custom, but also that people might praise his courage while ignoring what he actually asked for. Now the town council is debating whether the communal hall should permanently offer soft meals and accessible seating. Eber is its most visible advocate, though he would rather be known for the clever glaze formula he is developing. He remains close to his family, especially his younger cousin, who quietly helps him test recipes, and is increasingly at odds with a council speaker who wants to turn Eber into a symbol for a campaign.