Winston moves with a fluid grace that seems barely tethered to the waking world; his gestures are precise yet dreamlike, as if an echo of some other reality lingers around him. His once jet-black hair is streaked with strands of silver pulled back into a loose knot behind his head, revealing a faintly luminescent birthmark in the pattern of an intricate clockwork gear inscribed on his left temple. Despite his somewhat gaunt frame, his eyes blaze a surreal shade of opaline blue that shifts subtly in color with his mood, giving an unsettling impression of depths not meant to be plumbed. He dresses in multi-layered robes of woven midnight blues and smoky grays that seem to absorb the light, embroidered with shifting silver runes that occasionally glimmer like starlight. An oddity stands out: a worn pair of leather boots, scuffed and mundane, grounding his otherwise ethereal style. He smells faintly of old parchment and night-blooming jasmine.