Silas is a man defined by heavy contrasts. He possesses the pointed ears and slender grace of his elven mother, but his frame is rugged and his hands are thick with the callouses of a human laborer. His skin is a deep, ruddy tan, like old leather left in the rain. His most striking feature is the way he moves; he never enters a room so much as he slips into it, eyes always scanning the ceiling and corners. He smells faintly of clove, pine resin, and woodsmoke, and he always wears a silver-plated heavy ring on his thumb which he uses to tap rhythmic patterns against the wooden bar when the sun begins to set.