Mijka is a weathered halfling with a narrow face, broad hands, and the compact, spring-loaded posture of someone accustomed to crawling through wreckage. Their skin is roughened by ash storms and old chemical burns, with a pale seam running from the left temple to the corner of the mouth. Their hair hangs in uneven silver-brown ropes, usually tied with electrical wire. They move with extraordinary quiet, placing each foot as if testing whether the earth still deserves their weight. Their smile is warm and almost grandmotherly, but their eyes remain watchful even while laughing. The contradictory impression is that of a kindly scavenger who looks more at home beside a cooking fire than a corpse, yet instinctively measures every room for exits, hiding places, and throwable objects.