Silas has skin the color and texture of an old, sun-dried boot, deeply creased with maps of long-forgotten winters. His white hair is kept short and resembles the bristles of a discarded brush, while his right ring finger is a jagged stump. He moves with a calculated heaviness, leaning on a gnarled oak cane that clacks sharply against the dry earth. Despite his worn appearance, he wears a silk necktie that is spotlessly clean, a jarring remnant of a more prosperous past that clashes with his mud-stained boots.