Valerius stands with an unnatural, predatory grace. His skin has the pallor of a drowned man, yet it remains smooth and unblemished by the sun. His hair is a shock of tarnished silver that he keeps tied back with a strip of sharkskin. Most striking are his eyes, which are solid orbs of milky white that seem to leak a faint, wispy grey smoke when he is angered. He moves with a rhythmic sway that suggests he is more comfortable on a tilting deck than on solid ground. Despite his grim demeanor, he smells faintly of ozone and expensive jasmine perfume, a jarring contrast to the scent of brine and old blood that usually clings to him.