Vaelyndra moves with the lithe grace of a cat stalking shadows, her every step seeming measured yet unpredictable. Her skin has a delicate bronze sheen with faint veins glowing like ember-lit fountains ebbing and flowing rhythmically beneath her skin. Her long hair cascades in a riot of auburn and deep purple autumn leaves, as if woven from the forest floor mid-fall, changing subtly with her moods. When she is focused or wary, her violet eyes flash with sparks of frost, a contradictory cold in her otherwise warm visage. Contradicting her ethereal beauty is an ever-present crooked smirk and a faint scar etched in the shape of an hourglass running down her left temple—she touches it absentmindedly when deep in thought.