Veyra is a striking tiefling woman with satin-dark crimson skin that seems almost lacquered in stage light, and tiny gold flecks that catch on her cheekbones like spilled makeup. Her horns sweep back in two elegant ridges, then kink outward near the tips, their grooves filled with pale silver paint she renews before every performance. She moves with the practiced sway of a dancer, but there is a soldier's economy to her hands, as if every gesture is rehearsed for both music and combat. The odd contradiction is her right glove, always immaculate white velvet, while the left hand is bare and scarred, the fingers stained faintly black from old soot and old grief.