A poised woman who moves like music: quick, economical motions punctuated by a slow, deliberate flourish when she wants attention. Her face is an open book of laugh-lines and old grief; a crescent-shaped burn scar curls along the hollow beneath her left ear. She favors practical hands — strong, knuckled from kneading and polishing — but her fingers bear the faint calluses of a lute player. Her apron is always splattered with grease and soot; beneath it she wears a weathered but well-cared-for dress with embroidered silver threads that catch the light. Contradiction follows her: she wears an elegant silver circlet with elven knotwork over a short, practical haircut and a perpetually smudged thumb from tending the hearth.