Immaculate, lithesome elf of ageless poise. Silver hair is pulled into a long, narrow tail that hangs to his mid-back; each strand seems almost too fine, like spun mercury. His face is sharply angular but smooth, the hollows carefully maintained; thin-framed glasses perch low on a nose bridge scored with faint arcane sigils that pulse when he thinks. Green-gold eyes glimmer not with warmth but with a lattice of arcane circuitry visible at close range — threads of pale light that rearrange like a schematics projection when he studies a problem. He wears a long, charcoal coat tailored to his frame, the back embroidered with a stylized raven skull in blackened wire and metallic thread. The coat's lining is lined with pockets and glass canisters. His left hand is an intricate prosthetic of living steel: polished plates that move with uncanny quiet, brass filigree and small glass lenses inset in the knuckles. When he walks, his movements are precise and economical, like a clockwork dancer; unexpectedly, he has a habit of breaking that rigid rhythm with one small, animal gesture — a soft, involuntary tilt of the head, as if listening for something only he can hear.