Ketta is a slim young human woman with a narrow waist, long arms, and the balanced posture of someone accustomed to moving along rooftops and ship rigging. Her face is soft-cheeked and cheerful at first glance, with large dark eyes that seem almost flirtatious until they settle on a lie. She moves with relaxed precision, never quite standing still, often shifting her weight as if feeling an invisible deck beneath her feet. Her light skin carries a warm golden undertone and a faint sheen from constant use of citrus oil and saltwater soap. Her hair is cropped at the jaw on one side and falls in a thick, uneven wave on the other, giving her a lopsided silhouette. The unexpected element is her hands: broad-palmed, heavily callused, and marked by tiny punctures from years of sewing, they look more like a sailmaker's than a dancer's. Within a minute of meeting her, most people notice that she smells strongly of lemon peel, damp linen, and iron, though she insists the iron is only in their imagination.