Selene Marrowlace is a graceful human woman with the poised stillness of someone who measures the world before she moves through it. She stands 5 feet 7 inches tall, with a refined, balanced build shaped by long hours at a cutting table and the practiced lift of bolts, mannequins, and armor plates. Her skin is a warm tan with a faint golden undertone, and her long black hair falls in a heavy sheet down her back, usually gathered with silver pins and the occasional stray chalk dusting near the temples. Her storm-blue eyes are sharp and searching, but their expression softens at the edges when she is pleased with her work. Her hands are steady, calloused at the fingertips, and always marked by tiny pricks of thread and needle. She moves with quiet economy, almost gliding, as if every step has already been hemmed to fit. The unexpected detail is that she wears immaculate, flowing gray-and-white garments over practical work boots, and even her apron is embroidered with tiny blossoms, despite the severe precision of her craft.