Caelis moves with the smooth, deliberate grace of a seasoned hunter, his lean frame cloaked in mottled greens and browns that let him fade into forest shadows. His weathered face is framed by jagged strands of ash-blond hair, often tangled with pine needles and leaves, betraying hours spent in dense woodland. His piercing steel-gray eyes constantly scan the surroundings, sharp and restless. An unexpected contradiction lies in the wide, almost boyish grin he wears when relaxed — a softness rare in his scarred expression. His hands are calloused, but his fingertips bear faint stains of ink from secret sketches he draws of flora and fauna in a battered leather journal. His gait is purposeful yet cautious, with a faint limp on his left ankle, masking a hardened resilience.