Slender tiefling of unexpected softness. She moves with a dancer's economy of motion, each step measured as if avoiding invisible snares. Her horns curve backward like polished walnut and are rimmed with tiny carved runes filled with dull silver. Her skin has a velvety plum tone that, in bright light, shows faint star-shaped freckles across her left shoulder. She wears a short, battered cloak lined in moth-eaten crimson that hides the small book of scraps strapped to her chest. When she laughs her voice makes the small bells sewn into her collar sing, and when angry the bells fall silent as if swallowed by the air.