Miri moves like a contained storm. Her coat of copper-threaded fabric fans and crackles faintly at the seams where aether leaks. Her left forearm is a polished brass brace studded with tiny lenses and rotating cogs that whirr with each gesture. She wears goggles perched on her forehead but often flips them down for effect during demonstrations. Her right sleeve is singed at the cuff, the leather flaking in a pattern that looks almost deliberate. When she laughs, sparks jump along the edges of the brass brace. Unexpected element: despite the mechanical austerity she favors, she keeps a single living thing on her shoulder, a small amber-feathered sparrow that whistles tunelessly and is oddly calm around volatile devices.