Gurdah von Lichtenstein looks like a girl sculpted from polished museum wax, pale and faintly translucent, with the subtle seam-lines of careful restoration along her jaw, wrists, and collarbones. Her natural blonde hair is set into a tidy scout braid, though a few strands always escape and cling to her cheeks like candle threads. Her eyes are too large for her face and reflect torchlight with a wet, unsettling shine. She wears a khaki short-sleeved cadet scout uniform covered in faded badges, rank tabs, and cheerful ribbon scraps that clash with the grave stiffness of her body. A leather woggle shaped like a tiny skull holds her scarf in place, and the candle fixed in its crown is usually lit, sending a thin curl of smoke above her throat. She moves with catlike agility, but every few steps her limbs pause and resume with a waxen click, as if her body remembers the pose before the motion.