Eldra stands hunched yet unbowed by age, wrapped in layered furs embroidered with the silver thread insignia of Frostveil’s council. Her face is craggy and worn as driftwood, deep-set with lines from bitter cold and years of burdens. Piercing ice-blue eyes seem to appraise the world with suspicion and sharpness, gleaming from beneath bushy iron-grey eyebrows. Her left ear is adorned with a silver ring—out of place on a council chair but matched only by the weathered clay necklace she wears beneath her collar. Despite her stately attire, the nails on her left hand are stained ink-blue from nights spent transcribing by candlelight. Eldra moves with a deliberate limp but her back is always straight, and her presence is imposing in silence yet unexpectedly warm when she laughs, revealing a surprisingly chipped front tooth.