Kaelen is a weathered human man with the compact, economical build of someone trained to move through crowded streets without touching anyone. His face is narrow and wind-chapped, with a faint white scar crossing the left jawline like a hurried pencil stroke. His dark hair has been cut unevenly with a utility knife, leaving one stubborn lock that continually falls over his right eyebrow. He stands almost motionless until he moves, then crosses a room in abrupt, silent increments, as if each step has already been measured on a municipal floor plan. His hands are scarred across the knuckles and fingertips, and his coat smells faintly of lamp oil, wet brick, and iron filings. The unexpected contradiction is his smile, which is startlingly gentle and boyish when he forgets to suppress it, making him look less like a hardened agent and more like someone who once expected the world to be repairable.