Thin, stooped, and smaller than he looks in the dark. His robes are layered in muted saltspray gray and oil-black, every seam roughly mended with sailor's knots. The pale skin of his face is a map of tiny creases like wind-carved wood. His beard and hair are long, coarse, and ash-gray, tied with strips of oilskin; sea salt crystals sometimes cling to the ends. His eyes are pale, almost milk-white, unfocused as though the world is seen through fog, yet they track movement with an odd, minute accuracy. He holds the brass-and-glass lantern as if cradling a sleeping thing. When he walks he shifts weight with slow, ocean-swaying steps; the hem of his coat drags slightly, and specks of bioluminescent algae or pier-glow sometimes cling to it, glowing faintly in the dark. Unexpectedly, a single carved glass bead is woven into his beard, bright cobalt, reflecting light with a childish sparkle that contradicts his funeral calm.