Father Thalen moves with a solemn grace unlike most clerics, as if carrying a heavy weight yet refusing to be bowed. His robes are layered loosely, made from coarse linen and soft, worn leather bindings, showing patches where ceremonies or travel have worn them thin. Over the coarse fabric glimmers threads of faint silver embroidery symbolizing forgotten deities, smudged and dulled with time but still emanating a faint, holy glow only in darkness or near death. Unexpectedly, his left eye is milky white, like cataract clouded, giving him the eerie appearance of seeing through realms unseen. Contrasted by his otherwise calm but deeply lined face, every movement Thalen makes is deliberate, flowing like a slow but sure tide, yet candor flashes in his rare but piercing smile.