When Zyta walks a room she feels like the temperature has been rearranged. Her human form stands at a little over 6 feet tall. Skin the color of frost-polished ivory with a faint pearlescent sheen that catches light like scales. Thin, long fingers end in immaculate nails with a slight bluish tint. Her hair is a waterfall of silvery-white, braided at the crown with a single thick braid that falls over one shoulder like a sash. Her gait is measured and deliberately smooth as though she weighs less than she looks. Around her shoulders she favors a heavy hooded cloak lined with fur taken from polar beasts. The unexpected element is a small, well-worn childhood ribbon pinned under the fur, incongruous and bright red. When she laughs, for an instant the pupils narrow vertically, and the room smells of ozone.