A lean, willow-limbed elf who moves like wind through reeds — deliberate, economical, as if each step conserves a story. Her skin is mapped with thin bark-lined tattoos that travel up her forearms and neck in fractal patterns; the tattoos are slightly raised and rough to the touch, like healed lichen. She wears a sleeved jurist's robe woven from moss-silk that shifts color with the canopy, embroidered with a lattice pattern matching the swing-bridges of the hall where she adjudicates. Around her shoulders hangs a small living shawl of sprigs and tiny leaves that continues to grow, sometimes sprouting a pale flower when she is emotionally moved. Her left wrist bears a narrow silver cuff etched with sigils of elder oaths; the cuff is dented from a long-ago fall and has never been polished. Unexpectedly, her eyes are a startling bright amber flecked with green veins — warm and immediate — and when she laughs she reveals a single tooth stained dark as if by years of chewing a bitter leaf, an eccentricity that both disarms and bewilders visiting dignitaries.