Branik is a stocky Chromavaft man with a living palette of muted jewel tones rippling beneath skin that shifts like dyed silk in water. His shoulders are broad but always slightly hunched from years over a worktable, and he moves with a seamster's precise economy, every step measured as if walking around invisible dress forms. His hands are scarred, elegant tools, the fingertips stained in ever-changing hues of ink, chalk, and dye. The most memorable thing about him is the contrast between his severe, almost stern expression and the absurdly cheerful cascade of ribbons that spill from his sleeves whenever he gesticulates. He smells faintly of lavender, hot metal, and rain-soaked wool.