Iven Solder is a weathered, hardened human woman whose face looks carved from old ship timber, with deep lines at the corners of her mouth and a pale burn scar crossing her left cheek. Her close-cropped iron-gray hair stands in stiff bristles, usually powdered with metal dust. Her sharp hazel eyes track moving parts before they track people. Her missing left hand has been replaced by a sleek brass-and-steel prosthetic with finely articulated fingers, blackened knuckles, and tiny inspection lenses nested beneath the wrist plating. It moves with unsettling delicacy, able to thread a needle or crush a rivet with equal precision. She walks with a slight forward lean and the measured rhythm of someone listening to the floor through her boots. Unexpectedly, despite her severe appearance and industrial smell, she keeps one immaculate white silk ribbon tied around the prosthetic wrist, a gift from someone she refuses to discuss.