Lyranthiel moves with a rhythmic, gliding grace that remains utterly still despite the constant buzzing floor of Vesper's Wake. She has skin the color of polished porcelain with a faint iridescent sheen from years of prismatic smoke exposure. Her hair is a metallic platinum, braided tightly with copper wires to ground herself against the city's static. She wears a heavy brass visor equipped with six rotating magnifying lenses that click loudly as she switches focus. Despite her elegance, her fingertips are stained with black obsidian dust and have grown calloused and hard like the stones she cuts.