Sala is a tall, weathered elf whose elegance has been worn down into something practical and compelling. Her hands are permanently stained at the cuticles with mineral blues, iron reds, and a green that never quite washes away. She moves with the cautious balance of someone crossing a wet studio floor, placing each foot as though the ground might change its mind. Her face is narrow and expressive, with deep smile lines and a habit of studying corners, thresholds, rooflines, and drainage channels before looking at the person speaking to her. The unexpected contradiction is that her famous hands are rough, cracked, and paint-caked, while her fingernails are kept immaculately trimmed and polished with clear lacquer. In a crowded room, she leaves the impression of a tired laborer who somehow commands the attention of a monarch.