Theron is a sharp, meticulously kept human man who looks carved out of old ivory and weathered law. His face is lean and tired, with a mouth that rarely relaxes and a scar hidden beneath his collar where an assassin once missed his throat by a finger's width. He moves with controlled, almost ceremonial precision, yet his left hand sometimes trembles when he is angry. The contradiction that lingers around him is his clothing: every line of his formal attire is immaculate, but his cuffs are always stained faintly with ink and candle wax from late-night work in rooms no noble should ever have to enter.