She moves like sunlight across still water. Her robe is the color of dawn with faint golden threads that catch light when she moves. Her face is serene, almost sculpted, with fine laugh lines and a faint scar bisecting her left eyebrow a reminder of a long ago pilgrimage. She has a faint, ever present halo of dust motes that swirl near her shoulders when she stands in direct light. Unexpectedly, her right sleeve is singed and patched in a rough, utilitarian manner that clashes with her otherwise immaculate bearing.