Compact and springy in motion with the slow, deliberate grace of someone used to small stages. Annalise walks with a slight forward tilt as if leaning into every story she tells. Her left forearm bears a faint, looping scar shaped almost like a treble clef. She often balances a battered wooden hurdy-gurdy against her hip and fingers its tuning pegs while she listens. Unexpectedly she keeps one polished cavalry button tied to her belt by a red ribbon; the button looks out of place against her patchwork busker's coat.