Tall and lithe with the classic midnight skin of the drow, he moves like water around stone: deliberate, smooth, and unsettlingly calm. His face is narrow with high cheekbones, a faint silver scar tracing from left temple down to the jaw as if a blade kissed him and spared his life. He keeps his hair in a tightly braided topknot threaded with thin chains of tarnished mithral and a single onyx bead carved with his house sigil. When he walks he favors the outer edge of rooms and rarely steps on thresholds. Unexpectedly, he favors bright white gloves edged with purple embroidery that clash with his otherwise shadowed presentation and draw attention to his hands whenever he gestures.