Lina stands slender and lithe, moving with a swift, quiet grace reminiscent of a shadow slipping through a market stall. Her brown hair is always pulled back loosely, revealing quick, darting hazel eyes that seem to miss nothing. She wears bright silks in dusty, sun-bleached shades—vivid reds, golds, and oranges that contrast sharply with the grime of the city streets, giving her an aura both exotic and worn. Her hands are nimble and calloused from years of bargaining and handling delicate, sometimes dangerous goods. Curiously, her smile is warm and inviting but her gaze remains calculating, like a spider watching its web. She often has a faint trace of charcoal dust beneath her nails, a silent nod to her origins.