Mikel is a narrow-shouldered human man with the compact, weathered body of someone who has spent years climbing ruined watchtowers and sleeping beneath wagons. His movements are quiet but never smooth. He advances in small, deliberate shifts, as if every floor might collapse. His face is sharply planed, with a flattened nose, a split lower lip, and a pale scar that runs from his left temple to the hinge of his jaw. His hands are stained permanently orange from alchemical clay. He gives the impression of a tired predator until he smiles, at which point he looks unexpectedly gentle and almost boyish. The contradiction unsettles people more than his scars do.