Tall, deliberately worn and practical. Skin ink-streaked from years of mapmaking and battlefield blood scrubbing. He keeps his left sleeve pinned up to show a faded tattoo of a ruined watchtower. His movements are efficient, like a blade drawn and sheathed; he favors economy of motion. Unexpectedly, he constantly polishes a tiny carved wooden bird tucked into his breast pocket, smiling for a half-second whenever he handles it.