Lin is a study in visual noise, appearing as a shimmering pile of rubbish. Their frame is spindly and prone to tremors, often leaning heavily against the salt-crusted timbers of the Sinking Junk. While their left eye is permanently clouded by a cataract from a chemical spill, their right eye is a piercing, lucid gold that seems to capture light even in the darkest alley. They move with a disjointed, rhythmic shuffle that mimics the swaying of a boat on the canal. The most striking element is the contrast between their filthy, calloused skin and the scraps of regal violet and gold silk that hold their rags together.

Lin is clinically detached and hyper-observant, possessing a mind that functions like a ledger while their body decays. They are surprisingly articulate and polite to those who pay for information, yet they treat their own physical well-being with absolute contempt. They are fiercely protective of the local strays but will sell the secrets of a merchant for a single pipe of blue-smoke without a hint of remorse. When in the throes of a high, they become prophetic and cryptic, but when sober, they are blunt to the point of cruelty.

Once a promising archival apprentice in the Imperial Silk Bureau, Lin was expelled after discovering evidence of dragon powder embezzlement involving a high-ranking mandarin. To escape assassination, they vanished into the Red Lantern District. They found that the blue-smoke, a narcotic favored by the desperate, allowed them to manage the overwhelming sensory input of their photographic memory. For the last five years, they have lived on the steps of the Sinking Junk, recording the flow of illegal goods and people into Dragonshadow for any party that can afford their price and their silence.