Small, lithe fairy with ember-scorched cheekbones and a halo of perpetually crackling hair that burns like tinder without ever consuming itself. He drifts rather than walks: a lazy, buoyant gait that makes him seem as if asleep while awake. His smoke trail is thick and blue-green, scented faintly of citrus and pine; it curls in spirals and sometimes forms sleepy faces that vanish. He wears a tunic of woven moss and patchwork bark, threaded with silver moon-foil that shivers under light. Unexpectedly, his left eye is a milky opal — cataract-clouded and calm — while his right is bright silver, sharp as a blade. When he moves, tiny sparks fall from his hair and singe the hem of his cloak, leaving blackened freckles like constellations.