Sionnach moves like someone who has both practiced choreography and stood in a forge. She glides with catlike balance when walking the docks and plants her feet like a hammer when striking. Her skin is lightly freckled from sun and salt, with a thin pale burn scar running from the left jawline down across her collar. She keeps one hand always gloved in a fingerless leather mitt studded with tiny brass gears purchased from her father's old bench. Her presence projects tidy severity, but when she laughs it is quick and unguarded, revealing an unexpected crooked canine tooth that people later swear they saw sparkle faintly in moonlight.