Vaeril moves with quiet grace, each step measured yet fluid, like a shadow distilling through mist. His complexion is an unusual blend of smooth, pale elven skin against subtle weathering from years exposed to city grime and moonlit nights. His eyes are a piercing storm-gray with a faint amber ring around the pupils, giving off an unsettling flicker of intelligence and concealed menace. His hair is a tousled, ash-brown mane streaked with thin silver strands despite his age, often falling into his face before he brushes it away absentmindedly with a slender, pale hand. Unexpectedly, he wears a delicate silver chainmail glove only on his left hand, shimmering faintly beneath worn dark leather gloves on the right, suggesting both elegance and readiness for danger.