Captain Serah Venn is tall even for an elf, with the spare, weathered grace of someone carved by years of drills, marches, and bad winters rather than beauty alone. Her throat bears a pale, rope-like scar that interrupts every sentence with a faint rasp, as if her words must pass through old fire before reaching the air. She moves with a clipped, economical stride, never wasting a step, yet her hands are surprisingly delicate, almost scholarly, as though she is forever measuring invisible angles in the air. Her face is sharp and ascetic, with a hawk-like nose, one eyebrow that never quite rests level, and dark laugh lines that suggest humor she rarely allows herself. She wears a contradiction of polished officer's fittings and practical mended cloth: a battle coat reinforced with stitched leather, a silvered brooch of the Umelia school, and one sleeve patched with bright thread that looks almost ceremonial. The impression she leaves is of a campfire kept under strict control, warm only to those who know how to stand close without getting burned.