Theren carries himself like a blade in velvet: precise, measured, and practiced. He wears an open-faced helm slung at his hip more as a symbol than protection and walks with the economy of a seasoned duelist. His armor gleams faintly where light catches filigreed runes; underneath is a dark green doublet embroidered with constellations in silver thread. He favors a long, tasseled cloak that rustles like pages when he moves. Unexpectedly, a child's braided ribbon—faded blue and frayed—ties a lock of his hair above his ear, a small incongruity that softens his otherwise courtly presence. Up close, one notices tiny notches on the pommel of his sword: a private tally. In motion he alternates between an aristocratic glide and a duelist's step, making him look equally at home in a throne room or a tavern brawl.