Tall for a half-elf but lithe, Mireth moves like a story being told rather than like one being walked. Her left sleeve is always rolled high, revealing a faded tattoo of a map fragment that shifts slightly when she is nervous. She carries a battered leather folio full of pressed theatre tickets, letters, and a single pressed iris. Her boots are scuffed in the same peculiar crescent on the right toe as if she always turns on that side. Unexpectedly, she wears a child's bright yellow mitten on her right hand when writing letters, a small ritual that softens the ink and her temper.