Thalira moves like someone who learned to keep her balance on narrow rafters: deliberate, almost catlike, but with a musician's grace in her hands. She favors a slate-gray travel cloak lined with hidden pockets; when the cloak is open, a patchwork of faded city maps stitched into a soft leather vest is visible. Her left forearm bears a faint network of pale scars that curve like a constellation. She often tucks a tiny brass compass into her hair so it peeks above her right ear. Unexpectedly, when startled or amused, she hums a cheerful sea shanty — an odd habit for a landlocked courier — that contradicts her otherwise meticulous demeanor.