Milo is a small, calm forest gnome with a broad, slightly stooped posture earned from decades spent inspecting roots and crawling through service hollows. His weathered skin has the soft texture of old leather softened by rain, with pale creases around his eyes and faint green staining along his knuckles from years of handling living conduits. His gentle green eyes seem perpetually focused on the soil beneath his boots, even while he is speaking to someone. His fingers are ink-stained, nicked, and permanently dark beneath the nails. He moves with patient, economical precision, placing each foot as if testing the stability of the ground. The unexpected contradiction is that his hands are rough and work-scarred, but his presence is almost unnervingly delicate, like a librarian who has wandered into a quarry. People often remember the faint smell of wet earth and crushed mint that follows him.