Long crimson hair usually tied into a loose, wind-swept topknot with several short, wispy strands escaping. Magic markings in an ink-dark teal run like fine filigree up her arms and legs and in a single neat line up her spine; they pulse faintly when she breathes deeply. Deep emerald eyes sit beneath a scattering of warm, copper freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her skin bears the faint sheen of constant training: a satin surface of scars that catch light like old coin edges. She moves with a lithe, spring-slow quality: deliberate when listening, lightning-quick when striking. The unexpected element: she wears a child's knitted scarf, cheerful yellow with moth-eaten spots, wrapped at her waist like a belt — a visible softness on an otherwise austere silhouette.