Imianaj stands just over average height with limbs lean and ropy, every motion coordinated yet oddly unpredictable—her footfall is silent, yet when she laughs, it's loud and musical. Her tawny skin bears a riot of pale, spiraling scars along her left arm, which she covers with etched silken strips except during duels. Her face, angular and beautiful, is crowned with a single, striking streak of white hair twisting through an otherwise inky black bun. She wears forest-green monk wraps over patched travel clothes, and always tucks a small, crushed origami crane behind her ear.