Kater stands with a calm, deliberate grace, her movements precise as if measured in the beat of a forge's hammer. Her skin bears the faint, mottled sheen of metal dust—like pewter dust clinging in patches on her forearms, contrasting with smooth olive tones. Her dark, iron-gray hair is cropped short in rebellious curls, streaked unexpectedly with shimmering silver strands that flicker unnaturally in candlelight, a subtle sign of her spectral inhabitant. Her eyes glow faintly blue when she’s deep in thought or under stress — a ghostly shimmer betraying the dragon inside. She often wears a heavy leather apron, scarred and patched from years of toil, over practical, soot-stained clothes. Despite her grounded smithy exterior, an ethereal light sometimes seems to ripple beneath her skin, an uncanny contradiction to her earthy presence.