Alistar stands tall with a slight, almost nervy stature framed by a shock of unruly ash-brown hair that looks perpetually wind-tousled. His sharp, inquisitive amber eyes flicker constantly, darting like data points scanning a code. His smooth, pale skin seems almost translucent under candlelight, contrasting oddly with the rough texture of his well-worn, patch-covered leather cloak. Though his movements have a jittery nervousness—quick, darting steps and biting lip—when he works magic, his fingers ripple with a fluid grace, as if typing on an invisible keyboard. The most unexpected feature is a delicate, threadbare violin bow strapped to his back, a relic from a life abandoned but never fully escaped.