Sóleyra is a young human woman whose presence seems to subtract itself from a room. She stands perfectly upright, never fidgeting, with squared shoulders and an economical stillness that makes every movement feel premeditated. Her youthful face is symmetrical and almost ordinary at first glance, with a narrow jaw, thin straight nose, and lips usually pressed into a professional line. Her deep brown eyes are sharp enough to make people feel inventoried, yet there is a quiet warmth in them when she thinks nobody is looking. Her short dark hair is combed into such precise order that it resembles a polished cap. She wears an immaculate obsidian cloak over a high-collared linen tunic, but the contradiction is in her hands: the cuffs are repeatedly repaired with tiny, nearly invisible stitches, while her simple silver chain bracelet is polished obsessively and worn thin where her fingers touch it. She moves like a clerk crossing a crowded archive, turning sideways before obstacles exist. Within a minute of meeting her, most people notice that she never lets her back face a door, even in harmless offices.