Tall and spare, she moves with a precise, machine-like economy; each step sounds faintly metallic as if hidden gears click beneath her skin. Her crimson skin is streaked with faint, iridescent circuitry that pulses a cold azure when she speaks arcane words. One horn curves back like a polished black ram's, the other is cropped and capped with a brass sigil that hides a micro-lens. Her left forearm is a filigreed prosthetic of burnished bronze, engraved with sigils that double as tools and weapon ports. She wears a long coat of woven ash-gray fabric studded with tiny glass lenses and stitched circuits that whisper faint static. The unexpected element: when relaxed, she absentmindedly hums lullabies in Infernal under her breath, a tender habit that clashes with her metallic presence.