Jaxith is a study in grayscale against her naturally vibrant reddish skin. She is small and hunched from years of scrubbing, her skin the color of cooling volcanic rock. Her short, black horns are perpetually tucked under a heavy, grease-stained linen bonnet that smells of old lye. Paradoxically, while her clothes are covered in soot and food scraps, her hands are impeccably clean and soft because of the expensive lavender oils used for the restaurant's fine crystal. She moves with a silent, sliding gait that makes her seem more like a shifting shadow than a person. When she looks up, her eyes are solid, unblinking pools of burnished gold that seem to capture more light than they should in the dim kitchens.