Lia moves with a fluid grace, weaving through crowds as if the desert winds themselves were guiding her steps. Her skin is bronzed by years under harsh sun, but smooth like polished leather. She wears multiple scarves of fine silk that swirl about her neck and shoulders, their edges often whipped by a desert breeze, obscuring parts of her sharp, angular face. Her eyes are sharp, intelligent, and a piercing shade of amber, always scanning. Unexpectedly, near her right temple, a delicate lattice of pale scars—like a cracked porcelain pattern—adds an oddly fragile contrast to her otherwise confident presence.