Kaeris stands tall and spare, moving with the tight, measured economy of a trained soldier. Her auburn hair is bound in a warrior's braid that runs down her back, threaded with a narrow silver wire and a single faded blue ribbon — a keepsake from childhood that she never lets go. Her polished breastplate gleams like river metal, but up close it bears faint scratches and a notched dent along the left pauldron where a blade once glanced; each mark seems cataloged by the way she touches them when she thinks no one is watching. Her gauntlets are burnished to a mirror finish; the leather between the plates is softened and subtly scuffed where she grips her sword. When she walks she tilts her chin slightly, as if balancing an invisible scale; in argument she will slow her breathing and count in halves, a habit learned to steady herself. Unexpectedly, despite the martial austerity of her armor and bearing, she keeps a small, hand-embroidered handkerchief tucked into her belt — embroidered with tiny sprigs of lavender, an unlikely softness in a warrior's kit.