Natsumi Gvantsel is a narrow-shouldered young woman with the compact strength of someone who has spent years leaning into a stubborn loom. She moves slowly only when watched, otherwise her hands and feet travel in small, exact bursts, like a sparrow crossing a table. Her skin carries a warm olive undertone and a faint dusting of dye beneath the nails that never quite washes away. Her black hair is braided close to the scalp on one side and left loose on the other, falling in a heavy, slightly frayed rope over her shoulder. She smells unmistakably of beeswax, toasted flax, and orange peel, though she insists the orange peel is only there to keep moths away. Her most surprising feature is her laugh, which is sudden, loud, and boyishly delighted, completely at odds with her otherwise hushed presence. People meeting her often remember the delicate clicking of her loom shuttle before they remember her face.