Aeshra appears as a tall, slow-moving figure of living stone and woven light. Their torso and face are sculpted from a dim, gray marble veined with faint, pulsing gold runes; strings of luminescent filament coil through carved seams like braided hair. When they walk, tiny motes of dust and faint glyphic motes fall from their joints and rearrange into faint sigils on the ground, fading in minutes. Their movement is deliberate and almost musical—each step marks a cadence that makes the air around their feet hum. Unexpectedly, their left shoulder is wrapped in a frayed silk shawl dyed with nursery stains and childlike doodles, a small, human touch that seems incongruous against the chiseled austerity of their stone form. Up close, microfractures in the marble reveal old scorch-marks and delicate inlaid scripts in a language no longer taught.