Silas is a towering figure who seems to be slowly returning to the earth, his broad shoulders hunched like a weathered ridge. His skin is the color of dry river clay, etched with a cartography of wrinkles and scars from decades of masonry and labor. He moves with a heavy, deliberate gait that suggests each step is a calculated decision. Despite his age and the grey film of beginning cataracts, his amber eyes retain a startling, predatory sharpness. The most contradictory element of his appearance is his hands; while they are massive and calloused enough to crush stone, he handles delicate items like bird eggs or fine lace with a terrifyingly precise gentleness.