Weathered from long years at sea with a stance like a prow cutting waves, she moves in precise, economical motions. Her bright copper hair falls in a single thick braid originally kept to the side with pieces of scavenged scrimshaw and a silver coin engraved with her father's crest. Her skin bears tight, pale scars that seem to shimmer faintly when she channels blood magic. She wears a patchwork captain's coat layered over hardened leather and a bloodstained sash that smells faintly of brine and iron. Unexpectedly, one of her gauntleted hands is wrapped in lace beneath the leather, an heirloom that looks delicate and out of place among salt and steel.