Seshina is a fine-boned human girl with the polished posture of someone raised among portraits and the restless hands of someone who has recently discovered stone. Her skin is sun-warmed and faintly salt-dried from weeks aboard ship, with powdered marble permanently worked into the creases around her knuckles. Her dark hair is cut in an expensive, uneven bob that was clearly done by a bored ship's barber, then arranged each morning with absurd care. She moves quickly but never carelessly, stepping around people as if they are sculptures she does not want to knock over. Her expression alternates between theatrical disdain and startling concentration. The contradictory impression is immediate: she looks like a pampered baron's daughter, but her fingernails are cracked, her palms are callused, and she smells faintly of wet stone.