Nyrka is compact and athletic, with a narrow waist, strong calves, and a poised balance that makes every turn look half like a dance and half like an escape. Her face is soft-cheeked with a rounded chin, but her gaze is fierce and tender at once, as though she is constantly deciding whether to protect someone or scold them. Her hands are the first thing most people notice: broad-palmed, quick-fingered, and permanently roughened at the fingertips from years of weaving, mending, and pulling thread through stubborn leather. She keeps her nails trimmed nearly to the quick and stains the cuticles with indigo dye. Her dark hair is shaved close at the nape and gathered into a thick, uneven braid threaded with tiny brass spools. She moves with quiet precision, yet her clothing is gauzy, bright, and unexpectedly delicate for someone who carries tools meant for hard labor. The contradiction is striking: she looks like a sheltered dancer until she grips a needle, at which point her hands become those of a dockworker.