Master Elidra Voss is striking in the way a polished blade is striking, elegant but never entirely safe to touch. She moves with a measured, almost floating gait, as if the floor beneath her is a suggestion she is politely declining to accept. Her skin has the warm tone of old ivory and faint gold freckles across her cheeks and knuckles that glimmer when she casts. Her hair is white at the roots and deep ink-black at the ends, usually braided into a long crown threaded with copper clasps and little glass charms that chime softly when she turns her head. One eye is moss green and the other is amber gold, the gold one slightly clouded from an old magical accident. She is tall and narrow with long fingers stained by ink, soot, and rare alchemical dyes. Her clothing is a contradiction of comfort and authority: a velvet shopkeeper's coat lined with star-map silk, a practical leather apron full of hidden pockets, and immaculate heeled boots with scuffed soles from years of hurrying after lost customers or fleeing worse. The scent around her is a blend of cedar, cold rain, parchment, and a faint note of ozone, and she leaves the impression of someone both expensive and deeply tired.