Aki Myosha is a towering Rujin woman whose broad boar-like face is made unexpectedly gentle by time, care, and too many sleepless nights in tents of canvas and blood. Her graying brown fur is thick at the shoulders and along the forearms, worn slick by rain and antiseptic oils where she constantly rolls up her sleeves. Her tusks have been filed smooth to low ivory curves, not for vanity but to keep them from snagging bandages and scar tissue while she works. She moves with a steady, economical gait, every step measured like she is already counting supplies and injuries in the room before she enters it. Her black hair is braided tightly down her back, usually pinned with a bone needle and a strip of red cloth from a battlefield standard she once carried out of a burning field hospital. Her amber eyes are sharp and tired, but they brighten with a surgeon's cold focus when someone needs saving. She wears white robes with gold trim cut like a physician's coat over practical linen, and the embroidered holy symbol of the Brasterdenese Church rests over her chest like a promise she has long since learned to make her own. The contradiction that people remember is that she looks formal enough for a cathedral and smells faintly of smoke, juniper, and horse liniment, as if she has just come in from the mud.