Vaelith moves with an unnerving grace, a pendulum-like sway in their hips that suggests both dancer and predator. Their ash-gray skin seems almost dusted with faint silver runes that shimmer faintly in candlelight, like constellations drawn on stone. Wide, curling horns stained a deep obsidian sweep back from the temples, each etched with intricate, glowing crimson veins pulsing to an unknown rhythm. Their eyes, pale amethyst tipped with gold flecks, pierce through veils of smoke and shadow. They wear a flowing, patchworked robe of deep emerald velvet, embroidered with alchemical symbols in thread spun from metallic spider silk; underneath, their hands are covered with fingerless gloves crafted from blackened wyvern leather. Unexpectedly, a small mechanical owl, looking oddly out of place amidst the organic fabrics and arcane embellishments, perches perpetually on their shoulder, rusted with age but bright-eyed and sentient in appearance.