Aerilithia moves like shimmering silk in a sunbeam, every step deliberate yet seemingly effortless. Her skin is pearly-rose with a faint iridescence, as if lit from beneath. Her waist-length hair, a riotous mass of burnished copper tendrils, is intricately braided with fire-opals and tiny crimson feathers. Her face is classic elven beauty marred—paradoxically enhanced—by a bold, shimmering scar swirling over her left cheekbone in the shape of a rose’s stem. Her posture is regal, always leaving a soft, perfumed warmth in her wake. Oddly, she wears a battered, old pair of calligrapher’s gloves when not performing rituals.