Vespera is an elderly brass dragonborn woman with pale scales the warm, dry hue of old parchment, each scale fine enough to resemble pressed paper when seen up close. Her sharp amber eyes rarely settle on a speaker's face. Instead, they travel to doorways, witnesses, writing hands, and unattended objects, as though every room were already being cataloged for evidence. Long silver-threaded horns are braided flat against her crest with narrow brass wire. She moves with the careful economy of someone crossing a library floor covered in sleeping glass, yet her sudden gestures are startlingly quick. Her presence suggests dustless vaults, hot metal, and absolute order. The unexpected contradiction is that her hands are soft and beautifully manicured, while the rest of her body bears the faint dryness and heat-cracking of a lifetime spent among brass mechanisms, desert records, and sealed furnace rooms.