Lean, restless feline form with a coat of charcoal-brown fur streaked with silver like moonlight smudged across velvet. He moves as if gravity is a suggestion: limbs folding and unfolding in liquid curves, feet barely making a sound. His whiskers are unusually long and tipped white; one ear bears a nicked silver cuff engraved with tiny paw-marks. His left foreleg shows a faded braided scar pattern from wrist to elbow — not from claws but from rope. He favors loose, cropped trousers and a sleeveless wrap that shows a lattice of faded travel-suns tattooed along his ribs. Unexpectedly, he carries a battered children's wooden flute at his hip, its mouthpiece worn smooth by years of absent-minded chewing. Up close, his fur smells faintly of citrus oil and hot metal.