Caine moves with a restless grace, his wild, unkempt black hair tumbling past slender, pointed ears that twitch occasionally as if hearing distant whispers. His gaze is sharp and restless, eyes a stormy grey with thin silver flecks that catch light when he’s detecting magic. His skin is smooth but marked with faded, swirling tattoos of the Open Fist’s symbol winding from his left forearm to his shoulder, inked in a deep indigo that almost seems to shimmer. His staff, worn and splintered in places, bears a flanged hinge mechanism near the top—an arcane contraption murmuring faint violet energy, resonating when magical auras hover nearby. Despite the controlled strength and purpose in his movements, there's an odd contrast when he pauses, cracking knuckles nervously or fidgeting with the hinge’s small gears, betraying a more anxious, distracted side. His walk carries an uneven rhythm like a dance with an unheard beat, deliberate yet twitchy, which unsettles foes and allies alike.