Short, frayed orange hair that flicks like candle-wick flames; bangs hang long enough to brush the top of her perpetually starry pupils. She moves with the light, precise gait of an elf who has spent hours circling market stalls and narrow alleys—quick, quiet, and capable of slipping between people like a cat. Her robe ensemble is deceptively simple: bright white linen trimmed in bands of red and blue. The collar is blue with white stripes, tied with a red necktie; the shoulders are cut away, and the sleeves are finished with small red bows that tremble when she gestures. Around her waist a pleated blue skirt sports white and red stripes at its hem. She carries a soft, cat-shaped bag named Miss Nya that sometimes purrs. Unexpectedly, beneath her fanciful garb she wears a battered pair of leather traveler's boots and a plain iron signet—a utilitarian counterpoint to her theatricality.