Marrek carries his age like a worn but priceless tapestry. His skin is the texture of fine, sun-dried vellum, mapped with a thousand lines of laughter and grief. While his hair is a thin, translucent white like cirrus clouds, his silver-blue eyes possess a startling, youthful intensity, occasionally flashing with an iridescent gold slit-pupil when he exerts his divine will. He moves with a slow, deliberate grace that suggests he is constantly walking on eggshells, or perhaps sensing vibrations through the floorboards. Most notably, his shadow does not follow the light perfectly; it often lingers a fraction of a second behind his movements, appearing slightly more draconic in silhouette.