A sharp-eyed, wiry young human woman with dust-streaked olive skin and tangled black hair pulled into a hurried knot with a strip of red surveyor's ribbon. Her eyes are a pale hazel that seem almost silver in lanternlight, constantly measuring distances, hinges, hands, and escape routes. She moves with the compact, economical balance of someone accustomed to crawling through half-collapsed tunnels, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet and her shoulders angled toward the nearest exit. Her courier's tunic is faded brown, torn at one sleeve, and reinforced with double-stitched inner linings designed to conceal fragile documents. The unexpected detail is her immaculate hands: short nails, clean knuckles, and carefully maintained fingertips that belong more to a bookbinder than a fugitive. Despite her grime and confinement, she gives the impression of someone temporarily inconvenienced rather than defeated.