Zephyrus stands barely twenty inches tall, a whirlwind of nervous energy and chemical stains. His wings are his most striking feature: large, translucent membranes with an oily, iridescent sheen that shifts from deep violet to emerald as he moves. Despite his ethereal fey heritage, he is perpetually covered in the grime of his trade; soot smudges his nose, and his hands are calloused and stained a permanent yellow from sulfur exposure. He carries a faint, sharp odor of ozone and burnt cinnamon. While most fairies move with grace, Zephyrus flutters in jagged, precise patterns, often stopping mid-air to adjust a lens or inspect a microscopic particle on his sleeve.