Aetris carries the polished poise of a city diplomat with an intentional touch of theatricality. He moves with a dancer's economy, feet barely making a sound, hands articulating like a painter's brush when he speaks. His face is soft-featured and sun-bronzed from coastal summers, but his eyes hold a wary clarity. He wears elven-style robes that shimmer with subtle embroidery of city emblems in mismatched thread. The tailoring is precise but the colors are slightly off from true elven taste, producing a dissonant effect that makes elves stiffen in polite discomfort. Unexpectedly, he keeps a chipped traveling mug dangling from a belt loop, the mug covered in merchant stamps and a faded child's drawing tucked in the handle. That small, humble object undermines the otherwise meticulous presentation and hints at a grounded personal life.