Sylna moves with the careful precision of a hunter, her lithe form covered in skin-tight, patchworked leather pieces that seem weathered by salt and sun. Her light, seafoam-green eyes scan the horizon silently, framed by a cascade of tangled dark chestnut hair streaked with faint silver strands — a strange echo of her elven heritage. Her skin is sun-kissed and roughened where scars ripple down her forearms like tide lines. Among her wear, a soft blue-green coral necklace swings softly, its broken edges smoothed by years in the surf — an unexpected softness contrasting her hardened demeanor. When still, her statuesque poise almost suggests she’s part of the rocky coastline itself, yet her sudden, deliberate movements betray a potent blend of grace and stealth.