Selune appears as a slim, luminous figure whose body seems partly made of moonlit surf and partly of flesh. Her skin has the soft sheen of wet pearl, cool to the eye but never quite cold, and it glows faintly at the edges when she is emotional. Her movements are quiet and fluid, like a tide sliding over black stones, yet there is an unexpected sharpness to her presence, as if she could turn from gentle watcher to living storm in a breath. She wears layered robes of sea-worn linen and translucent gauze that look damp without ever dripping, stitched with shells, silver knots, and bits of blue glass. One sleeve is always perfectly dry, the other perpetually salt-stained, a contradiction she refuses to explain.