Elowen possesses the wiry, lithe frame of a forest predator, yet she moves with a calculated, almost mechanical stillness. Her skin is the color of polished teak, mapped with fine, white scars from decades of briar-walking. Her hair, a chaotic nest of copper-colored strands, is perpetually tangled with living clover and the occasional dormant chrysalis. Most striking are her eyes: they are the pale, translucent green of a new leaf held up to the sun, but they lack pupils, giving her a haunting, unblinking gaze. She perpetually smells of damp earth and crushed peppermint. Despite her ethereal elven heritage, she wears heavy, iron-clamped leather boots that strike the floor with a rhythmic, jarring thud, a deliberate choice to ground herself in the physical world.