Preceptor Malakor ibn-Vara is a tall, high-energy genasi whose crackling electrical-blue skin seems to hold stormlight beneath its surface. Fine sparks crawl across his knuckles whenever he is thinking, and the air around him carries the faint metallic scent of rain striking hot stone. His dark hair is swept sharply backward, with silver at the temples like exposed wiring. His piercing eyes shine pale cyan and rarely blink during a dangerous calculation. He moves with the economical precision of a climber, planting each step as if the ground might vanish. Despite his intimidating intensity, his hands are unusually delicate, with long fingers better suited to threading copper wire through a seal than gripping a weapon. He leaves people with the impression of having been personally selected for survival, even when he has just ordered them into mortal danger. The contradictory element is his smile, which is warm, paternal, and entirely sincere when he discusses catastrophic failure.