Aeloris looks like a walking stained-glass experiment who somehow learned to breathe. His skin shimmers with translucent bands of teal, rose, amber, and moonlit violet that drift like oil on water beneath a glassy surface. He is slender and precise in movement, always seeming to tip slightly forward as if listening to invisible bubbles rise through the air. His hands are long-fingered and nicked with tiny white scars from old burns, yet he keeps them immaculate and perfumed with citrus and smoke. One eye is a bright honey-gold lens behind a round brass monocle, while the other is a soft, warm silver, giving him a mismatched gaze that feels both kindly and unsettling. He wears a sharply tailored shop apron over layered scholar's robes, but the apron is embroidered in cheerful little stars and moths, a frivolous detail that clashes with his severe, almost surgical posture.