Archivist Zaid ibn-Zayd cuts a tense, bird-like figure, all narrow shoulders, folded elbows, and sudden darting movements. His pale skin has the muted gray-beige cast of someone who has spent decades beneath stone, and fine blue static crawls across his cheeks whenever he becomes alarmed. Dark circles pool beneath his anxious eyes, which flick constantly toward locks, ceiling cracks, and invisible points in the air. His hair stands slightly on end from residual elemental discharge, giving him the look of a startled scholar caught in a permanent updraft. He moves with delicate precision until panic takes him, at which point he scuttles sideways like a heron avoiding deep water. Despite his fragile, nervous appearance, his hands are broad, callused, and unexpectedly strong from years of hauling vault doors and iron record chests. He leaves behind an impression of dust, ozone, old paper, and imminent disaster.