A gray-skinned male fantasy character with white hair and mismatched eyes holds a lute and a flaming orb in a dark hall.

He stands just under six feet tall, lithe and graceful, with the coiled energy of someone who could either bow at the waist or throw a dagger without breaking eye contact. His movements are deliberate, almost theatrical, as if every step is part of a dance only he hears. His skin is smooth and pale ash-gray, a muted echo of his mother’s deeper Drow complexion, with just enough silver-blue undertone to catch the light under torchglow. His hair is a tousled cascade of white-gold, worn shoulder-length and often tied back with a crimson silk ribbon, the ends trailing like stage curtains. Cassimir’s eyes are mismatched — one a piercing violet (a gift from his Drow lineage), the other a warm amber. They flick between charm and calculation in an instant, and he wields his gaze like a blade. When he smiles, it’s equal parts roguish and dangerous — the smile of a man who could seduce a countess, pick her pocket, and talk his way out of the gallows with a limerick. He dresses in flamboyant layers of deep reds, blacks, and royal purples — velvet coats with silver-threaded cuffs, high boots polished to a mirror sheen, and a half-cape that sways just a bit too dramatically when he spins. Around his waist is a studded bard’s belt, with a spellbook case disguised as a lyric scroll, and several ornate instrument cases strapped over one shoulder — including his signature black-lacquered lute, “Whispersong,” carved with Drow runes and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. His fingers are long and See more