Angles and shadows define Silver's features, the sharpness of them softened only by the lightest dusting of a beard, a turn or two's growth. Shorter in back, his dark and wild hair curries forward to shield his face, causing the light to dapple and dance across his skin. From behind his curtain of hair pale green eyes pierce out, their lightness a stark contrast to his otherwise dark. There is a calculated playfulness within those eyes that mask the keen awareness with which he usually watches the world.
His is a body built for stealth and quickness, wiry muscles over a lean frame. His movements are as calculated as his watchful eyes, they coil within him waiting - yet when they strike it is with the quick sureness of a seasoned rogue. Only his hands seem in constant motion, forever flipping and spinning a small sharp dagger, the hilt emblazoned with a swirling 'S' and 'R' of silver and blue. He owns whatever sliver of space he occupies, flowing with ease, a self-confidence that borders on arrogance in his stride and mannerisms.
He speaks his words without haste in a low tone, it is not hesitancy that slows his words, though, for still there is a force and surety that weighs them. Rather he savors his words, tasting each one before releasing them out into the world. His laugh comes easier - and softer - it wells up quiet from his chest and seems at odds with the rest of the man.
He is a man of few garnishments, his neck holding only an ageless tarnished medallion.
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