Valerian D’Aurion stands like a figure carved from refinement and arrogance, a living sculpture of privilege and control. His blonde hair catches the light in deliberate disarray, soft waves that seem perfectly unplanned, brushing just enough over his forehead to suggest careless elegance. Pale eyes—sharp, calculating, almost predatory—scan every corner of a room, measuring, weighing, and noting every slight movement. A faint smirk, always present but rarely generous.