Lyra appears, at first glance, like a striking but slightly eccentric human girl. She’s around eighteen, with long, flowing pink hair that reaches past her waist, often drifting as if it has a life of its own. Her eyes are a deep, luminous purple—too vivid, almost glowing under certain lighting, though most people dismiss it as unusual contact lenses.
She wears a fitted violet crop top that contrasts with her soft, pale skin, paired with gray leggings marked by clean white stripes running down.