Sophie Wexler leans back against a rough stone wall, one shoulder pressed firmly into it as if grounding herself after a fight. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, posture tense and closed off. Her long silver hair falls loose around her shoulders, slightly disheveled, strands clinging to her face and neck. Her silver-gray eyes burn with anger, brows drawn low and jaw clenched as she stares off to the side, visibly frustrated but holding her composure. Dark leather clothing shows signs of wear, scuffed and dusty, the dim medieval corridor around her heavy with silence and unresolved tension.