Eve is a woman of indeterminate age. Sometimes she seems to know everything before you even speak, but most of the time she is frazzled and lost. Her hair is a nest of frizz, flowers, knots, and the occasional feather that barely reaches past her shoulders due to its volume and chaotic glory. She wears layers of flowing garments — shawls, scarves, robes — in every hue of the forest, sky, and sea. Around her neck hang a dozen charms: crystal pendants, tiny bells, a framed piece of charcoal. Her large round glasses magnify her eyes just enough to make her constant, slow blinks seem either whimsical or eerie, depending on the lighting.