New to Canguine, it is difficult to put your finger exactly on what is considered normal for Lieve.  He manages himself like a man trying tentatively to put his pulse on the city, neither disclosing too much about himself nor pushing to insert himself into the city's pulse.

Twenty years old, Lieve carries himself well.  The observant might note that while he lacks the polish of nobility, he isn't far off.  Mannerisms, accent and diction betray that while he doesn't come from a family of Vendel merchant princes his youth might have been spent with those that had.

For the less observant?  A tall and narrow body is topped with short, dirty blonde hair that seems impervious to the wind.  It isn't difficult to tell from looking at the man that he isn't a Canguine native.  Beyond his simple dress - brown pants, shirt and a light jacket - the most noticeable thing is that he foregoes sword or knife, instead relying on a brace of pistols worn on his hips.  That his jacket weighs heavy hides another pair hidden underneath.

Blue eyes reminiscent of a pale aquamarine meet the stare of anyone who catches his eye.  That can sometimes be difficult, though, as his head is often down, attention buried on adding entries - notes, sketches, prose and poems - into a compact journal.

Oh, and there is that pin on his lapel.  A quick glance might identify him as a Swordsman's Guild member.  Closer inspection tells a different story.