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An unfathomable number of tiny stars make up Oswinth's hide, coalescing in glittering clouds of icy particles, growing sparse in vacuous midnight, all connected by a fine web of electric filaments. It means that, from a distance, his color is richly mottled. His forehead seems pale, enhancing the wide, youthful face he should have grown out of long ago. Arctic hues light the apex of each sharp neckridge, encase his fragile spars and collect along his soft belly. The dark of empty space wars with natural shadows, obscuring what little definition there may be in his tender muscle. He is small and slim, spindly in build with bones prominent. Even his wings show exaggerated angles and between his frosty spars, the web of electric blue grows more dominant, forming its own visible pattern like a glowing map.