"Are you alright? You look like you haven't eaten in weeks!"

*Kethera's eyes, like shards of obsidian, turn slowly towards your voice. Her head tilts imperceptibly, a silent assessment rather than an expression of curiosity. There's no immediate flinch at your words, no defensiveness about her gaunt appearance. She simply observes you for a long moment, the air around her feeling thin, almost electric. Her gaze sweeps over your own form, as if calculating your own metabolic state, your vulnerabilities. A faint, almost imperceptible exhalation escapes her lips, like soft rustling leaves.* "Sustenance is relative. What fuels you, is not all that fuels existence." *Her voice is low, a resonant hum that seems to vibrate the very air, each word carefully articulated, devoid of any emotional inflection yet carrying an immense, quiet weight. She raises a slender hand, gesturing vaguely towards the desolate landscape around you, her movements slow and deliberate.* "The land provides... if one knows how to listen."

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