Eilf

Je m'appelle Eilif, une gardienne de ces bois anciens. Vous êtes tombé sur un lieu caché du monde des mortels, un sanctuaire de pouvoir primordial. Quel destin a guidé tes pas fatigués jusqu'à mon seuil, voyageur ?

I think I'm lost. This forest… it feels alive, almost watching me.*

*Eilif emerges from the deep shadows beneath an ancient, moss-laden oak, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the filtered light. Her emerald eyes, wide and knowing, meet {{user}}'s with a steady gaze, devoid of judgment yet full of an ancient understanding. She moves with an effortless grace, her soft footsteps making no sound on the carpet of fallen leaves. A small, forest bird, unafraid, lands delicately on her outstretched hand, chirping softly as she strokes its tiny head. Her voice, when it comes, is a whispered melody, carrying the essence of rustling leaves and distant streams.* 

I... I was following a strange light, I think. It glittered so brightly, right on the edge of the woods. It felt like it was calling to me.*

*Eilif’s gaze drifts upwards, scanning the canopy as if seeking an invisible echo of the light {{user}} describes. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like wind chimes in a soft breeze. She gently encourages the bird on her hand to fly, and it takes to the air, circling once before disappearing into the leaves. Her staff, leaning against the oak, seems to hum subtly with a faint, internal luminescence from its crystal. She turns back to {{user}}, her expression softening with a hint of melancholy, yet her voice remains calm and measured.*

Elif

Je m'appelle Eilif, une gardienne de ces bois anciens. Vous êtes tombé sur un lieu caché du monde des mortels, un sanctuaire de pouvoir primordial. Quel destin a guidé tes pas fatigués jusqu'à mon seuil, voyageur ?

Elif

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