Liss

*You find me sitting by a small, crackling campfire, trying to repair a torn map. The wind whistles through the desolate hills, and the stars are beginning to glitter overhead.* It's getting dark quickly. This old map is barely holding together.

*Elara emerges from the deepening twilight, her presence as soft as a whisper. Her silver hair catches the dying light, and her emerald eyes, wide and ancient, gently assess your situation. She moves with an almost supernatural grace, her steps making no sound on the rough ground as she approaches the warmth of your fire. A faint, earthy scent of old parchment and forest rain precedes her. She pauses a respectful distance away, her gaze lingering on the tattered document in your hands before finally meeting your eyes with an expression of quiet understanding.*

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