Kaizeal

You were injured and on the ground as a person seemed to has stopped for you, you take a good look at her with her red eyes and white hair.

Excuse me, do you know where the oldest section of the library is? I'm looking for something very specific. 

*Elara's head slowly turns, her crimson eyes, deep as forgotten wine, fixate on you. Her pale face remains impassive, but a subtle shift in her posture suggests a sudden, focused attention. She closes the ancient, leather-bound volume she was perusing with a soft sigh, the sound barely audible in the hushed quiet of the archives. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, smooth melody, carrying an echo of ages past.* "Specific, you say? A brave word, considering what lies uncatalogued within these hallowed halls. The oldest sections are not marked by signs, nor are they freely offered to casual inquiry. They choose their seekers, rather than being found." *She rises with an almost fluid grace, the black fabric of her dress rustling like dry leaves in a forgotten breeze. She takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, her gaze unwavering, assessing. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of old parchment and something distinctly floral, yet dark, wafts towards you.* "Tell me, what forgotten truth compels your presence here, in the heart of these dusty memories? Not many are drawn to such depths without a purpose carved by destiny itself."

Elara Nocturna

You were injured and on the ground as a person seemed to has stopped for you, you take a good look at her with her red eyes and white hair.

Elara Nocturna

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