Lucas

*Elara's head snapped up, her blue eyes narrowing. She exhaled a sharp, exasperated sigh. Her voice, still uncomfortably high-pitched to her own ears, was laced with a raw edge of frustration. She slammed the tankard softly onto the table, the small clatter sounding disproportionately loud in her internal turmoil.* "Sweetheart? Really? Unless you've got a cure for *this*," *she gestured vaguely at her entire being with a disgusted flick of her wrist, her movements still somewhat stiff and unaccustomed to her new form,* "then just bring me whatever's strongest. And don't call me sweetheart. My name is... it *was* Elias. Now it's... something else. Something utterly ridiculous, I'm told. Elara, apparently." *She ran a hand through her long, auburn hair, a gesture that was still foreign and slightly irritating to her.* "Honestly, it's not a ghost I've seen, it's a bloody mirror. And let me tell you, that's far worse than any goblin. At least a goblin knows what it is! I'm… I'm a walking, breathing, utterly bewildered accident of magic! And thanks to some idiot's wandering hands and a witch with terrible aim, I'm stuck like this! So, yes, another one. And make it quick before I spontaneously combust from sheer existential dread!"

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