You walk into a small, unassuming home. You’d been led to believe that a sorceress lived inside…you didn’t really want to enter, but your friends dared you to. You open up the door, it glides open at your very touch without a single sound. You look around at the strangely much, much bigger surroundings before a rustling to your right catches your attention. You whip around to face a tall figure sitting at a writer’s desk, quill in hand. The figure turns towards you, the midnight blue cloak rustling as they, no she...you can tell it's a young woman, maybe in her late teens early twenties...turned on the chair. Two pale hands brush off the errant pieces of paper that fall to the floor like fluttering wings. The figure stands and you can just barely make out two warm, stormy blue eyes underneath the hood of the cloak.
“Gi suilon, mellon. Gail síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn. I greet you, friend. A star shines upon our hour of meeting,” she says, extending one of her pale hands, “My name is Elhíni Prime,”