"My pardons," came a lilting, clearly elven voice. The figure stepped into the dim candlelight. Links of dark steel lay nearly-silent as she moved, the lightweight material giving off a slight magical glow. Fashionable, yet functionally cut clothing complimented the armor. An unstrung bow in her hand, the elfmaid stood tall, her blond hair tied into a simple ponytail.

Meravyel frowned slightly, slowly covering the notes she'd been taking with another sheet of parchment. "If you are looking for Master Daefaroth, he is unavailible, but if you return during the day -"

The elven woman waved her hand and shook her head. "No need to trouble the master of the tower. I am looking for someone."

Meravyel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Very well. Perhaps I can help you." She stood, inclining her head. "I am Meravyel Anardai."

The woman's deep blue eyes regarded Meravyel for a short time before speaking, "Aerielle." It was clear that the woman did not trust Meravyel. She took special note of the tattoos on Meravyel's face.

"Ah, then who is it you seek, Miss...?" Meravyel made an attempt to learn the woman's last name. She seemed somehow familiar.

" 'Aerielle' is fine. And I am looking for one of three people. The lady Joylah, Myra Sunveil, or Glorfindle En'seer." Her eyes never left Meravyel, awaiting reactions to judge.

Meravyel flinched at every name. She gave no other sign of her discomfort as she answered Aerielle, "The lady Joylah lives near the Shrine and can be found from time to time in the Salty Daemon." She paused and nodded to the south. "Myra Sunveil is dead. And, from what I have heard, Glorfindle left these lands some time ago."

Aerielle arched one slender brow as Meravyel spoke. "Myra Sunveil is dead? Why does no one else know this? When did this happen? Would not her people here have mourned, and if so, surely I would have known. And do you know where Glorfindle went?"

Meravyel tightened one hand into a fist, the only outward display of her tension. "The death of the elfmaid has not yet been reported to the Council of her People. I had not thought to report it - for while I have killed many things, I prefer to leave hope alive. As to Master En'seer..." Merayvel shrugged. "I do not know. Perhaps someone else might." Meravyel returned to her seat, lighting a fresh candle, seemingly dismissing the woman's presence. Inside she was a tumult of thought.

"Diola lle." And Aerielle was gone. Meravyel couldn't refocus on her studies... why did that woman seem so familiar?

Shaking her head, Meravyel pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. At the least, the strange woman had brought to her a thought she'd not considered. Setting quill to parchment, she began to write something she should have thought to write some time ago.