The woman retrieved a book large enough to cover her entire torso, its leather cover worn smooth with age. She flipped through the oversized pages, a faint rustle echoing in the still air of the room. Dora's eyes widened as she saw the hyperrealistic drawings – anatomical diagrams, sketches of strange creatures, and yes, there – a picture of...herself? No, not quite. Her, but simplified, the colours less vibrant, the edges too smooth.
"That is what you are," the woman said, tapping the image with a long, slender finger. "A human. The Gard's historians were positively frothing to take a closer look at you, yet I held them back. You're welcome."
She squatted and tilted her head curiously. Dora felt a flush rising in her cheeks. This woman, this elf, studied her as if she were a particularly strange insect. Her gaze, while bright with fascination, carried an undercurrent of…disdain? No, not quite. Something more detached, like a child observing an ant colony.
