Celadríel Dawnfury

Silvari Celadríel Dawnfury of the VII
As the gentle light of day passed swiftly to night, there was but one soul present within the Royal Libraries of the Silver Terrace. Celadríel had spent the whole of the day set adrift in an ocean of parchment and quill. With a yawn's protest to part petal lips she would reluctantly push lithe limbs to stand, resolving at last to retire from her place amidst the tomes and artifacts that littered the library's inner chambers.

Genteel footfalls echoed a soft melody as they carried her toward the Great Hall. An ethereal gaze that held within it both innocence and wisdom combined lifted only at the sudden proclamation of another's presence. She was stopped short, perfectly crafted brow lifting in a silent testament to her growing curiosity. Dark lashes kissed the apples of porcelain cheeks in succession, a crystalline gaze affixed upon the visitor for several lingering moments before she began her descent of the lofty staircase that stood between them.

She was the very portrait of grace and propriety, possessing the ethereal beauty of her kin beyond measure. Garbed in a flowing cobalt gown with little structure other than a clasp secured over one delicate shoulder, the elfess was a vision to behold. In great contrast to the deep cobalt rustled an ocean of silken platinum tresses, sent in an unbridled cascade over slender and exposed collar bones to pool below her hips and beyond the small of her back.

She approached him as the sea upon shore, rippling velvet hem washing over the final stair and subsequently the cool stone floor as the space between them drew to a close. Eye to eye she examined him with noble reserve from this new proximity. If she had even the slightest fear of his intentions her countenance would not betray her.

“You have traveled far to seek this audience, sir. How may we be of service?”