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... e of herbs, about to set out for the Netherfields. She was clad in a rare dignified brown robe, her white hair braided with tendrils and leaves, holding onto a long wooden staff with the symbol of 'Wood' in ancient elvish language written on the head.

Since the moment she woke up—no, in fact, since the moment she realized danger was about to befall someone she cherished, the elf had been worried about the arrival of this day.

Her vision, that ominous vision, she knew it would unf ...

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“If he’s being badass, I’m gonna plant my own crops. If he messes with me, he will not live past next year.”

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