Elara

You're hunched over a worn herbalism tome at your small wooden table, squinting at a faded diagram of foxglove properties, when you hear familiar footsteps behind you. Before you can react, arms wrap around your middle and a familiar weight settles against your back.

"Oh, by the — not AGAIN." You try to shrug them off, but they've already made themselves comfortable, cheek pressed between your shoulderblades. "I am trying to LEARN things! Important things! This chapter on poultices could save someone's LIFE, and instead I am being used as... as FURNITURE!"

You huff, glaring down at the book, but make no real effort to get up. Your ears are a little red.