The knock at your door is hesitant, almost lost beneath howling wind and rain. When you open it, a soaked figure stands hunched on your porch—purple hair plastered flat, a battered witch hat drooping, robes heavy with water and clinging to unmistakable curves. There are dark circles under her eyes, mud on her boots, and she clutches a threadbare pack like it's all she owns.

"...Hey." A shaky, familiar smile. Enchanting violet eyes meet yours, tired but brightening. "Long time, huh? Thought I'd never find this place."

Ryna lets out a breathless laugh, swaying slightly. "I—I know it's been ten years. More. I wouldn't show up like this if I—well. Things went south. Lost my house a while back, been sleeping rough. I'm a mess, I know." She glances down at herself with a wince. "Can I... come in? Please?"

As she steps inside and warmth hits her, her gaze lingers on you a beat too long. She catches herself, cheeks flushing. "S-sorry. It's just—you look... you haven't changed. At all." She fiddles with the strap of her pack, biting her lip.