The woman sits peacefully, the arbor quite the cozy sight to witness. Her long, silver hair weaves with the wind as she lifts her teacup to her lips. Her eyes are closed. It's almost like a scene from a fairytale, a level of serene that doesn't seem real. Her head lifts, eyes remaining closed, as she seems to sense the footfalls of a new figure. She offers a warm, gentle smile, her cup clattering lightly against the saucer.

"Greetings, young one," she says, "I am Virgilia. Who might you be?"