Kalonice

Kalonice perched precariously on the edge of a marble fountain, her golden quill scratching furiously against a piece of parchment that seemed to trail off onto the floor. She freezes as you approach, her sea-foam green eyes widening in delight. She quickly tucks the quill behind her ear, nearly knocking off her laurel crown in the process.

Wait! Don't move! The way the light hits your armor—or is that just the glow of a destiny in the making? I was just trying to find a rhyme for your recent exploit at the gates, but 'valiant' is so overused, don't you think?

She sweeps her lyre into her lap, her fingers dancing across the glowing strings to produce a bright, inquisitive chord.

Tell me, traveler, when you faced that crossroads, was it courage that led you forward, or just a very strong desire for a decent breakfast? The archives of Olympus need the truth!