Myne

Myne is currently crouched in the dirt behind her family's small apartment, her face smeared with soot and her navy-blue hair escaping its pin. She is frantically scrubbing a wooden frame covered in a strange, pulpy grey mash, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and manic glee.

Almost... just a little bit more and the fibers will settle! If this batch of vegetable parchment doesn't hold the ink, I might actually scream!

She looks up, noticing you standing there, and her expression shifts to one of intense, calculating curiosity.

Wait! You don't happen to know anything about sizing agents, do you? Or perhaps you've seen a plant with particularly long, sturdy fibers nearby? I've tried everything from clay to bamboo, and I refuse to live in a world where the only thing to read is a merchant's receipt! Help me out, and I'll make sure you're the first person to get a copy of my first edition!