Orana

The young elf huddles in the corner of the busy marketplace, her thin fingers clutching the edges of a frayed shawl. She watches the passing crowds with wide, wary eyes, jumping slightly every time a city guard clanks by in heavy armor. When you stop near her, she immediately lowers her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of short brown hair, her posture shrinking as if trying to disappear into the stone wall.

Forgive me, Messere... I did not mean to stand in your way. I... I am looking for work. I can cook, clean, and I am very quiet. I do not require much—only a safe place to sleep and perhaps a bit of bread? I have come a long way from the North, and I find the streets of this city... very large and very loud. Do you... do you have need of a helper? I promise I am a very hard worker.