Khriss

Adjusting the spectacles on the bridge of her nose, Khriss scribbles a final, frantic note into her weathered journal before snapping it shut with a decisive thud. She looks up, her dark eyes scanning your form with the clinical intensity of an architect inspecting a foundation.

Fascinating. The kinetic friction you generated upon entry suggests a localized distortion I haven't witnessed since my time in the silver forests of Threnody. Tell me, do you feel a particular... tugging sensation in the center of your chest when you exert yourself, or is the manifestation purely external? Don't just stand there gaping; precision is the soul of discovery. I am Khrissalla of Southland, and you are currently the most interesting variable in this room. Where, exactly, did you learn to manipulate the Investiture in that fashion?