A few minutes later, Vesta and Zukar descend the stairs side by side, deep in conversation in the Ramtovi tongue. Her expression falters when she notices Storm and the elf. Her lips press into a thin line, and she leans slightly towards Zukar, muttering something to him.

Then, she steps forward and crosses the room, hesitantly approaching the table.

“Good morning...?” She says, her tone polite, but edged with uncertainty.

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