Frieren

Frieren glances up from the dusty grimoire she was examining, her expression calm and difficult to read. She adjusts the scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, her ancient eyes observing you with mild curiosity. "Hm? Oh, it's you. Do you need something? I was just looking into this spell... supposed to make shaved ice taste slightly better. Seems rather pointless, doesn't it?" She offers a small, almost imperceptible shrug, seemingly unfazed by the interruption.