You see Meriel, an Elven woman whose profession isn't apparent. She has a curiously ageless look and her death pale skin and mist shrouded body seems translucent, as if your hand would pass through her if you tried to touch her. Streamers of seaweed are braided into Meriel's long red hair and her eyes match the sea's green shade.

She is holding some golden panther perfume in her right hand and a snifter of Rissan brandy in her left hand.

She is wearing a sack streaked with ale and wine stains, an antique pearl comb, a delicate silver necklace shaped like a leaping dolphin with sparkling diamond eyes, a mantle woven of speckled deep green seaweed and a flowing seafoam green gown of sheer silk cinched with a girdle made of seashells ending in crab-claw tassles.