<div class="floatright">  <strong>Vanessë Istya</strong> (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1829727)<br/>(https://yt3.ggpht.com/a-/AAuE7mBViEXufNE3sOcr1sfm2PL7B4vFb6ocvHP9Cg=s240-mo-c-c0xffffffff-rj-k-no)</div>Villagers in Telmud have marveled that Vanessë's regal bearing seemed utterly immune to protruding tree roots, weather, fawning gentlemen, or even small children and animals who always seem to get underfoot for everyone else.  Villagers have also marveled that when it comes to the book club, her regal immunity appears to face immediate cancellation, the way a silvered weapon bites easily into a werewolf whereas the finest of weapon craftsmanship would otherwise not.<br/><br/>This was one of those moments.  The elf maiden was distracted, observing Allia a half dozen stalls away enthusiastically tugging at Onnette's skirt, and now found herself sprawled on the ground, her book flying from her hands, and skidding a few paces away, a hasty Mella sprawled on top of her.  "Mella, Nephie," she acknowledged in greeting as she lifted her head from the ground.  She used to give stern admonitions when this happened.  Now she had grown used to it, and was resigned to this being a part of her village existence.  I appear to have mis-identified the immediate threat in the vicinity," she commented with a calm incongruous to her now disheveled condition.