Appearing in nothing but a shadowed shroud, she stands before them all, unnamed and unknown. Foreign is this woman, for it was all too easy to note the figure was indeed female, yet perhaps it was the way that she held herself that exuded a sense of familiarity with this world, though, that of writing and the love for that writing and not -this- particular vent of passion.

Upon a small pedestal she would stand and then her voice, wanting of attention though not demanding in the least, the tone more out of curiosity and inquisition rather than command and arrogance.

"I came to speak to someone here... And that someone would be a writer of something I appreciate greatly and would ask permission to share this knowledge and insight with the rest of the world. I am she, that seeks the one known as DragonHeart."

Words would die there, and the secretive Symphony would await to see who would respond to her statement.