Growing up as a high elf can leave one... emotionally stunted. Soreal grew up in the old world, not knowing when her birthday was due to the wars. She was strung along with others attempting to flee to safety, spending a year on a boat to the new world. During this time, she befriended the crewmates and helped work alongside them as she learned of her culture from other high elves on the ship. It was a blessing that her parents came out unscathed. Once in the new world, the three of them said goodbye to the others who made the voyage with them with promises to keep in touch if things go well while resettling somewhere new. Now around 6 or 7 years old, Soreal would learn vital skills such as hunting, gardening, and survival. She was in an unknown land and couldn't remember what life was like before. On cold nights, she would bundle up in front of the fireplace with her parents while they wistfully retold stories of what life was like before. They lived in a small cottage, hand built in a forest a few days walk from the shore they landed on.
As Soreal grew older, she forgot more and more of her old life. Her mother had grown sick a few years past and passed in her sleep, her faithful husband and daughter by her side. With her world growing ever smaller, she grew more and more weary around strangers. All she could remember were her parents, she didn't need to talk to anyone else. And so Soreal's simple life continued on. Once she was of age, her father taught her Elvish and they practiced regularly together until the weather grew colder and the leaves began to fall off of the trees. They would sit beside the fireplace like old times and share memories of her mother until the fire dimmed.
At around 19 years old, her father sat across their dining table from her and held a serious look on his face. He told her a few short stories about the high elves back home before, stories of magic and valor. He wanted her to go out, leave, and find out about magic for herself. He wanted her to learn more about their culture than he could teach her. The goodbyes were hard, and tears were shed on both sides. But a week after that conversation, Soreal set off alone into the world for the very first time.
Soreal bounces in place, awestruck at the surrounding buildings and stalls.
“Hello there, I would assume adventure, although I am not quite sure yet where to begin.”
She tugs gently on a lock of her hair that had fallen over her shoulders and looks past the wealthy looking man.
“Is there a shop nearby where I could inquire about buying a staff? Or someone dealing with magic?”
He lets out a hearty laugh and beckons behind him.
“Well miss, we have a little something of everything here! Follow me, and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Soreal hesitates, unsure if she should go straight into the heart of the portside bazaar. After a moment's thought and consideration she squares her shoulders and marches on after the man.