Two women sit upon a rocky out cropping, on the shore of an unnamed beach.
"I missed you," says the elder.
"You mean you missed knowing every intimate detail of my life?" remarks the other teasingly.
"That too."
"I think I'm ready to tell you about it now."
"All in one day?" the woman called Ani'ca replies skeptically.
"I don't need the sleep do you?" counters Lheora, the elf woman.
"Of course not, especially when there is history to be written and I am so far behind!"
"I suppose you'll want me to start right at the beginning?"
"There's no need for that long suffering attitude," protests Ani'ca, "although the answer is yes, I would like to hear your version of events so they can be incorporated with what has already been recorded and written in narrative."
"As you like, my dear lady historian, but do try and keep your tail still, that whole twitchy scales thing is distracting."
"I am not twitching my tail," she protests, while doing just that.
Lheora mutters something about Ani'ca's fish-rear, causing the Dhija maid to slide sulkily into the ocean.
"Happy now?" she asks sarcastically, splashing Lheora with her tail.
"Ok fish-lady, I give, I'll talk," Lheora replies almost cheerfully. "Having read my journal you know, of course, that I was somewhat less than ordinary as a child. I would say that this part of my story begins the year I turned one hundred and thirty..."