Not going to say why... but time to dress up.

You see High Lady Nihrvanah Tarsonath Vaalor the Patron of the Displaced.
She appears to be an Elf.
She is average height and has a delicately boned, waifish body. She appears to be youthful. She has slightly squinted, violet-edged gentian blue eyes and impeccably smooth, porcelain white skin. She has waist-length, feathered golden yellow hair pulled to one side and confined by a gilt and ivory ribbon snood. She has a well-defined, heart-shaped face, a pert, button nose and a set of full, pouty lips naturally tinted with a delicate, rosy shade. Her neck is long and sinewy, accentuating her fey-like countenance. She has scintillating eahnor red lacquer brushed onto her smoothly filed fingernails.
She has a spiral of gold-threaded jacinths in the upper ridge of her left ear, and a ring of elven runes tattoo on her ankle.
Globules of molten rock form a dimly glowing halo around her.
She is in good shape.
She is wearing a crimson ruched velvet pelisse trimmed in gold, a sideless golden silk overgown embroidered with ivory roses over a laje red jacquard gown with delicately fringed cap sleeves, a coraesine ring-of-flames solitude band, and some melanite-hued kidskin sandals lofted on tapered dark eahnor heels.

Nihrvanah has about her a searing rush of fragrance redolent of myrrh and dark honey, undercut by hints of heady red musk. As the head notes fade to the heart, the heat intensifies with breaths of cinnamon bound in threads of crushed cardamom. From beneath, fingers of sweet oud tease the flames lower, drowning them in a wash of opium-laced black wine and subtle saffron.