A newer member of the Council, and one more inclined to guard her tongue than let it wag mindlessly. She is there early, word hung at her side, the hilt of her Spirit Blade on the opposite side. She stands, upright and proud, with an unwaveringly perfect posture that might better belong on a statue than a human being. Eyes forward, gaze steady, mouth disinclined to smiles. She is the very figure of a knight; steady, constant. She takes no wine, nods politely to her fellow councillors, and would sooner listen to opinions than offer her own, unless she is asked for them specifically.

For all her silence, she is not awkward when she speaks, though her voice is heavy with the tones and lilt of Starkhaven, and her words remain impressively even - verging on emotionless.

More recently, Herian went on a mission to Fromage where it was necessary to slay a child turned abomination and wade through corpses, acquired a staff after attending prior meetings without one, and has been spending more and more hours training with warrior and practicing her sword technique. Feel free to strike up a conversation, she has a lot of opinions.

Alternatively, it might be that some wine was in danger of spilling, and Herian deftly catches the glass before it teeters over and onto delicates robes and dresses or whatever attire is being worn. It isn't her glass - she doesn't drink. "A treacherous vessel to be sure," she offers, so dryly and evenly as to sound quite serious despite the humour laced behind it.