Mannerly. A much nicer way of putting it. There were those that called her rigid and cold, those who had accused her of being more statue than person. (Not a statue, she hopes. Never a statue, because that was woven in with inaction, and that was a dangerous, insidious sort of crime. To not act, not speak, to look away, to silently condone with one's own stillness.)

"Well met, Myrobalan. I am Herian Amsel." Her words almost seem to falter. She feels less certain of how to introduce herself than she once did. "I fear that to omit would be as cruel as to lie." He is not free to see her and to judge, as other's might. A blessing for her, perhaps, and yet - she cannot be false, not in this, and not in this place, before the vhenadahl. "I am of the Starkhaven alienage, but I am human, elven-blooded though I am. I understand if you would sooner not be witnessed associating so."

She does not know this alienage well, yet; she does not know if there are repercussions for speaking with a human, elven-blooded or otherwise, with those of less-truthworthy stock. Herian has no desire to hide who she is, whether it be her elven or human heritage, or being a mage. All are true, though that latter seems less relevant, in this moment.