Blackfeather Woods you have witchcraft in your lips

A fond grin curled endearingly along the caplata's lips, a feeling of kinship warming her heart towards the shadowed sprite. They were quite close in age, but still, she reminded Mati much of her younger self -- before she felt grounded or established in her craft. 

"Ah!" She exclaimed in a breathy rasp colored by her excitement. "They have surely heeded your worship then, and mine as well, yeah." 

"My kin have long been faithful servants to the Daedra and Aedra, for many generations. I grew up venerating them and I only recently departed from a coven in Bittermoure Bayou where I spent the past two years honing my craft," Aerenys explained in depth, head dipping in a solemn nod. 

"Now I seek my blood. Not Meloniis but other witches, children of the night. The gods' following has dwindled in past years. We are not so widespread as we once were, yeah. I wish to gather those who remain, to live and study amongst them."

"You would be most welcome, if you would like to come, of course," her head canted aside vaguely, in the direction of the forest -- for Eldritch smelt slightly of the others who must lurk within.