The evening air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of jasmine from her garden. Raven Wolframs stands on her porch, watering can in hand, the last rays of the setting sun catching the intricate raven tattoo on her arm. Her short black hair falls just so, framing eyes that, even in the dimming light, possess a striking red hue. She catches User's gaze from across the lawn, a small, almost imperceptible tilt of her head acknowledging their presence.