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You arch an eyebrow at the elven woman and ask, "Does it look like I've anything so shameful that it ought be hidden away?"
"Ah, you're a pervert then," the elven woman replies.
"A <span class="mu-i">Princess</span>, thank you," you blithely inform her. "Princess Roxanne Juliette la Étoilée de la Fleur, First Princess of the Flower Kingdom, Grand Duchess of the Pavot March, and Princess of Rosebridge, to be precise. Flogged through the streets and thrown into this labyrinth in the vain hope that I would die a wretched and horrible death. At least, that's what the Boar Emperor wished me after he had his knights rip up my favorite gown and unseal the labyrinth's portal."
It's the elven woman's turn to arch an eyebrow at you, as she stands up and dusts off her shift. "You don't seem all that torn up about it."
"I find the air more comfortable upon my skin that the coarse fabrics of a ballgown," you admit. Your heightened senses can be a curse sometimes, as only the finest weaves of silk that flow more like water than a fabric do not grate your skin like sandpaper. You can feel every stitch, every weave, every knit as though fine cotton were the coarsest of linens. "Besides, I have spent over twenty five years sculpting my body into a work of art. It would be cruel to deny the common folk a glimpse of passing perfection, so why would I shroud it for the sake of fleeting modesty?"
"You are most generous, Princess Pervert," the elven woman stretches herself out, standing up to the tips of her toes and reaching her arms out to the heavens. Once she hears a satisfying pop to her joints, she bends down low to touch her toes. "I'll be sure to ogle you only as much as polite."
"Very good then," you say with a nod. Looking towards the glowing, giant tree, you ask, "What should I call you?"
"Astaroth of 4977," she replies. "Astra for short."
"You may call me Roxy then," you extend her the courtesy...
...and she throws it right back at you, "Nah, I'll keep calling you Pervert until you put some damned clothes on."
You blink. Most people tend to bend over backwards the moment they learn of your title and status. Rudeness without hostility is positively novel. "You'll be calling me pervert for quite some time, then."
"Good on you, Roxy-perv," she says, calling you something that would probably make more sense in Elvish. "If you're gonna stand for something, running around starker's ain't the worst thing, for sure. So what's the plan? Between the goblin drugs and you prana pumping my soul's g-spot, my memories are scattered all over the place. I don't rightly remember what I was doing down here."
<span class="mu-s">What's the plan?</span>
>Continue on to the giant tree.
>Look for a way out of this room.
>See if she wants some revenge against the goblins.
>Spend some time hunting monsters and gathering materials.
>Finding or creating a base of operations to work out of.
