Well, should they open their eyes, Phalanx won't have to worry about much sensory input from the outside world. The interior is sparse, and the table at the back of the tent is a simple, rectangular piece of furniture with nothing on it but a small black tablecloth and a deck of cards.

The woman sitting behind the table is small and unimposing, wearing boring clothing and no jewelry to speak of. She has long, straight grey hair that she has partly put up into a bun, and partly left to fall this-and-that-way over her face--which she may not mind, on account of her eyes being completely concealed by white wrappings. Whether by fate or by design, she is completely blind.

The only light into the room is what seeps in around the edges of the tent that have been pitched directly into the stalagmite behind her--which have the strange effect of ringing her little desk in a pale, glowing frame.

"Running from trouble, Robin?" she asks, sounding unimpressed.