Circe

From a narrow crevasse, steam billows in a long hiss. It continues on, enhanced and echoing far beyond its natural aural range, for what seems like an age. Finally, it dies out with a serpentine rattle.
"S-s-sorry about that," a low voice calls, followed by a hacking cough. "The reagents-s-s didn't react as expected."
There's a scrabbling sound, some quiet curses, and then a relatively small coatl squeezes through the thin slit in the cave wall. Her brilliant blue feathers are all akimbo for a moment, and then the gentle drift of the current settles them back to their usual magnificent selves. She evaluates you with eyes narrowed from chemical exposure rather than suspicion, and then flicks out her tongue once in a gesture of approval.
"Were you lookfin for me? My name is-s-s Cir-c-c-ce, a-s-s-s I'm s-sure you mus-s-st know alreadsea. This cave is-s-sn't exactly eas-s-sy to find. I'm the res-s-s-ident alchemis-s-st. So watch what you s-s-ay around me, frond." She laughs, a literal bubble of sound. Her head tilts to one side, and she raises a claw in invitation. "S-so, shall we get s-s-started?"