Someone presenting as 'angelic' is..... Moderately unlikely to try to kill her. (Paranoid skittish prey mindset sounded fun when she was designing it.)

All the same, she lets her inner biology churn a bit while she continues to run. Building up fast twitch muscle, adrenaline, subtle armor.

And then, "Hello up there!" into the sky, in Sylvan.

"Hello," booms the angelic figure that has been stalking her for at least several minutes.

"Welcome to the Library of All Knowledge. State your purpose, traveler."

She looks around.

"This doesn't look much like a library to me. I was told the 'singing place' was in this direction, and it sounded interesting."

"You have not yet entered the Library. I am one of its guardians. The Library has been described as a singing place."

Interacting with this person in this brain is terrifying and stressful. She stops running and starts the process of changing.

"-Give me a minute please," She asks, or something approximately idiomatic in Sylvan.

The flying angelic being gives her a moment.

It's a little gross to rush this. The horns stay there the longest even as the rest of her finishes changing over a minute or two, steadily shrinking down and itching a lot. "I assure you, I have no intention of destroying the library you guard. I would like to hear more about it, though."

As soon as her transformation is complete, she notices that the 'angel' has transformed to match. The horns have vanished, and the ears have changed shape, among the most obvious changes.

"The Library of All Knowledge is a joint project supported by my god, The One Who Watches While Music is Alive, Guardian of Singers and Troubadours, the One True Hand of All-Wise Oghma, Lord of Song, The Silver Harp- and his ally and companion, Deneir. It collects the music, scrolls, tomes, and so on that have existed on every Prime world in one place. We welcome well-intentioned visitors."

"God."

That word gives her complicated feelings.

"...Are you changing shape to match me, or is something else going on there?"

"If my shape has changed, it is because yours has changed, and solars always represent those who would request our aid and attention, or whose presence requires it. As you are an unknown quantity, of unknown abilities and intentions, I have been sent to investigate you."

"Well, I am very foreign here. My 'plane' had not so much as heard of Ursis- Or other planes at all. So far my fear of excessive boredom has not come to pass. I suspect my abilities are lesser to yours. I can state my intentions but that does not help if you think me capable of lying."

"I shall land near you, and in doing so, determine whether you speak truth. May I?"

"Whether I mind depends on how exactly you plan to do that, really."

This seems to require some thought.

"I don't know anything about this god I presume you serve, or what your abilities are. Some ways of verifying I'm not lying, I would object to. Such as reading my mind."

"We will not- I will not 'read you mind'. I will stand next to you and know which things you say are lies and which are truths. That is all."

"I don't object to that, though if I find out you've done something more invasive later I will be quite annoyed."

"Of course! I would never make a promise I did not intend to keep! May I stand next to you now? You may wish to close your eyes if the light is too bright."

The angelic being continues to fly, flapping their wings and circling her.

"I can handle bright light. And very well."

"Say one lie, and then only speak the truth."

They land, standing several yards from her.

"Please, speak your intentions."

"This statement is false." Her lips curl up into a smile. "More seriously, ah... My hair is black." Lie. "I am curious about this land, and all the more curious after meeting you and hearing the truth of the library of all knowledge. I have no intentions of violence unless violence is first threatened upon me, or if agreed to such as in a spar. I don't expect that to change though my other personalities may be more liable to see things as threats." Truth.

When she's finished speaking, they nod and smile in turn; it is a brilliant smile, with perfect teeth and the right size, with eyes glimmering with mirth and friendliness. There is no hint of strain, tiredness, unhappiness, or anything else that might mar a smile.

"Thank you for your candor. You may pass. I will no longer follow you, although once in the Library itself, you may be observed. We cannot offer complete privacy, as other recipients of the Library as well as its staff will also be present, and of course you cannot be allowed to remove any materials without properly checking them out. Goodbye?"

"Is there," she asks, "A librarian?"

"Only The One Who Watches While Music is Alive, Guardian of Singers and Troubadours, the One True Hand of All-Wise Oghma, Lord of Song, The Silver Harp- and of course, Deneir."

"How does one seek librarianly assistance? Does the Lord of Song have a body? Does Deneir?"