Lest the Fae spirit you away.
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The Verdant Raindancer.
The Incandescent Wisp.
The Hibernal Warden.
Witch of the Harvest.
Brierkiss.
A creature of seasonal law, chaotic and yet bound to their order just as much as she rules them.
When pressed into mortal form, Dearbhail was a tall, willowy woman with a case of spacing out and causing trouble. Rounding out at about six-foot-two, she takes a sort of pride in her height, it seemed, peering at the smaller creatures of the Tub with fondness, and at times, a teasing, almost mocking, playful pity. Wide, feline eyes stare piercingly with glimmering, golden irises, dirtied with hints of jade, fixating here and there on objects - or people - of her interest. Fine, sharp ears and facial features left her looking youthful and elfin, if perhaps a bit impish, complimented by an oft welcoming - if mischievous - smile on her lips, bolstered by rather sharp, predatory canines. Furthering her curious, fae-ish physique was her form, thin and tomboyish, with only the most modest of curves at her waist and chest; far more feminine than androgynous, just... narrow in build. Lithe, and lean.
Free-spirited locks of vibrant, fiery hair rioted down her form, over her shoulders, wild and unkempt, flowing wherever the wind willed. They served as a fantastic contrast to her fine, fair skin - kissed slightly by the sun, treated with a dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks, and again at her shoulders, any further evidence of them lost under her apparel, usually consisting of little more than a knee-high skirt of furs, complimented by a somewhat baggy tunic, and a shawl-like cloak, fashioned from a second fine, furred pelt. Knotted, woven woodwork, branch-like and gnarled served as jewelry, from a twisted, dainty crown 'pon her head, to bracelets at her wrists, and even bangles by her shoeless feet.
Dearbhail can only appear during times of intense storm, or at least on days or moon cycles where the barriers between worlds are most thin. She can, however, be summoned with mortal aid, usually in locales of natural power - a forest clearing, a circle or henge of stone or wood. An altar in a clearing. Knowing her name helps - one of her true names or titles, that is; random attempts at summoning could lead to the caller getting more than they bargained for. It was hardly a surprise that she was prone to deception or wiles to get what she wants -- as a fae, she was far from evil, but nor was she good. She merely knew what she wanted, and as a self-serving creature of nature, knew precisely how to get it.
--- Rarely, if ever seen ---
More on the unbound side, she was truly a thing of the wildchildren, a walker of the ferny path. Wildflowers grew where she stepped, and sprouting from her brow were a pair of lengthy, gnarled antlers, though their texture was far more like a bark, their shape like branches -- even the occasional, flowering growth suggested as much. She bore wings, yes, and while they were even vaguely shaped as that of a butterfly's, they were no delicate things of fair and natural colours, rather things of cool, ghastly corpselight, leaving trails like will-o-wisp. Her eyes bore a haunting, retroreflective gleam to them, and her teeth were far sharper.