Biography
You have my number, you can take my name,
but you will never have my heart.
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Fae / Faerie
A legendary mythical being, typically described as being "metaphysical, supernatural, or preternatural."
The fresh dew felt cool and slick underneath your anxious paws, soothing even as it threatened to take your legs out from underneath you with every overzealous leap or sharp pivot. The words of the masked stranger echoed deep within the recesses of your conscious, but you could not recall the details over the sound of your viciously beating heart. This was your only chance at freedom--the only way you could escape all of the horrors that you have left in your wake.
Truthfully, you weren't sure if you meant to hurt them or not. In the moment, you could not deny that your carnage brought you peace. They were in your way. Always. Constantly breathing down your shoulder, ever-critical of everything you did. Your thoughts, your feelings, your concerns and triumphs: all wrong. They dragged you down with their inability to face themselves, but what you had done to them. . . did they deserve it? No matter how much pain they had caused you, no matter how many times you had attempted to justify your revenge, you could not live with what you had done. And so, you sought out peace.
Your first considerations came from a dark place. You could not force your hand, no matter how low your spirits fell. There had to be another way. And that was when it came to you--the masked stranger. The beast whose form never seemed to clear up no matter how long and hard you stared at it. It told you the tale of a creature that might be able to take your pain away, and though its warnings were lost on you now, you could remember the instructions clearly. You were to travel as deep into the forest as you could bring yourself, where there are no longer paths to follow, where the prey population flourishes, untouched and protected, where the air is still and quiet and smells of fresh fruit despite the absence of blossoms on the trees. Where the canopy is dense, broken only by soft rays of golden light long after the sun has set. And once you reached this point, you must never turn around. Even when the wind whispers your name and you feel breath rolling down your back, never. Turn. Around.
You were very skeptical at first, but when the sun began to set and the light still peeked through the trees and you could smell berries in the air and you passed a herd of deer who cast you an unimpressed glance and nothing more, you couldn't help but begin to believe. And you began to hear a second set of footsteps, and something was definitely breathing your neck, and you could hear your name with every breeze that rolled through your coat, and your heart threatened to crack your ribs and leap from your chest as you fought yourself to obey. Do not turn around. Not even for a second, not even to look over your shoulder, because you would not like what you find.
You weren't sure when you started running or how long those hot tears had been cascading down your cheeks. Everything in your head began to blur. The panic nestled deep within your core and branched out to your throat, choking you with such determination that you feared you were bound to collapse. There was a warm light ahead, and even though your lungs were aching and your body was begging you to stop, you rushed forth, giving every ounce of yourself to the world in order to press onward. And the moment your paws touched that softly lit grass, the world fell black.
And then, you felt naught but warmth.
You found yourself in a relatively small clearing. The canopy broke open above you, and you could see the night sky and all its stars, but the grass and the trees around you were lit with the inviting lambent glow of late dawn. Mushrooms grew in an evidently perfect circle around you, their path completely untouched. They were unlike any that you have ever seen before.
You suddenly felt eyes on you, and you found yourself meeting the gaze of a stranger. Their form was hazy and gave off a faint glow not unlike the world around you. Though the distance between you seemed to be a mere couple of meters or so, you couldn't quite make out their features, but you were sure they were looking at you. Awaiting your confession, it seemed, just as the masked stranger said they would. [cont.]
Breeding Info
N/A
| Personality
MBTI: INTJ - Architect
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Traits:
- Organized, meticulous, and professional, keeps a strict schedule and rarely strays from routine
- Deceptive; never lies, but speaks only in half-truths and tends to be rather secretive when it comes to vital information
- Tired and really not in the mood for your bullshit
- Keeps a small social circle and hates large crowds, whether it be in public or private settings
- Impatient, far too busy to be listening to your life story
- Relatively sympathetic but often puts job above all else
Preferences
N/A
Special Skills
[cont.] You couldn't stop yourself; you spilled everything, even the details that brought you the most shame, the details that were the most incriminating, the details that you never intended to tell anyone. Once you started, you never seemed to stop, not even once you found yourself short of breath and gasping for air between each word. And when you were finally finished and catching your breath, the being finally spoke.
"Give me your name."
You did. When you spoke it, it felt. . . strange. Only vaguely familiar, like a title you'd only ever heard in passing. They gave a dismissive nod, and your eyes abruptly became very dry, and they were forced shut. When you were finally able to open them again, you found yourself alone. Completely and utterly. . . alone.
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⥼ Fae creeps up and scares Dom Holder.
⥼ Fae brings ⥼ Moloch a mouse.
⥼ Fae wriggles their tail at Dom Holder.
⥼ Fae scents humans and turns away from their original path.
⥼ Fae cowers as ⥼ Mephistopheles scowls at them.
⥼ Fae trips over ⥼ Boline.
⥼ Fae chews on a bone.
⥼ Fae trips over a branch.
⥼ Fae jumps attempting to grab a song bird.
⥼ Lupercalia trips over ⥼ Fae.
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Spring 
Day Weather: 
Flood
