Kaycee Barrow was staring into a mirror. Well, not a mirror exactly, but a portrait of herself given to her by another in a line of wannabe suitors. Of the portraits, the one she was currently staring at was far and away her favorite; it was the only one that, in her opinion, accentuated the emerald color in her eyes. Such a pity that the artist would forever be just a suitor. Silly repercussions. Back in the Barrowlands, it was required for Kaycee to lull the artists into obsessing over her; but here in this strange urban place, folks tend to get a tad angry when a corpse is discovered. From what she could tell, these people were in no short supply, but better to mingle as they say rather than consume. Even if the painter of this particular portrait was rather pleasant to look at.

Sighing, Kaycee turned to one of the small porcelain sculptures sitting on a desk in her room. The sculpture just so happened to also be of her. The scultptor was considerably harder on the eyes, but the work produced was worth it. Lining the walls and desktops of her room in the manor she now called home were various items all seemingly dedicated to herself, from caricatures to still lifes and everything inbetween. It'd be narcissistic if it wasn't a by-product of who she was. Or what she was, in this instance.

Yet, despite all the pieces of art, there was something sorely lacking. Kaycee couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she felt nothing from looking at replicas of herself, not any longer. Perhaps she needed new ones, new suitors. Or maybe she was growing tired of humans and their easily charmed brains.

A faint sound caused her pointed ears to prickle. A voice. Inside the manor, if her ears were to be trusted. That could prove to be slightly problematic. The gate and the door were locked, unless someone forgot, and a normal human wandering around was bad news. Such an intrusion had to be dealt with. It wasn't all bad, though. With any luck, Kaycee could have yet another devoted suitor to shower her with gifts. 

Leaving her room, Kaycee headed for the stairs leading down to the main foyer. Adorned in a shimmering, flowing, emerald green dress, Kaycee stepped down the stairs, long red hair falling to just above her lower back; the hair was covering her sharp pointed ears. Her eyes saw a young-ish human. Woman. 

"Ye cannae be here, childer," Kaycee spoke, her accent thick and sounding vaguely like a human Irish accent - though her accent was heavy her voice was considerably softer, non threatening, "Yer gonna make a right hames'a things if ye stay. Ye never came here, ye never saw inside, yer gonna go back rightways inta town and continue on with yer life. Understan, childer? Go on, then."

Kaycee descended the stairs, her steps slow and methodical, dress trailing along the ground behind her.