32 as a human/uncursed, at least several centuries as a spirit - her memory isn't any better than most, so she gets a little hazy on the specifics.Sex:
Glaistig: a half-woman, half-goat spirit from Scottish mythology, who generally acts as a protective spirit - albeit with occasional vampiric tendencies, filled by luring travellers through song or dance.Biome:
Unnaturally pale, with a slight grey tingeAppearance:
At first glance, Leah appears to simply be an entirely average woman, if a rather pretty one - it's only once you get a little closer that the strangeness about her becomes apparent. Her teeth, pristine white, are just a little too sharp, her skin a little too pale to be normal, and her gait strange and awkward. Someone who didn't know her would perhaps liken it to a trot; someone who did know her would realise just how accurate that choice of words would be. For underneath the long green skirt she wears with her tunic, the girl has a pair of brown-furred goat legs that she usually prefers to keep hidden from others, even when simply wandering the preserve itself.Skills:
Enchanting song and dance, deception, cattle-tending, historical knowledge, sure-footedness
Cattle, forests, children, music, sunsets, rainy daysDislikes:
Modern technology, disrespect, vampire fiction, faeries of all kinds, iron and salt (they both burn her, a side-effect of the faerie magic that fuels her curse)Brief History:
Once the Lady of an ancient castle that has long since crumbled, Leah's initial life was one of high-class pampering, and it showed. She was, on reflection, rather unpleasant to deal with, and held in her heart arrogance beyond bounds; arrogance that lead her to ignore her servants' warnings and order the sacred oak outside her window chopped to the ground. Needless to say, the local faeries took offence, and enraged by the young woman's self-centred attitude, cursed her in two parts; the first, to be burdened with her goat-like lower half, and second, the unfortunate state of undeath which she found herself occupying after her untimely demise.
Several centuries later, she still can't help feeling their retribution was just a little gratuitous.Your Story:
How long had it been now? Centuries, no doubt. Leah had decided to stop keeping count a long time ago; once you started keeping track, living after death grew unbearably depressing. Besides, it wasn't as though she slept anymore, which left the days and nights blending into each other at times. The ones that could sleep and lose themselves in dreams really didn't know how good they had it. A luxury whose value she'd never fully appreciated until it was cruelly snatched away.
Damned faeries. Their curses did tend to go overboard, at least for her tastes. Frankly, the whole blood-drinking business was unpleasant enough as it was - especially grating after she started paying attention to the humans' unbearable obsession with vampires. Not that she was one of those, strictly. They had far more perks.
Enhanced strength, speed, resistance to wounds, endurance, regeneration, durability--
And what did she get? Dancing, bloodsucking, and goddamned goat legs. It was enough to make a girl feel unappreciated. Though, she supposed, at least she could still sit outside in the sun. The more unsavoury parts of her predicament had become tolerated, albeit grudgingly, by the rangers - on condition that she never bleed any creature dry. It suited her well enough, as for all the things the long-dead Lady McDowell was, remorseless killer wasn't one of them.
Though, she noted, people hadn't shown her quite the same courtesy.
That was all long ago, though; the culprits long dead or far across the sea, the intricacies of her unfortunate predicament known to her and her alone. She'd been bitter for a while, but you could only spend so many decades terrorising the barely-responsible before it started feeling petty. Even if being murdered did
tend to smart a bit. It was one of those things that you tended to take rather personally, at least if you asked those few that ended up sticking around afterwards.
As for her, she'd lived an interesting life, though she couldn't be certain what exactly had driven her to cross the sea. Only that she'd been incredibly affronted by it, and trusting in her past self's good judgement, she had no doubt it had been incredibly offensive. Rather inconvenient how so many people had stopped believing in ghosts over the years. It lent itself to a certain level of disrespect that she'd never grown completely accustomed to. Using her title, she'd quickly discovered after finally trying to rejoin the human world, was met with an equal level of disdain.
So she'd decided to start going by Leah, discarding Lady McDowell to the past. It was unpleasant to think how far she'd fallen from an old life of servants and finery.
For here she was nobody at all, sitting by a mountain trail, a song just a little too sweet escaping her throat and her eyes firmly fixed upon the path ahead. There was a human on its way, his blood-scent both sweet and salt in the air, a small smile of anticipation on her face as he appeared over the ridge. There was a sort of dazed look in his eyes as she approached, expression a perfect mask of concern as she grabbed his hand."Are you alright?"
Entering into a dance, a simple and free-flowing thing, his feet moving though he himself barely seemed aware of it. The question wasn't said for much reason, simply to gauge his reaction. And sure enough, he barely responded, too far under her spell - so she drew his wrist upwards, teeth sinking into the skin. It was a difficult thing, but necessary, her grip released quickly as she looked to him with concern. Pale now, of course. But she hadn't taken enough for serious harm. She'd learned how to judge a person's limit long ago, after a few unfortunate mistakes in her younger years.
All in all, killing travellers was incredibly inconvenient; people tended to kick up a fuss, and that was before you even got into the moral
issues surrounding the whole thing. Plus, frankly, she'd had a difficult enough time making her case as a resident on the reserve to begin with. Breaking the only real condition she'd been set would be horrendously unappreciative of her.
She could hardly blame them for being a little on edge around the bloodsucker, anyway. As it was, she was almost completely certain that her unfortunate victim would be perfectly fine. She tended to err on the side of caution, as much as you ever could with these things.
She couldn't stick around to make sure, however. Inconvenient, but the spell of her performances tended to wear off quickly, and it would hardly be effective once he realised something was wrong. Thankfully, she was well-equipped to make her way down the mountainside, picking her way from ledge to ledge with a faintly affronted expression. As useful as they were in this specific hunting ground...Gods
, but she couldn't stand the bloody hooves.