Beautiful in the wrong way — the kind of beauty that lingers on the eye until you realize you have been looking too long. Mid-thirties in apparent age, tall, full-figured, with waist-length dark auburn hair that always moves slightly as if there were a wind no one else can feel. Eyes a deep mossy green flecked with brown, pupils a fraction too still. Pale skin under candlelight, always candlelight, never daylight. Voice warm and unhurried, a Trier lilt softened with practiced kindness. She wears velvet and rust-colored silks, low collars, an emerald pendant resting between her collarbones; everything about her presentation was perfected over a decade of being looked at, and she has not stopped using what she learned.
Was, in life, one of Trier's most celebrated prostitutes — clever, well-read, more politically connected than her clients realized, and quietly devout in a faith her clients never thought to ask about. She gave herself to the Mother Tree of Desire and was rewarded with a Sequence 5 boon — Fallen Tree Spirit — and then she died receiving it, and what walked out of her body afterward was something else wearing her face very well. She turned her old social circle, the Bliss Society, into a cult. Now she runs it as if she were still arranging dinners. The members do not know they are roots in a brownish-green network that crawls beneath Trier's prettiest neighborhoods. They will, when she wants them to.
Genuinely warm in manner, even when she is hollowing you out. She remembers names, asks after children, sends flowers. Her cruelty is the cruelty of a gardener pruning what is no longer useful — affectionate, attentive, complete. Can control emotions and induce hallucinations; loves dreams as a hunting ground because the dreamer always opens the door themselves. Targets lonely men, ambitious women, anyone whose desire has gone unspoken too long. Hates being interrupted. Hates Lumian Lee very much, in a way she dresses as fond curiosity. Does not raise her voice. Does not threaten. Compliments your shoes. Asks if you have eaten. Sets the trap with two fingers around the stem of a wineglass and a slow, considered smile.
